by C. M. Owens
Just as another set burst into the sky, I hear a dog barking like crazy, and screams erupting.
I run in, grab the binoculars off Benson’s table, and run back out, looking through them.
“What’s going on?” Benson asks.
I realize it’s Cooter, my brothers’ bloodhound that roams around, when he runs in front of a light. But it’s what he’s chasing that has my heart pattering.
“Cooter,” I say on a groan.
There’s a squirrel with a set of firecrackers going off on a long string attached to its tail. Cooter is howling, doing all he can to catch the squirrel and the firecrackers. I can’t see what happens when they aren’t in front of the light.
Then I screech when I hear a loud squeal from across the lake, and suddenly fireworks are shooting this way.
Benson jerks me down to the ground, and the binoculars fall out of my hand as he covers my body with his.
Fireworks boom right above us, debris from the too-close explosives raining down on us and his house. Paul screams and yelps as he falls to the ground and starts scooting his ass across it.
“Ow!” he howls.
Another one almost connects with his back, and Benson presses more of his body on top of me until I’m completely shielded.
“Get down!” Benson shouts to all the idiots who haven’t ducked for cover yet.
Another firework blasts right above us, knocking his rain gutter loose as the blindingly bright, white blast leaves dots on my vision.
I blink rapidly.
My ears ache from all the close contact noise.
It grows deadly silent as quickly as things got out of hand, and I peer around, still seeing a few dots, wondering if it’s safe.
“Are there more?” Benson calls out loudly.
“No! None that are lit!” my uncle calls back. “I’m going to kill those fucking heathens!”
“I’ll help!” Benson yells as he stands and helps drag me to my feet.
Leave it to my brothers to get one night back at my aunt’s and ruin the fireworks.
“What happened to the squirrel?” I call out.
“Cooter got him,” Uncle Bill answers.
I grimace, but silently hope it was one of the squirrel bastards who has been chewing through my wiring in the attic and making my life hell. Benson tugs me to his side.
“Let’s get our drink on, beardless animals!” Paul roars, no longer concerned about his scorched ass as he drags Delaney back into Benson’s house.
Benson sighs as we both trudge back in.
Why oh why did I get rid of the beards?
Chapter 9
Wild Ones Tip #227
Never listen to drunk confessions, or you might become an accomplice after the fact.
LILAH
People are crashing on couches and in the spare rooms—including mine, apparently. I don’t realize this until I push open the door to see Paul and Delaney kissing on the bed I had the other night.
Sighing, I shut the door, and turn around to see a smirking Benson. “You’ll have to double with me tonight. It’s not like it’ll be the first time we’ve slept together.”
His eyes run over my body, and I try to act like I’m as confident as he is. That night is what really changed everything, sent me on this downward spiral into the rabbit hole.
I move toward his room like I’m not internally shaking like crazy.
“Can I borrow a shirt or something?”
He doesn’t respond, but as soon as we walk into his room, he pulls out a drawer and tosses me a shirt. I look around his room, since it’s the only one in the house I’ve never seen before.
It always felt like a personal boundary that I never crossed, even though he’s seen my room plenty of times.
I happily accept the shirt, and duck into his bathroom—which is not the same bathroom he went into back when I followed him—and gasp.
Because it’s massive.
There’s a huge walk-in, tiled shower with two showerheads on each side, and one massive rainfall showerhead right in the middle. The glass doors are pristine, as though he always cleans them.
The floors are…holy shit! The floors are heated!
Towels are neatly rolled inside bamboo shelves off to the side, and then there’s a towel warmer built into the wall, glass casing surrounding it.
It’s a bathroom wet dream.
“You okay in there?” he calls out.
“No. I’m moving into your bathroom. You’ll never get rid of me.”
His laughter is soft, because he thinks I’m kidding. I’m already doing the math on how big my bed can be.
I almost sing Hallelujah when I see the large, granite countertops with so much space you’d never have to worry about things toppling into the wet sink when you’re trying to use them. Plenty of drawers for storage too.
It’s…perfect.
“Are you still looking at everything?”
“Never coming out,” I tell him as I tug my shirt off and replace it with his, then pull my shorts off.
I fold my clothes neatly and take them back out, and he flashes a grin at me as he looks up from his phone. He’s sitting on the bed, looking every bit as tempting as he possibly can, as I place my clothes on his dresser.
“Why don’t you have a phone?” he asks me randomly. Three years we’ve been friends, and he asks this question now of all times?
I shrug. “Why would I have one?”
“Well, for business for one.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“Facebook has video calling, regular calling, and text. Email has chat boxes for immediate things. Also, my preferred method of communication with my clients is email, because otherwise, they try to monopolize the hours that I carve out for just me. Phones just mean less face-to-face interaction. I prefer to speak to my friends or family in person.”
He smiles like he likes that answer. “But sometimes someone might want to call you to tell you to come see them.”
“If they want to see me, they know where I live or the other few places to find me. Like all the other Wild Ones, I raise the flag when I’m at the cabin; I put it down when I’m not.”
He laughs under his breath. “You’re a complicated woman, Lilah Vincent.”
“Actually, I’m very uncomplicated. As simple as they come.”
His grin turns thoughtful as I near him, and I move onto the bed next to him, careful not to let the shirt ride up.
“That’s probably the most wrong I’ve ever heard you,” he finally says.
I snort derisively, stabbing my legs under the covers. I always get cold right before I go to sleep.
Benson shifts, tugging the covers down, and I turn away, trying not to hyperventilate when he takes off his pants, revealing his nice, black boxers. He slides into bed, staggering a little, and his hands immediately go for me, grappling me and pulling me back to him.
“You haven’t pushed my hands away tonight. Is it because I finally got rid of the beard?” he muses, his hands sliding down my hip, hesitating where the T-shirt stops.
“No,” I say, swallowing thickly.
He presses a kiss to my neck before curving his body around mine a little better. I stare at the wall in front of me like it’s fascinating.
“Then why?” he asks quietly.
I shudder when he starts pushing the T-shirt up.
“Because when I woke up on top of you, I realized I wanted to do more than just sleep there.”
He groans when his hand slides up my bare hip.
“Are you really not wearing any underwear?” he asks, sounding somewhat tortured.
I swallow audibly this time. “Bugs.”
His hand pauses, and then he laughs into the crook of my neck.
“Bugs,” he says on a sigh. “Forgot about that.”
I turn in his arms, and all the humor leaves his face as my eyes take in his features, studying him now that I can see his expressions so easily.
“What are we do
ing right now?”
He slides his hand back over me, then he jerks me toward him until our bodies are pressed together completely. My leg comes up over his hip, and I suck in a breath when I feel something really hard and promising right up against my pubic bone.
“I don’t really know. But I know I’ve wanted to do it for the past year.”
“The past year?”
He nods slowly, his eyes scanning my face. “Always thought you were gorgeous—maybe even freakishly gorgeous,” he says, mocking my last words about Liam. Do I detect a hint of jealousy?
A smile slithers over my lips.
“But at first I thought you weren’t the type to stick around here. You’d already gone to Seattle once, so I distanced myself. Then as the years whittled on, I started seeing you as the girl next door, sort of. A constant Vincent nuisance, yet also a breath of fresh air. But never thought of anything more. Then, somehow, we became friends, and I couldn’t believe I’d ever not been friends with you.”
I inch closer to him, and he flicks his gaze over my face again.
“Then one year ago almost exactly, I was burying that damn cat your aunt had saddled me with. I didn’t even realize I liked the damn thing until I found it dead at the edge of the lake. You showed up to borrow my axe, but saw what was going on. You never mentioned the fact I was crying like a pussy over a cat, and you helped me bury him. Then you held my hand, said a prayer for him, and stayed the rest of the night while I got drunk and touched you a little inappropriately.”
I cock my head.
“You were trying to put moves on me? That wasn’t just drunken bullshit?”
He laughs, his eyes lowering briefly. “Pretty much. Never knew it was an issue with the beard.”
“The beard was just very distracting. Sleeping on you, feeling that boundary crossed, and waking up feeling unsatisfied…that’s when I realized…I still don’t know what we’re doing,” I say on a long sigh.
He grins, staring at me. “Nothing while we’ve been drinking.”
That…irks me. We’re supposed to sleep in the same bed and do nothing? Again?!
Okay, so last time it was a couch, but still.
“You’re serious?”
His grin only grows. “Yeah. I’m serious. I’ve waited a year. I can wait one more day to make sure you’re sober.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs. “You kept saying you weren’t ready to settle down. But then there was a little hope when you said Liam wouldn’t settle down, almost as though you’d slipped up and said it, then tried to back pedal.”
He bends, his delicious breath bathing my lips, and my whole body tenses and burns as a powerful ache forms between my thighs.
“That was when I decided you were ready, because I knew once I had you, I wouldn’t be able to give you up. And I won’t share.”
I lean forward, ready to see if those lips of his are as soft as they look, but he reels back, grinning at me when my eyes open.
“Tomorrow,” he says softly.
Lucky for him, I happen to be exhausted tonight.
Chapter 10
Wild Ones Tip #645
Mean what you say. Or keep your mouth shut. And don’t get upset when we put words in your mouth if you plead silence.
LILAH
I jerk awake, feeling around for Benson, but his side of the bed is cold. I do hear muffled words coming from the bathroom, and I stand to go listen.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Mom. I’m not concerned with any of that. Haven’t been in a long time. That’s not why I still live here.” He grows quiet, and my brow furrows. This is the first time I’ve ever heard him talk to any of his family.
“Yeah. Two weeks from now. I’ll see you guys then.”
Again he grows quiet, and I shamelessly press my ear to the door.
“I’ve already told you I don’t care if they come, but it’s up to you which rooms they take. They’ve come plenty of other times. Just so long as it’s nowhere near mine, I’ve never given a damn which rooms they’re in.”
He groans like he’s frustrated.
“I know they’re divorced. I don’t see her like that anymore. But stop thinking we’re going to be that kind of family that doesn’t have scars.”
I frown, pulling back from the door.
“Look, I have to go. I have some friends who crashed here last night.”
Yes, I keep listening, wondering if he might mention me to his mother. Then realize how creepy that sounds and hope he doesn’t mention me.
“Yes, I have friends, Mom,” he says, sounding amused. “Many of them.”
Another beat passes.
“Because it’s Tomahawk.”
I roll my eyes, inwardly groaning as he chuckles, and I back away from the door. Apparently his family and his friends get the same reasoning as to why one can’t know about the other.
I jog back to the bed, looking guilty as hell when he swings open that door. His eyes widen in surprise that I’m awake. Or maybe he’s surprised that I’m here. I suddenly feel underdressed, because this is not how I envisioned this morning going after last night.
He opens his mouth to speak, when we hear laughter float up the stairs.
“Benson! You awake yet? We can’t get your fancy stove to work!” Paul yells. “And we’re starving.”
He groans, and I tug at the ends of his shirt to cover me a little better.
My boat and Aunt Penny’s Jeep are both here, and I decide on the Jeep as he hustles out without saying a word. He’s always embarrassed the day after drinking, and last night…things got real.
Now he’s dodging me.
Got it. I don’t need a sign.
I do need pants.
Quickly, I hurry to the room where my clothes are, find something to wear, brush my teeth, and creep down the stairs to the sounds of people chuckling.
“That damn dog destroyed the fireworks,” I hear Joey saying. I forgot he was even here last night. There were a lot of people still here when we went to bed.
Sounds like they still are, but I tiptoe out the back—or front!—door to the Jeep. I’m silent as I close the door, and then I crank it and put it in gear, getting out like it’s the walk of shame, minus the fun, shameful part.
I make the long drive through town, then drive all the way to Aunt Penny’s, park her Jeep, and hop out, pulling my backpack on as I go. I slowly walk through the woods, hoping that cougar isn’t lurking for round two, since I’m unarmed. Again.
My eyes stay on the bank, somewhat hoping to hear the roar of Benson’s boat. But that doesn’t happen. And when I get to my cabin, my dock is empty, except for my brothers’ boat that is tied off next to the broken end of the dock they still haven’t repaired.
I stalk up my steps, into my cabin, and crash to my very uncomfortable couch as I stare up at the ceiling. At least I have work that needs to be done.
I glance into my bedroom, and I grin when I see my brothers really did rebuild my bed to the proper size. It’s even made.
I go to the bed, sigh as I pull the covers back and find fake spiders all over the sheet.
They didn’t want to piss me off too badly, or those bastards would have been real. Then I would have had to burn the bed down. Possibly the cabin too.
After cleaning it off, I get to work.
Almost an hour passes, and I already have three out of four of my jobs done for the week. I’m on a roll, when there’s suddenly a pounding at my door. A very loud, very angry pounding.
“You assholes are not getting in! You promised on the graves you’d leave me alone!”
I grab my BB gun from beside the couch, pumping it once, preparing for battle.
“It’s me. Put the gun down and open the door.”
Benson.
I glance around, wondering if he can somehow see me through the solid door. My windows have curtains blocking out the sun, keeping the glare off my laptop.
Apparently he just knows me re
ally well, since there’s literally no other way he could know what I’m doing.
Warily, I put the laptop aside, then creep to the door and unlock it. Before I can get it all the way open, he’s shouldering his way inside.
My breath leaves in a rush as he grabs my waist with one hand, and his other hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back seconds before his mouth finds mine.
His tongue…I think I love his tongue, I decide, when it starts doing indescribably wonderful things to mine—teasing me, taunting me, fueling me.
I moan into his mouth as the kiss grows more aggressive, and my hands slip up to his shoulders as he presumably kicks the door shut.
He starts walking me backwards, still devouring my mouth, and I clutch him closer, drinking him in just as hungrily.
Maybe I read the situation wrong this morning, because this does not feel like a guy who regrets telling me he wanted me.
He lifts me, moving toward the bedroom, then pauses when he breaks the kiss.
I take the chance to breathe and look at his face. I’m so glad I can finally see his face, because those lips are perfect. I really love those lips.
“They fixed your bed,” he says, causing me to blink and try to get some senses back.
“Yeah,” I tell him, sounding breathy and girly at the same time.
He looks around warily. “Did you check under the sheets?”
“Fake spiders. They’re gone.”
He nods, still looking around.
“What about under the bed?”
“Nothing there.”
“You’re sure?”
I reach up and grab a handful of hair on the back of his head and drag his mouth back down to mine. He groans, and his hands go back to gripping me and walking me backwards.
My knees touch the bed, and he starts lowering me to it. We slide onto it together as he starts tearing at my shirt.
“Get naked,” I demand, and he grins against my lips.
“Not until you tell me why you snuck out.”
I gawk at him. “Are you kidding?” I ask incredulously, causing his eyebrows to go up.
At his oblivious stare, I realize he’s not kidding.
