by Tessa Layne
Hope nodded.
“Spill.” Maddie leaned forward expectantly.
“So you know how Axe and Gunn pretty much left me to my own devices when I was little?”
Maddie nodded. “Yeah.”
“And sometimes you and I would play together, but then you’d get bored and wander off to look at astronomy books?”
Maddie nodded again.
“When I was by myself, I’d go play by the creek. Skip rocks, climb trees. Play pretend.”
“What does that have to do with Ben?”
“I’m getting there. So the summer I was six, I was down at my favorite bend in the creek, working on building a tree house. Tree hut, really,” Hope corrected. “And Ben surprised me. He was there with his horse, Blackhawk, looking for arrowheads.”
“Of course he was,” Maddie rubbed her belly, a dreamy look on her face. As if she was imagining her little one running over the Sinclaire property the way Ben had.
“We had a rock skipping contest and I won. But then he helped me build my first tree house–”
“First tree house?” Maddie straightened in the seat. “Wait. You had a tree house?”
“Have, Maddie. I have a tree house. That Ben built.”
“What? Where?” Maddie screeched, hands flying to her cheeks.
“Shhh. I’ll get to that in a minute.”
“Blake is gonna freak.”
Hope skewered her with a hard stare. “You’re not going to tell Blake, at least right now,” she amended.
“Right. I promise, I won’t spill. But Hope. This is huge.”
“Ben helped me build a tree house, but you know how the families have struggled, so we spit shook that it would be a secret.”
“You spit shook, and neither of you told a soul for twenty years? That’s crazy, Hope.”
Hope shrugged. “Maybe. We built another tree house when the first blew down in a storm. That one stood until recently, when Ben rebuilt it.”
“So you two stayed friends even during the most recent feud?”
Hope nodded. “I don’t know why, except that he was always easy to be around. And fun.”
“And when did you know you were in love?” Maddie was practically bouncing in her seat.
Heat prickled the back of Hope’s neck, and butterflies took flight in her belly. “Well, I think I always loved him. At least the way I love you, or Axe or Gunn. But when did I start… fantasizing about Ben? Imagining what it was like to kiss him? I think it was right around the time you left for college.”
A pained expression flitted across Maddie’s face. “I never thought how my leaving for college would affect you. I just wanted out.”
A surge of sorrow and longing passed through Hope. “I know.” She blew out a breath, surprised at the tears springing to life behind her eyes. “It was… hard when you left. And Ben the same year. But he came back throughout the year to help on the ranch, and stayed home during the summers. And he always stopped by the tree house.” She shrugged sheepishly. “So, it just kind of happened.”
Hope wasn’t ready to share how he’d rejected her though. The pain of that, even these years later, still hurt when she thought about it.
Maddie’s eyes shone. “You’ve lived a fairytale, Hope.”
“Not exactly.”
“But you’re going to marry your childhood sweetheart. I just know it.”
Hope laughed nervously. “You have love on the brain.”
“Seriously, Hope. You two are perfect for each other. Wait until I tell Blake.”
She shook her head. “You pinky swore. Please don’t say anything, not right now.”
“But why not? You have nothing to hide. If anything, it will bring our families closer together.”
Dottie rang a champagne glass. “Gather round, Posse. We have some gifts for the bride-to-be that might come in use for her wedding night.”
A twitter of delight rippled through the ladies present.
“Come sit by the hearth, Jamey,” Martha invited. “Gather ’round, everyone.” Martha’s cheeks were pink from excitement. The Posse sure loved their parties. Gloria McPherson, organist at First Lutheran off Main, and the other Posse matrons stepped forward, arms laden with boxes and bags. The younger Posse members – Millie Prescott who ran the organic grocery store, and Emmaline – took seats in front of Jamey.
“Oh Jamey,” Millie clapped her hands. “I just know you and Brodie are going to have a blessed marriage. I can see it.” She beamed like she’d been given a vision.
“Thanks, Millie.” Jamey’s curls bounced as she tossed her head. “I can’t wait for you to see my wedding dress. Emmaline is making a work of art.” Jamey gave Maddie a delighted grin. “So long as Maddie doesn’t pop before the wedding.”
Maddie ran a hand over her belly. “I promise, the bean will stay put until after Christmas.”
“It better.” Emmaline agreed. “Or your dress won’t fit.”
Dottie clapped her hands again. “Enough chit-chat. We have presents, ladies.”
Hope’s mother held out a small bag, eyes twinkling. “Why don’t you start with this one, Jamey?”
Jamey peeked in the bag then shut it, eyes rolling dramatically. “You did not, Martha.”
Gloria McPherson clapped her hands, giggling. “Oh is that the Adam and Eve strawberry clit sensitizer gel?”
Hope clapped a hand over her mouth. She did not just hear that from a woman her mother’s age.
Jamey grinned as she pulled out the bottle, giving it a little shake. “Oh you naughties. Maddie warned me you’d be out of control.”
“Oh there’s more,” said Millie, a far away look in her eye. “Toys are a natural part of healthy sex between a husband and wife.”
Hope nudged Maddie. “Are they always this way?”
Maddie giggled. “And getting worse with each party they throw.”
“Don’t let them do this for me. My own mother?”
Maddie leaned close. “You and Ben better elope then.”
For the second time that day, Hope pictured a future with Ben. This time, it didn’t feel nearly as terrifying.
Cackles from the ladies erupted as Jamey held up fuzzy handcuffs and then a long tickle feather.
“Is there a sex shop in Prairie I don’t know about?” Hope murmured.
Maddie shook her head. “No. They found some website last spring.”
Jamey pulled a final box up onto her lap and began to work at the bow.
“Lydia sent this one,” Dottie explained. “Package arrived yesterday afternoon.”
Jamey’s jaw dropped as she pushed back the lid, then flew to Dottie’s shining face. “Holy mother of divine fu–”
Dottie cleared her throat meaningfully, and Jamey’s expletive died on her lips. “You shouldn’t have Dottie.”
Dottie beamed with pride. “I have no control over my daughters, Jamey. Now, show the ladies. I haven’t even seen these yet.”
Jamey held up a beautiful pair of white, mid-calf, high-heeled western-style boots, embroidered with silver fleur-de-lis and pale green shamrocks. Gasps, squeals, and noises of admiration spread through the group.
“They’re stunning, Jamey.” Hope had never seen anything so lovely. Maddie had shown her the boots Lydia had sent for her wedding to Blake. She sighed wistfully. Would she ever wear something like that at her wedding? At one time, she’d spent hours fantasizing about her perfect wedding to her perfect groom. Cold, hard reality had dumped ice water on her silly teenage dreams.
But now that she and Ben were officially ‘a thing’… was it possible? Part of her thrilled at the idea of being Mrs. Ben. A much larger part had no faith it could happen. For starters, she’d have to level with him about why she came home. And no matter how connected they were in bed, no matter how he made her feel when he smiled at her, or held her hand, she instinctively knew how he’d respond.
Ben had the utmost integrity. He was a good man. In the truest sense of the word. Kind and gentle, b
ut unafraid to kick ass when necessary. Except he’d never needed to kick ass. Everyone respected him. And what broke her heart, more than a little bit, was the knowledge that she might lose that respect. Her stomach dropped like a stone at the thought. If she could just get Buttercup trained up enough to win the mustang competition… then. Then she could have a heart to heart with Ben.
CHAPTER 20
Thanksgiving dawned warm and sunny. For the first time, at least in the last hundred years, as close as anyone could tell, the Sinclaires and Hansens would be joining forces to celebrate. Jamey and Brodie had decided it was the perfect time to throw an engagement party. In addition to the Hansens and Sinclaires, several of Jamey’s family would be visiting from Boston, as well as Mason Carter, Blake’s best friend from college. A handful of Prairie residents had also been invited. The ladies from the Posse, Travis Kincaid, the town’s chief police officer, and Elaine Ryder, who worked for Dottie and doubled as the town librarian.
Simon, Ben’s twelve year-old half-brother, came scampering into the kitchen at the Big House where Ben was waiting patiently for Blake and Maddie to come downstairs.
Ben ruffled Simon’s hair affectionately. “You look great, big guy.” He looked his little brother up and down. “Aren’t those pants getting a little short?”
Simon nodded proudly. “I’ve grown since Blake and Maddie’s wedding.”
The party this evening was fancy dress. At least as fancy as Prairie got, which meant dark pants, white shirts, polished boots, cufflinks, and maybe a jacket.
“I guess you’ll need a new pair for Jamey and Brodie’s wedding, huh?”
Simon nodded enthusiastically. “Will you take me?”
Ben chuckled. “Nope. But we’ll get Martha or Dottie to take you.”
“What about Jamey?” Simon asked hopefully. “Would she take me?”
“I’m sure she would, kiddo. Ask her tonight.”
Blake walked in, loosely holding Maddie’s hand. Her pregnancy looked good on both of them. Ben had never seen Blake so happy and relaxed. Excited even, about his upcoming fatherhood. Maddie, who could, on occasion, stray into uptight territory, had blossomed as her belly swelled.
Ben couldn’t help but wonder if Hope would be as radiant carrying his child. Would she want to carry his child? Hell, if Hope told him she wanted a baby, he’d get to work right away. He was more than ready to settle down and begin the next phase of his life.
“You gentlemen ready?” Maddie asked, eyes lit with excitement. “You’re going to love this evening.” She looked directly at Ben as she spoke. He’d been on the receiving end of many significant glances from Maddie over the last week. Did she know something he didn’t? He longed to take her aside and ask her, but he and Blake had been working around the clock making plans for the following spring.
They all piled into Blake’s truck, Ben and Simon sharing the tiny seat in the back of the cab. In minutes, they’d pulled up in front of the hunting lodge.
Paper luminarias lined the gravel drive to the front door, and someone had wrapped twinkle lights around the lintels that supported a tiny roof over the door. The party was in full swing as they approached. Guests spilled out the french doors to the patio, and inside, Irish music played from speakers Brodie had rigged from the balcony. The long dining table groaned with traditional Thanksgiving fare like turkey, pie, stuffing, and potatoes. Ben recognized a few of Millie Prescott’s employees passing trays of fancier food. Turkey sandwiches, bacon-wrapped figs, pheasant pâté on crackers. All gluten-free of course, because the hunting lodge had gone officially gluten-free. Jamey had celiac disease and couldn’t cook with regular flour. Ben didn’t care, though. Everything Jamey touched was heavenly.
Did Hope cook? He had no idea. Maddie didn’t, but Blake didn’t seem to care. He didn’t care either. He’d cooked them dinner the other night when Hope had spent the night at his place. If he needed to cook every night to woo her, he’d do it. Ben scanned the crowd, looking for her.
Her parents, Eddie and Martha, were chatting in the corner with one of Jamey’s brothers, who was visiting from Boston. In front of the fireplace, Axel and Gunnar had approached a couple of Dottie’s employees from the diner. Where was Hope?
Ben grabbed a beer from an ice-filled tub by the table and wove through the crowd. Maybe she was in the kitchen. A quick glance through the doorway confirmed she wasn’t there, either. A little tendril of worry curled through him. Had she stayed home? She wasn’t much for crowds, but he couldn’t imagine her staying home on Thanksgiving.
Ben spied a woman at Gunnar’s elbow, hair the color of Hope’s, but that couldn’t be her. For starters, the woman’s hair cascaded down her back in silky waves. He’d only ever seen Hope in braids in public. But then she turned.
Holy. Hell.
His cock instantly stood at attention as his feet propelled him forward, moving of their own accord.
Hope stood before him, nearly at eye-level with him because she wore three-inch heels. She wore a simple v-neck black dress that hugged her curves. And make-up. Not much. Just enough to enhance her natural beauty. Ben had never seen her eyes look so blue, or her lips look so luscious.
Speech failed him.
He could only stand there and smile, wearing his heart on his sleeve. God, he wanted to bury his hands in her hair, and let her silken strands brush over him. “Hope.”
“Hi,” she answered shyly, pink blooming on her cheeks.
“You look…” he couldn’t speak. “Beautiful,” when he’d found his voice again. “You’re beautiful.”
The smile she gave him turned him to jello. “Yeah?”
He reached out and pulled her into an embrace, ignoring the scowl Axel shot him over Gunnar’s shoulder. He didn’t fucking care. He only had eyes for Hope. “Happy Thanksgiving.” He covered her mouth with his, allowing himself just a little taste of her. She wore perfume. A heady substance that smelled like lilacs and spring. If he could, he’d sweep her away this second and make sweet love to her. With her hair spread out on a pillow, or hanging over him. Either. Both. He didn’t care. She bowled him over.
“Drink,” he said, when he could finally think straight. “Can I get you a drink?”
She lifted an empty flute. “They’re pouring champagne.”
“Perfect.” He kept a hand in the small of her back and guided her to the kitchen and grabbed two new flutes off the island, handing one to Hope.
He clinked his glass to hers before taking a sip. “To fresh starts.”
“To fresh starts,” she echoed, her eyes never leaving his.
Ben’s breath caught as he held her gaze, and the electricity arced between them.
“Hungry?” He finally asked when he thought he could speak again.
Her eyes gleamed. “Very.”
She wasn’t talking about food. Hope had never brazenly flirted with him before, and he loved this new side of her. But more than ever, it made him want to get her alone. To run his hands under the hem of her dress and discover what was waiting for him. Heat prickled up his neck, and he finished his champagne in one swallow. “It’s hot in here. Would you like to step outside?”
The wicked smile she gave him spoke volumes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Taking her elbow, he steered her back through the party and out onto the patio. Blake had brought over Maddie’s telescope earlier in the afternoon and a crowd had gathered, waiting to take a look.
Ben kept them close to the house, and they followed the brick path behind the far end of the patio and around the corner, to where the lodge overlooked a bend in the river. As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Ben turned and pressed Hope against the wall, bringing his mouth to hers.
Immediately, her hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. He’d never kissed a woman he was eye level with before, and he loved it. Hope in heels was a revelation. He thrust his fingers into her hair, letting the strands flow through his hands like water.
He t
eased her mouth open, and swept his tongue into her sweet recesses. She tasted faintly of champagne. Her hand came to his waist and tugged on his shirt.
“God, Hope,” he groaned, breathing heavily. “I love your hair long and loose like this. And those heels. Promise me you’ll keep them on later.”
She let out a husky laugh. “So you like it then?”
“I love it. I love you, Hope. I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want you right now.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he growled.
“I don’t mean to… it’s just… it’s just–”
He cut her off with another searing kiss. He had half a mind to lift her dress and take her in the dark. Hell, he wanted to. No doubt about it.
“You’re a dream come true, Ben,” she said, when they parted. “We need to talk.”
“Not tonight,” he muttered huskily. “Kissing first.” He covered her mouth again and moved against her, running his hands down her curves. She moaned into his mouth and responded, tilting her hips into his. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Yes.” Her hands dove under his shirt, skating across his middle, setting him on fire. If it was cold outside, he had no idea. The way she touched him made him heated him from the inside out.
Hope pulled away again. “Ben,” she said, her voice husky with need. “You promised we could talk.”
“Now, woman? You want to talk now?”
“Yes, please.”
Bracing an arm against the wall, he slowed his breathing. Then he straightened, tucking his shirt back into his pants.
“What is it, sweetheart? Talk to me.”
She grabbed the corner of his jacket and began to fiddle with it. “When I was in Kentucky–”
“Coming around the corner, Sinclaire,” Axel’s voice called out. “We know you’re sucking face with our sister.”
Motherfucker.
He clenched his fist on the wall, and gazed heavenward, praying for patience that seemed to have eluded him. Next to him, Hope gasped, and smoothed her dress.
“Do I look okay?” She hissed. “I swear to God I’m going to put tarantulas in their covers.”
