Crush: An Everyday Heroes Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Kelsie Rae

  “I said, hurry up,” he bosses me through the shower curtain. I can hear the smile in his voice. He acts like he didn’t just give me an up-close and personal shot of his package before ripping it away like a heartless bastard.

  “Who says I’m not hurrying?” I challenge.

  “You haven’t moved a muscle since I just gave you a little sneak peek of my junk.”

  I snort. “Cocky much?”

  “You tell me. Did I look very cock-y to you?”

  Rolling my eyes, I try to contain my grin, but it’s no use. “I’m going to go get dressed.”

  “You sure you don’t want to watch me rub soap all over my body? Give you a longer show?” he calls out as I walk out of the bathroom. By some miracle, I maintain a small semblance of self-control and keep moving forward even though a little voice inside of me is begging me to turn around and finally give in to the sexual tension we’ve both been drowning in.

  And if I weren’t a coward, I would.

  “So, did I win, or did I win?” Ben asks as we sit on the top of a mountain peak.

  Snapping another picture of the bright red and gold leaves surrounding us, I answer, “You definitely won. Where did you even come up with this idea?”

  “Well, call it a hunch, but I had a feeling you were into hiking. You’re pregnant, though, which means you shouldn’t be doing any activities that will stress your body out. And even an overly bumpy ATV ride with the change in elevation can cause issues, so I figured the gondola sky ride was a good bet.”

  “You kind of nailed it,” I admit as I sneak another picture of Ben. He’s sitting on the ground, resting his elbow on his bent knee as he takes in the gorgeous ambiance surrounding us. The light breeze. The orange and yellow leaves with pops of red and green. The expanse below us. All of it is so picturesque, I’m positive I won’t even need to use Photoshop to frame these images. They’re perfect just the way they are.

  He sighs in contentment before rummaging through his worn, black backpack. After pulling out a water bottle, he tosses me an unopened bottle of cranberry juice.

  My amusement rivals my confusion as I lift the cranberry juice and inspect it. “I know I mentioned I like cranberry juice, but how did you––”

  “Your Zion National Park pictures.”

  I cock my head to the side. “What?”

  “There were a few pictures in the slideshow of you drinking cranberry juice, which by the way, is a very unconventional drink on a hike. Just sayin’. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the right brand in the vending machine at the hotel, but I was kind of hoping you’d cut me a little slack this time.”

  Still shocked by his thoughtfulness, I lower my camera and state the obvious. “You brought me cranberry juice.”

  He shrugs. “I brought you cranberry juice.”

  “On a hike.”

  “Yeah. On a frickin’ hike.”

  “Even though it’s weird,” I reiterate.

  “Damn right, it’s weird.” He laughs, shaking me from my surprise. “But yeah. I did.”

  Licking my lips, I lean into him and press a soft kiss to his arrogant grin even though I know it won’t do my gratitude any justice.

  He tastes like sunshine and warmth and…home.

  “Does that mean I did good?” he teases when I pull away.

  “I already told you that you kinda nailed it.”

  “Yeah, but that was before the cranberry juice, which was kinda the cherry on top. So….” He winks. “How’d I do?”

  A lump the size of a ping-pong ball gets caught in my throat, but I shove it down and soak up the moment the same way I’ve been soaking up the last of the autumn sunshine.

  “You nailed it, Ben,” I whisper. My heart tightens in my chest. It’s a good pain, though. A scary one. But as long as my heart doesn’t end up breaking by the end of this, I’ll gladly live with the sharp reminder because I’ve never cared about someone the way I’m starting to care about the man in front of me. And it’s moments like this when I wonder if he might care about me in the same way. At the same level.

  Because this? What I feel for him? It could very well consume me.

  And I’d let it. As long as I knew I wasn’t alone.

  “Damn right, I nailed it,” he jokes with that same cocky smirk before reaching for my heavy, black camera in my hands. “Now, tell me how I use this thing. I need to snap a few of you up here.”

  “Maybe next time,” I hedge.

  “No deal, Marce. I want to remember today. You. Me. Up here. Please?”

  Damn heart. Hold it together, woman!

  I clear my throat, adjust the settings on my DSLR, then show him which button to press. He takes at least a dozen pictures before an idea hits me.

  Raising my forefinger at him, I say, “Just a sec.”

  There are a few picnic tables at the top of the peak, and I head toward the closest one before rummaging through my travel bag for my wireless remote control that allows me to take pictures without being behind the camera. When I find it, I wiggle it back and forth at Ben.

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “You’ll see. Go stand by that rock near the ledge.” I point in its direction and can feel Ben watching me curiously as he follows my orders and stands with his hands in his pockets. After a few more minor adjustments on my camera, I set it on the top of the picnic table frame Ben in the shot before swaying toward him.

  Well. Swaying might be a bit of a stretch. Let’s be real. It’s more of a waddle, but I don’t let it get to me as Ben pulls me into his chest as soon as I’m within arm’s reach.

  “You’re hot when you get your photographer look,” he tells me.

  “Photographer look?”

  “Yeah. Your face scrunches up in concentration, and your eyes kind of crinkle in the corners as you set up the shot.” He rubs his thumb against my cheekbone before running it up against my temple. “Then you get this sexy little smirk of confidence like you already know how well the pictures are going to turn out before you’ve even taken them. Like I said. Hot. Although this cute little blush you’ve got going on is pretty adorable too. And don’t get me started on these damn freckles.” I can feel his eyes bouncing around my face, taking in every single inch of me until I’m a puddle on the cliff.

  “I hated my freckles when I was younger,” I admit, my gaze dropping down to our shoes. With his finger under my chin, he tilts my head up and captures my attention.

  “Don’t. Ever. Hate these things, Marce. They just might be my most favorite trait in the world.”

  His spine curves as he closes the distance between us and peppers kisses along the bridge of my nose, making sure to give each and every tiny fleck of brown on my skin his full attention.

  Clicking the button, I soak up his affection like a dry sponge before standing on my tiptoes and connecting his lips with mine. A sigh escapes me as he snakes his arms around my lower back and dips me until my hair is touching the ground, and one foot has popped into the sky.

  I snap another picture before my laugh breaks off the kiss, and he helps me catch my balance, which is no easy feat since my stomach is huge right now.

  We spend hours up on that peak. Snapping pictures. Laughing. Smiling. Talking. And soaking up the sunshine as well as each other.

  And I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.

  24

  Marcy

  Me: Hey!

  Dylan: Hey! I was meaning to text you! Great minds think alike. ;) Any chance you could babysit Sadie the Friday after you get home? Poppy and Betsy want to take everyone out for an adults-only dinner, and even though she offered to pay for a babysitter to wrangle all the monsters at her place, I’m afraid Sadie might get trampled over there with so many kids, so I wanted to reach out and see if you’d be okay with it. Not a big deal if you can’t, though.

  Dylan: Just thought I’d throw it out there.

  Her rambling is almost enough to make me forget about my own problems.

  Well, no
t that I’m having problems per se, more like the opposite. Still….

  Reigning in my self-doubt, I hastily respond.

  Me: Of course. Happy to help.

  Dylan: Perfect. Thank you, Marce. You’re seriously a lifesaver! How’s your trip going?

  Now that’s the question, isn’t it?

  Chewing on my lower lip, I reply with the only response I can.

  Me: He bought me cranberry juice.

  Dylan: ??? Okay…is that a bad thing? Or a good thing? Personally, I’m more of an orange juice girl.

  I laugh while sneaking another peek at the open bathroom door.

  After our hike, where I didn’t take more than three hundred steps, we came back to the hotel to get ready for our dinner with Anthony and Sway. But my mind has been running a million miles per hour, and I needed to let it out, so I texted Dylan. I need her to tell me that I'm not crazy for falling in love with Ben. That it’s going to be okay. That I can trust him. That he won’t hurt me again.

  Nibbling on my lower lip, I type out the truth.

  Me: It’s a good thing. A scary thing. But a good thing. I think? Man, I don’t even know.

  Dylan: Back up, girl. What’s the big deal about cranberry juice?

  Me: It means he’s able to differentiate between his wife and me. That might sound dumb that I need those little pieces of evidence, but I’m not her, ya know? And does he know that? Is he OKAY with that?

  Dylan: Marcy, you have to forgive him. He screwed up, but he’s human. And he’s been trying like hell to earn back your trust. You need to let him in.

  Me: That sounds terrifying.

  Dylan: It is, but it’s absolutely worth it. Trust me. I’ve been there. Let me ask you this. Do you love him?

  My entire body shakes like a leaf as I ask myself that same question.

  Do I love him?

  My phone vibrates again, and I look down to read it.

  Dylan: You’re not Kate. And that’s okay. Just be YOU. But in order for him to fall in love with YOU, you need to let him SEE the real you.

  Me: I have been.

  Dylan: Have you?

  I take a second to analyze the last few weeks that we’ve been together. My guard has been up. Maybe not sky high, but it’s definitely still there in some way. Yet, despite my best efforts to protect myself, he’s still managed to slip past my defenses.

  She’s right. He’s been proving he’s all in, but I’ve been holding back, and it’s been torturing us both. Coming to a hard conclusion to swallow, I type out my reply.

  Me: I’ve been trying.

  Dylan: Then, that’s the best you can do. He’s a good guy, Marcy. And it sounds to me like your heart is already on the line, despite your best efforts to protect yourself. Give him a chance. A REAL chance, so he can prove to you that he wants YOU. That he sees YOU. Because you’re kind of a badass. I can attest to that.

  “What’s so funny?” Ben asks, making me jump in surprise.

  Clutching my phone to my chest, I screech, “Shit! You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he laughs, not sounding apologetic in the least. “Who are you texting?”

  “Dylan.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good.”

  “Did she want to know my wooing techniques? Maybe pass a few onto Grady to spice up their love life?”

  Snorting, I set my phone down on the bathroom counter and finish brushing my damp hair from the shower. “I think Grady’s just fine on the wooing front without taking any lessons from your book. That’s very generous of you to offer, though.”

  “Who said I was offering? The guy’s a firefighter. He could look like a brick wall and would still get any girl he wanted if Dylan weren’t in the picture,” he jokes. “Good thing he met his match with her, though.”

  “Right? They’re my favorite couple ever. Well, one of them. Sway and Anthony are pretty dang sweet together too.”

  “That they are. Which reminds me. When are they picking us up?”

  I shrug. “Thirty minutes or so?”

  “That should be enough time.”

  “For what?”

  He bounces his brows up and down, then lunges toward me, picking me up with one arm behind my knees and the other cradling my back before carrying me over to the bed.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. My nerves and emotions are already a frazzled mess after our day together. I’m not sure I can handle any more attention from him without finally admitting the truth to him.

  And I’m not ready to take that leap.

  Not yet.

  “I know you’re not ready for sex,” he murmurs. “But I’ve been dying to taste you again, and thirty minutes should be enough time for me to devour you. Now, sit back and enjoy the ride, Marcy. I’m starving.”

  Grabbing the hem of my maroon colored maxi-dress, he dives beneath and gets right to work. My laugh turns into moans in an instant, and my damp hair dries into a rat’s nest, but I don’t care because I’m too busy being worshipped by a doctor who knows exactly what he’s doing.

  As I orgasm a few minutes later, I realize I’m not just falling. I’m already there.

  I love the hell out of this man.

  But do I trust him?

  25

  Marcy

  “Well, you two are adorable together,” Sway points out as Ben swaggers outside to chat with Anthony. Their home is absolutely gorgeous and quirky, and so them. With bright, mismatched furniture, polka dot pillows, and gold accents, the place screams happy hippy with a side of can I move in, please?

  An ugly orange cat brushes against my leg. Squatting down, I scratch between his ears and answer, “That’s funny. Ben and I were discussing earlier how adorable we think you and Anthony are too.”

  She waves me off. “We’re very adorable. And very happy. And very old news.”

  “Debatable.”

  “No, it’s not.” She chuckles. “We’re very old news compared to you and Ben. But regardless, I wanted to let you know that I’m happy for you.” Her sincerity makes me pause. “I remember our caseworker talking to us about working with a single woman as our surrogate. She expressed her reservations, and I was a little hesitant too. I know that in the initial questionnaire to become a surrogate, you had to say that you weren’t planning on having any kids of your own.”

  Man, that feels like forever ago. My eyes go hazy as I remember filling out the questionnaire online. “Yeah. It’s for safety purposes,” I divulge, recounting the memory. “There’s a slim chance that something could go wrong, and I could lose the ability to have any more kids. So, if I wanted to become a surrogate, I needed to basically waive my opportunity for future children.”

  “I know. At first, I thought, who could be that generous, yet that selfish at the same time? Giving up your body for someone else but not willing to have kids of your own? The only conclusion I could come up with was that you were renting out your womb to make a quick buck, and I wasn’t sure I wanted my unborn baby in an environment like that. It sounds weird, right? But that’s how I felt. Still, Anthony and I wanted to proceed with the introduction. I hadn’t met you yet,” she clarifies with a soft smile. “But as soon as I did, I noticed how you would watch Anthony and me interact. And that’s when I finally pieced it together. You weren’t selfish. You’d simply given up on having your own family and your own dreams.”

  I open my mouth to argue but close it just as quickly because the truth is…she’s not wrong.

  Placing her hand on top of mine, Sway continues. “True love wasn’t new to you, but it was still a foreign concept. Like you knew true love was real, but you’d written it off for yourself. You had to have written it off if you were willing to give up the possibility of having your own kids when it was obvious that you wanted some. You weren’t selfish. You’d just…given up. And that’s when I realized how similar you and I are. When I found out I couldn’t have kids, I completely wrote off the possibility of getting married or having a family of my own. Who
would want to marry someone broken like me? The idea that true love and a family could be within reach was foreign to me too. In fact, as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t just foreign. It was impossible. And then Anthony showed up on my doorstep and changed everything for me. When I saw the way Ben looked at you during that first appointment…I saw the spark. I saw the possibility. Anyway…I’m just happy for you. In a sense, you’re the underdog when it comes to love. Just like how I’m the underdog when it comes to having my own child.” She squeezes her eyes closed for a second to steady herself before wiping the corner of her eye. “Gah. Sorry. It’s still so surreal that I’m going to be a…mom? How is that even possible, ya know?”

  “You’re going to be the best mom, Sway.”

  “I’m terrified,” she admits with a pathetic laugh. “I’m terrified to decorate the nursery. I’m terrified to tell people her name. I’m terrified to even say her name because that might make her real. And if she’s real, then she can be taken from me.” Her voice cracks. “And that’s what terrifies me most. Being vulnerable can be hard. But it was worth it with Anthony, so I’m praying it’ll be worth it with Little Miss too.”

  She’s right. We’re more similar than I ever realized. Because I’m terrified too. Of admitting that I’m in love with Ben. Of not being enough. Of disappointing him. Of losing him. All of it.