by Box Set
“You minx. You wanted to unwind? I’ll unwind you.” He tore after her as she ran around the great room screaming.
Chapter 41
~ Brittney ~
I don’t think Ben knows it, but I was watching him run on the rocky beach below. He had his shirt off, and every stride he took was forceful and strong, like that of a gladiator going to battle. I’d hate to face him on the football field, but the thought of tumbling with him in bed has me drooling and drenched between my legs.
Too bad he pulled on a shirt as soon as he climbed up the trail to the cabin. When he spied me, he came straight over, looking concerned. I’m not an aggressive woman, or I would have removed his shirt and wrestled him onto the wooden slats of the back porch. I think about these things, but honestly, spraying him with the shot of cold water is about the boldest thing I did.
I run off screaming in mock fear. I know he’s not upset as he chases me around the coffee table, growling to make me scream more. He’s not charging at his full speed, and he’s definitely not going to hurt me.
I skip to the bedroom and turn to slam the door in his face. What I really want is for him to tackle me and shove me onto his bed.
“You can’t catch me.” I taunt, hoping he’d take the bait.
“Really bright. You trapped yourself.” He pounces through the door, as I back onto the bed.
“I believe your pants are wet. Take them off.” Ooph. That’s so suggestive. And I’m inviting, so please, jump me already.
“Not until I make your pants soaking wet.” He crouches on the bed, but doesn’t make a move to smother me.
Damn, but I want that big body over me.
“All talk and no action,” I tease, and when he lowers himself to my side, I blurt, “I have a three-date rule.”
“So do I.” He wraps a tendril of my hair around his finger. “Did last night count?”
“I was asleep.”
“Right. What about the night in the parking garage?”
“We were trapped because your truck wouldn’t start.”
“Okay, then, the ride to the station in the back of a police car?” His eyebrows rise in a comical expression.
“Close, but no cigar. We were being arrested together.”
“Then the lap dance at the tree farm?”
“Wardrobe malfunction.”
He lies back on the bed, making it sag with his large frame and laughs. “Then we’d better get started with the dates.”
Pulling me on top of him, he wraps his large hand around my head and kisses me good and heavy. I melt into his hot embrace, and climb onto him, pressing my breasts against his hard chest and squirming with excitement. I can’t wait to suck on his strong, corded neck, to lick the salt off his chest, to squeeze and touch and handle him. So big and powerful, but tame and under my control.
The way his tongue explores my mouth sends sparks to my clit. And I could just die on his slabs of muscle and hot rod boner. Opening my legs, I straddle him and rub my swollen spot against his rock hard cock. Oh, yeah. The sensations zing through my body, infusing me with a glow of pleasure and anticipation.
The promised land is within reach, and my entire body’s trembling with want. I roll my nipples against his chest, inviting him to touch, but one hand remains frustratingly on my head, and the other one is flat on the mattress.
Why isn’t he grabbing?
I take his giant paw, the one on the bed, and move it to my thigh. Detaching myself from the kiss, I whisper, “You’re allowed second base.”
He jerks his hand from my grasp and grins, shaking his head. “Not until after the first date.”
With that, he lifts me away from the raging erection tenting his sweatpants and places me on the bed in a sitting position. “Gotta finish myself off in the shower.”
What did he just say? My mouth gapes as he hops off the bed, strutting so I get a full view of his profile, and enters the bathroom. The door shuts and I hear the water turn on.
So unfair. While he’s pleasuring himself in there, I’m stuck here with my panties soaked and no relief. There’s no way I’ll be caught dead with my fingers between my legs. If I were bolder and sexier, I’d step in after him. Oh, I’d give him an eyeful and push my breasts up as an offering to a god.
But then, I did offer him second base and he turned me down. Maybe he’s a bigger tease than me. Or maybe he truly wants to stay friends. He couldn’t possibly think I’d accuse him of sexual harassment, could he?
I turn my attention to the shopping bags he brought back last night. More sweats, a couple of tank tops and T-shirts, a Goldrusher hoodie, but no panties, no bra, and no makeup.
Is he joking? I can’t go out on a date like this. Thank goodness for the hoodie.
Chapter 42
~ Ben ~
Ben washed quickly under the cold water. He grinned to himself at the sudden change in Brittney’s expression from dazed and drunk with lust to shocked and outraged. She was the one who’d brought up the three-date rule, and in any case, it was a good escape. Usually women told him what they wanted, and he’d negotiate until he got what he wanted. But then, he’d never been interested in dating any one of them or seeing them again for repeat performances.
Mother wouldn’t be proud though. Even though he’d kept his promise to her—to save himself for a special woman, he hadn’t done it with a pure heart. From the looks of it, he was the only one who’d obeyed. Nash broke hearts from east to west, and Damon kept the hometown girls hopping in and out of the hayloft. As for his eldest brother, Braden, he’d left home right after their mother’s funeral, and if Damon and Nash were right, he wasn’t a saint either.
Which meant Ben hadn’t a clue about chasing or wooing a woman—someone who wasn’t up for a casual hookup or played games with lipstick around his dick.
Ben soaped himself. The cold water cleared some of the fog from his brain, but any warning bells jingling between his ears were overpowered by the funny, squishy feeling he got in his chest whenever Brittney was in the vicinity. Instead of running away or wondering if he was in too deep, all he wanted to do was protect and cuddle, forget the entire world and focus only on knowing that fascinating creature he’d brought to the cabin with him. He couldn’t wait for the three dates and her reaction after each one.
Ben shut off the water and toweled himself dry, then wrapped the towel low over his hips. He’d given Brittney ample opportunity to take matters into her own hands, but if she could pass up a low-slung towel, she was a stronger woman than any he’d ever met.
As for wanting to get to second base, hell yeah. He’d been dying to touch and fondle those babies ever since he first laid eyes on them, but it had become a point of contention, and oh boy, he was going to resist until it killed him.
Nuh uh. Not touching. Not a lick, not a suck, and definitely no running his cock between them. He slapped his forehead and stared at his image in the mirror. What was he trying to prove? That he wasn’t a breast man?
If he ever got his tongue over her gazoongas, he’d be done for—doomed and chained to her for the rest of her life. His cock nodded. Sounded good, didn’t it? Then why was he resisting?
Was it Mom’s promise? Or something else? A slice of fear bit the back of his throat as he remembered the funeral. One large white coffin covered with flowers—inside it, his mother and infant sister.
Tears made his eyes ache, and Ben hurriedly splashed water over his face to hide them.
He exited the bathroom, determined to tease Brittney with the towel wrapped low around his waist, but she wasn’t in the bedroom. He opened the closet, half-expecting her to jump out, but there was nothing hanging in there but Grandpa and Grandma’s collection of Christmas costumes and boxes of decorations.
He blinked, remembering the festive atmosphere of the cabin, its every surface magical with garlands and wreathes, mistletoe hung strategically over every doorway, lights and candles, the scent of a fresh tree and sweet sugar cookies with sprinkles.
His mother had fit right in, baking, cooking, and making crafts. Christmas was a wondrous time, full of love and magic, wishes and desires, until that year Colleen was born on Christmas Eve.
Ben closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the room was as it stood—drab, dusty, unchanged, and empty.
He wandered to the kitchen, seeking company, seeking her—Brittney, the woman who’d fill the empty spaces, and found her humming “Joy to the World” and washing the dishes. Her blond hair was highlighted by the sunshine coming in through the window, and her voice rang merrily, filling the empty house with a woman’s charm.
Dear God in Heaven, he whispered to himself. She’d fit in so well with my mom and sister.
As Brittney turned to smile at him, Ben felt rather than heard a flutter of wings—angels or Mom?
He was in way too deep, and somehow, he didn’t mind one bit. This was one dream he never wanted to wake from.
Chapter 43
~ Brittney ~
“I’m ready for the first date.” I dry my hands and run my eyes up and down that sexy man standing outside the kitchen. He looks like he saw a ghost, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide open.
He has a towel hung around his waist, and ridges and ridges of muscles etched over his torso, but he seems shocked that I’m washing the dishes. If he isn’t coming on to me, then why the towel?
I’m kind of confused. He’s the one who put a stop to the messing around, and then he teases me about jerking off in the shower. I zero in on his crotch area and he whips around, retreating to the bedroom.
Did he go shy on me all of a sudden? Or is it my pale skin without a hint of makeup? Maybe I should call Lacy for a makeup run. She’d be here in zero seconds flat with her kit and do me up.
Wearing sweats and a large jersey isn’t exactly sexy, and when I looked in the closet earlier this morning, it was full of granny clothes and Christmas costumes. I could pull on the jeans I had on yesterday and call it good, but I’d have to go commando thanks to my panties hanging out to dry in the laundry room.
A few minutes later, Ben returns dressed in tight jeans, boots, and a stretchy black T-shirt. His demeanor is back to his usual cocky self and he practically preens as he rubs his hands and comes toward me. I almost drop the dish I’m drying. I’m outclassed and outgunned. I hope he won’t take me anywhere too public.
He holds out his hands and cocks a crooked grin. “I didn’t mean for you to do the dishes.”
“You were busy cleaning your cock, so I figured I’d get my hands wet some other way.” The words slip right out of me. Geez, what happened to my filter?
He smirks, winking. Whatever was bothering him before is gone. He taps the tip of my nose with his pointer finger and grins. “I’m looking forward to washing out that filthy, sweet mouth of yours.”
I lick my lips and put on my most innocent smile. “I’m looking forward to swallowing your slippery soap suds.”
His cheeks redden and he coughs. “Let’s kickoff the first date. Ready?”
Taking both my hands, he leans forward and dots a kiss on my lips, tugging at my lower lip with his teeth and letting go when I start to respond.
“After you.” I can’t think of anything at the moment, so I follow that swaggering tight ass of his out the door of the cabin. Honestly, there’s something bad ass about a guy in boots. Add a guitar and a cowboy hat, and then—wait, that would be Ben’s brother Nash who’s on his way into town.
I reach in my purse for my phone before remembering I don’t have it. Nash is supposed to stay with me at my apartment while he prepares for the benefit concert.
“Uh, Ben? Can I check my phone?” I catch him as he unlocks his truck.
“I thought this was a phone-free zone.”
“One message, okay? I promise I won’t even read a text. Nothing.”
“Sure, I think that’ll work.” He reaches into the glove box and hands me my phone. “You’ll only have time for a text or two since the place I’m taking you isn’t far away.”
“Thanks.” I hop into the cab and scroll to Nash’s contact. I didn’t know there was anything around this neck of the woods, but then, this is coastal California and the illusion of privacy comes only from the stands of redwoods. There are no doubt neighbors on both sides in giant McMansions, hidden only by the large trees.
I text Nash. Hey, something came up, but you can get my key from Lacy. I’ll see you when I get back.
“There, that ought to do.” I say more to myself than to Ben as I turn off the phone. Might as well save the battery.
“Grandpa isn’t due out of the hospital until Friday,” Ben says as he pulls around a grove of redwoods and into a dirt parking lot.
“So, we only have today and tomorrow before you have to get back?”
“It’s enough time for three dates, isn’t it?” He winks and pinches my thigh.
I hide my blush by turning toward the window. A log cabin sits in the clearing and a wooden sign proclaims, “Eat at Jack’s.” A wooden lumberjack stands at the entrance holding an axe over his shoulder.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Ben says as he opens the door and helps me out.
I wrap my arms around him and kiss him on his square, lumberjack jaw, still fuzzy because he hadn’t had time to shave. “I’ll eat all the sausage you can stuff into me.”
He rewards me with a searing kiss and nips my earlobe. “I’ll hold you to that, greedy girl.”
“As long as you lick my biscuit.” I shoot him a saucy wink, causing his Adam’s apple to bulge.
The entire interior is made of wood since it’s the inside of a log cabin. A decorated Christmas tree sits at the entrance alongside brightly painted wooden nutcracker soldiers and a row of reindeer made of logs and sticks. Plastic leis dangle around their necks and only one reindeer has a bright red lightbulb nose.
The aroma of strong coffee, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, bacon and syrup has my mouth watering and my stomach growling. I can’t wait for this date to be over so we can make out at second-base, or should I say, the fifty-yard line?
By the time the food arrives, I’m famished. Ben orders enough for an Army or a football team: piles of pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup, cut fruit, and pomegranate juice, and of course sausage, eggs and bacon. I stick with the fruit and toast, taking a small piece of pancake and watch his large mouth devour the food.
I should have cooked for him, gone with him to the grocery store and bought breakfast food. Instead, he’s treating me like a princess and not asking anything in return.
“What do you usually eat for Christmas breakfast?” I ask, in case I have a chance to pay him back.
“Eggs Bennett.” He smiles, chewing on a sausage biscuit.
“Eggs Bennett or Eggs Benedict?” I clarify, making a note in my mind to learn that recipe.
“Bennett. That’s my full name.”
“Okay, Eggs Bennett, is it the same as the Benedict version?”
“Nope, instead of English muffins and Hollandaise sauce, we use biscuits and country gravy. My mom invented it when she couldn’t figure out how to keep the Hollandaise sauce from curdling.”
“Great, so Eggs Bennett is easier?”
“Definitely. We also use cured ham instead of Canadian bacon, but we do use hens’ eggs.”
“Do you have her recipe?” I pick at the blueberries in the pancake. I love his name, Bennett. It sounds fun and intelligent.
“It’s in a box at Grandpa’s cabin.” His voice roughens. “She was ready to have Christmas with us.”
“I’m so sorry.” I cover his hand with mine. It’s shaking. After all these years, he’s still missing her.
“Don’t be. Grandma made breakfast for us that year.”
“I’m making Christmas breakfast for you this year. I promise it. For you and Grandpa.” Again, where’s my filter? Why am I offering, as if we’d still be together by then?
His dark brown eyes mist as he stares at me, swallowing the lump in his th
roat. “It won’t be the same.”
A lump grows in my throat too, and I tamp down the slight rejection of my offer. “Of course it won’t be the same. I have yet to learn the recipes.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He stares down at his plate and starts stabbing the pancakes. Stab. Stab. Stab. The four tines of the fork make criss-crossing punctures where the syrup seeps, darkening them.
A chill sweeps over me, and I turn to see if someone has opened the door. The hum of people chattering, the clangs and tinkle of silverware and plates, and the warmth of the potbelly stove don’t seem to reach us. It’s like Ben and I are in a snow globe turned upside down.
Chapter 44
~ Ben ~
I’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. Better to go back in that box again where everything’s neat and predictable.
Ben didn’t dare glance at Brittney. He didn’t know what to say. He tried smiling, but his mouth was too stiff to stretch. His heart thudded like a flat tire on a rutted dirt road, and he couldn’t taste anything in his throat but dust.
It wasn’t her fault she’d offered to recreate his mother’s recipes. She was being kind. Maybe she felt sorry for him, and dammit, he should be over this by now. Ten Christmases had gone by. At first, Grandma kept the hearth burning and the eggnog flowing. He’d been able to convince his father to let him spend Christmas with them, and he could almost believe his mother still lived—that she was just around the corner with Colleen. Maybe they were playing in the park, or collecting pinecones. He’d pictured his mother pushing Colleen on the old tire swing beside the cabin, her feet crunching on the pine needles.
All his problems didn’t belong to Brittney. She had enough of her own—more than enough. He’d brought her out here to relax and recover. What right did he have to shove more stress on her shoulders?
