This Love of Mine

by Miranda Liasson

  “Nope.” She wiped it off with her thumb, and as she did so, her hand grazed his bearded cheek. It was surprisingly soft and his lips were soft and moist and oh, so kissable. Maybe she lingered just a bit too long after she wiped off the bit of marshmallow, because Jax cleared his throat.

  “Hate to interrupt, but it’s time to get the Light Ceremony started.”

  “See you later,” Meg said as he left to lead the traditional songs and help the kids toss their cones. The tossing was supposed to symbolize letting go of something—a problem, a crutch—and using the weekend to help to overcome it. Like maybe she could think of just letting go and having fun with him. Let things go where they may.

  “If you’re nice to me, later I just might bring you some chocolate.” He winked at her, back to his usual joking self.

  A simple, quiet wink, followed by the slightest upturn of his beautiful mouth that nearly brought her to her knees.

  “Get going.” She gave him a little shove in the back. Oops, she shouldn’t have touched that back, all hard ridges and planes under the soft cotton of his shirt.

  He walked off with Jax, but turned around long enough to give her a sinful half smile.

  Suddenly she became aware of Stacy standing beside her, watching her intently. She struggled to act normal, as if every hormone in her body wasn’t firing off like a Fourth of July fireworks display.

  Meg decided to speak, if anything to deflect Stacy’s questions. “I can’t wait to see all the lanterns lit up in the canoes.”

  “I wish I could fit into a canoe. I think I’ll just stay on shore and put my feet up. My back is killing me.”

  “Maybe I’ll join you. I think seeing it from shore is the best way to enjoy it.”

  “What I’m enjoying is the smoking hot chemistry between you two.” Stacy fanned herself with her paper plate.

  Meg could testify to that. Because she was pretty sure her panties had just caught on fire and turned to ash.

  “How long have you two been dating, anyway?” Stacy asked.

  “Not very long.” Like, did fake-dating a week count?

  “But you grew up together, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve had a massive crush on him for years.” True, completely true.

  “You only reconnected recently?”

  “Um—Ben was my brother’s best friend.” She didn’t say that Patrick had died, and that Ben had hardly spoken to her for years after that, but she wished she could. She liked Stacy. In any other circumstance, Meg felt confident they would be friends.

  “Well, he’s certainly crazy about you. In fact, he’s staring at you.”

  Ben was standing in front of the kids, leading them in camp songs she vaguely remembered hearing as a child. He waved at her, and she waved back and smiled. But it felt like someone had tossed a wrench into her chest and was cranking her lungs tighter. It surprised her to realize she’d give anything for this thing between them to be real.

  Was some of it real? She was pretty sure she hadn’t imagined the way he’d looked at her. Or his flirting. Judging from the sultry glint in the depths of his eyes, he wanted her, too.

  Maybe he could never love her. Patrick’s ghost would always be wedged between them. Ben had clearly been traumatized by what had happened and her mother could not seem to forgive him for—for what—surviving?

  Maybe the best Ben was capable of was wanting her. He didn’t do relationships. But if wiping a stray crumb off his face could make every nerve ending buzz, what would happen with anything more?

  Complete nuclear annihilation, that was what.

  Except she would be the one who was destroyed, while he walked away unscathed. But oh, she did want him. If she could never have his love, should she accept what he could give her instead? And would that be enough to flush him out of her system for good?

  “Are you all right?” Stacy asked.

  Meg shook herself out of her trance. “Just worried about the obstacle course tomorrow.” She smiled at Stacy, who was finally eating her s’more. “I want you to know that I like you a lot, Stacy. I hope that whatever happens with this job, maybe someday we can become real friends.”

  “You know, Jax and Ben have been through some crazy stuff together since intern year, and they’ve always had each other’s backs. Jax is an intense competitor but he’s also a loyal friend. I hope this doesn’t ruin their friendship.”

  “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Meg said, giving her a side hug and walking over to where everyone was gathered by the fire waiting for the powwow to begin.

  Maybe she could let go enough to have him just for now. But she knew one thing as well as she knew her own address, that a brief affair with him would never, ever be enough. She wanted it all, and that was the one thing she could never, ever have.

  CHAPTER 12

  Nothing like a good obstacle course to get Ben’s adrenaline going and beat some pesky hormones right out of his system.

  He looked out over the field where the obstacles were set up and cracked his neck, which had a crick in it from sleeping on the sofa, if you could call what he did last night sleeping. More like trying to pretend five-feet-two inches of a certain soft, sexy woman wasn’t sleeping a couple feet away. Ignoring every soft sigh and little movement she made as she slept—or didn’t sleep, because based on all the fidgeting she did, she was having the same exact problem he was.

  But, thank God, it was morning at last, and his favorite event was about to begin.

  Ben saw Meg’s gaze flicker over the course, first eyeballing the climbing wall, then the logs set up to zigzag around, then the mountain of rocks that had to be scaled up and down. He saw the instant her eyes lit on the rope that swung over the giant puddle they referred to as The Moat. Instinctively, she gasped.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, grabbing the back of her hoodie as she started easing away. “No backing out now.”

  “I was happy making blankets,” she said darkly, referring to their first activity this morning where they’d tied long lengths of fleece together to make colorful throws with the kids.

  Four little girls stood behind her. Knock-kneed, gap-toothed, ponytailed girls with expectant looks. “I’m only doing this for the kids,” Meg said, “since you’ve gone and gotten them all riled up.”

  In response, he grinned. “Let’s hear it, Team Girl.” He loved talking smack to the kids. He went around fist pumping and high-fiving the kids and getting them to fake-taunt the other team, four boys led by Jax and Cynthia. The obstacle course made the kids forget about having diabetes and just rough and tumble it out like any normal kids.

  A little girl named Rebecca with lopsided braids pulled on Meg’s shirt. “I know you,” she said. “You had a date with my daddy.”

  Ben watched Meg’s cheeks turn crimson. “My daddy is Cole Hanson,” the little girl continued. “He’s a vet’narian.”

  “Oh, Dr. Hanson,” Meg said. “I did have dinner with your daddy. How did you know that?”

  “’Cause I heard him talk to you on the phone one night. He said you’re a good kisser.”

  Wait a minute. She’d kissed this guy? Ben only knew him in passing. A nice guy, and good-looking enough. Played tennis at the park. Hell, he couldn’t even criticize his job, because it was harder to get into vet school than med school.

  Meg’s face went from pink to deep magenta, but she smiled and tugged the girl’s braid. “Your dad is very nice. And he takes good care of my cats.” She turned to the other girls. “Are you all ready to rally as a team?”

  Rebecca tugged on her shirt again. “I’m feeling low,” she said.

  Meg squatted down to eye level. “Oh, no, sweetie. Don’t get depressed. We’re going to whup those boys’ butts.”

  Ben burst into laughter. “She means her blood sugar feels low. C’mon over here, Becca, and get some juice. Didn’t you eat any breakfast?”

  She shook her head solemnly. Her eyes were big and round and a little frightened
looking. “My tummy was hurting.”

  Ben put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. He asked Meg, “Do you mind rallying the troops while I help her?”

  “Of course not. But what should I do?”

  “I don’t know. Play a game or something.”

  “Like Duck Duck Goose?”

  “They’re not five. Just find some way to rowdy them up.” He drew close to whisper in her ear. “You know, so they aren’t scared.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “Unless you’re a little scared yourself?”

  “A little bit of mud doesn’t scare me.” She stuck out her chin and he couldn’t resist chucking it. Outrage flashed from her eyes and made him smile.

  Just as he steered Becca away, he turned and winked. “Be back in ten, sweetheart.”

  When he returned with Becca, Meg was French braiding one of the girls’ hair. All of the girls, including Meg, had on red bandanas tied like do-rags, and her hair was braided, too. Slashes of mud lined their cheeks. They were chanting “We’re gonna whup their butts” as Meg handed him a red bandana of his own.

  He tied it motorcycle-dude style on his head, knotting it in the back, and pulled Meg to the side. “You know that little girl’s really had it tough.”

  “I know she lost her mom and developed diabetes all in the same year.”

  She probably would know that if she’d dated her dad. “We may have to help her a little though the course. You know, to build her confidence.”

  Meg gave him a bright smile and a thumbs-up. “No problem. I just hope you don’t end up having to help me, too.”

  His gaze slid over her body, from her fresh-faced smile to her simple camp T-shirt and cargo shorts down to her bare tanned legs and her tennies. “Honey, any time you need help, I’m your man.” He imagined cradling her fabulous ass as she scaled the wall, or zigzagging with her around the logs before he pulled her down into the sweet, warm grass and helped her with something completely different.

  They did an all-hands-in cheer with the kids and took their places at the starting line.

  One of the counselors shot off a popgun. Ben ran with the first little girl, standing guard at the cargo net wall, but she scaled it with no problem. Meg ran with Becca, who paused fearfully at the ropes.

  “We’ll do this together, okay? I’ll be right behind you,” Meg said.

  “And I’ll be right behind you,” Ben echoed, grinning when Meg caught him looking at her ass. “Just in case.”

  “She’s gonna make us lose,” a little red-haired girl said, pointing to Becca.

  “She’s a scaredy-cat,” a tall girl said. “And the boys are gonna beat us.” Sure enough, the boys were hurling over the top of their wall as easily as a team of Navy Seals.

  “Hey, Team Girl, what about working together?” Ben said. “How about that team cheer again?”

  “Don’t listen to those girls, Beck,” Meg said, surrounding the little girl with her own body on the wall. “You can’t fall. I’ve got you.”

  “Too scared,” Becca managed.

  “I have an idea,” Ben said to Meg. “Why don’t you let me cover her from down here while you climb up to the top to help her over?”

  He coached Becca basically by telling her exactly where to put her hands and feet as she inched her way up the cargo ropes, while he scaled the ropes behind her.

  Meg clawed her way around Becca and scaled up the ropes in an awkward but determined manner. The view of her from below floored him, those long miles of leg and that sweet, sweet ass. “Holy Mother of Pearl,” he said under his breath.

  She straddled the top of the wall, stretched out with her arm extended toward Becca, and looked down at him. “If you make one crack about the size of my . . .” She used her brows to pointedly convey the rest without words.

  So maybe that wasn’t as under his breath as he thought. Her rear end was fine, firm and rounded, and he just couldn’t help himself. As he followed Becca to the top of the wall, he whispered in Meg’s ear, “You—have a tattoo.”

  A tiny, little peek of one, just over her right hip. It took the willpower of a saint not to inch down the waistband of her shorts and look. He wanted to touch it. Trace it. And possibly lick it.

  She stared down at him, her cheek against the wall, fingers clutching the rope, arms braced to help the little girl. “Lots of people do.”

  Yeah, but her? But then, during every interaction they’d had, she’d continually surprised him. He swallowed hard. “What is it?”

  “None of your business.”

  He skimmed his hand under her shirt and rubbed the spot where he’d seen the tiny peek of ink.

  “A flower? A heart? A butterfly?”

  “You’ll never know.” She lowered her voice. “And please keep your hands to yourself.”

  He threw up his hands in defense. “Hey, just trying to help.”

  When Becca managed to haul her legs over the top of the wall, her look was one of triumph. Meg watched her crawl down the rope on the other side all by herself. Ben put his hand up toward Meg in a high-five, and when she extended her own to reach his, he intertwined their fingers.

  “Nice job.”

  She smiled. Probably her first smile of the day without sarcasm, and it was brilliant, even through the mud streaks and the badass do-rag. Something inside his chest flipped over like a pancake and he quickly dropped his hand.

  “A bird, then.” He paused. “I’ve got it! My initials.”

  “Keep dreaming, buddy,” Meg said with a grin.

  After she dropped down the other side of the cargo rope, she zigzagged along the scattered logs with the kids, laughing and encouraging them and cheering them on as they ran up and down the gravel mountain. Even with her natural reserve, she had a bighearted personality that was way too appealing.

  The last challenge was to swing over a muddy moat with a rope. The other kids had no trouble using the rope to get over the mud bath, but Rebecca’s eyes went wide. “I can’t do it.”

  Meg bent down until she was eye level with the little girl. “This is our last challenge. We can’t quit now.”

  Her lower lip quivered.

  “She can walk around the mud course,” Ben offered.

  One of the other little girls who’d already made it over to the other side called out to him, complaining that she’d twisted her ankle.

  “You okay here?” he asked Meg.

  “I can handle it,” she said, and he ran around the mud pit to investigate.

  A minute later, as he was checking out the girl’s ankle, another little girl tapped him on the shoulder. “Meg’s swinging over with Becca.”

  He stood up immediately. A muffled don’t! stuck in his throat, too late to do any good.

  Becca clung onto Meg, who basically had to support her weight and Becca’s across the moat. Meg pushed them off weakly, their combined weights too much for her petite frame. Becca made it to dry land. Meg did not.

  She landed hard in the mud on her ass. All the kids raced to the edge of the moat, laughing and tittering. Even Becca, that little traitor, doubled over in laughter. Meg did her best to smile, even teasingly scolding a kid who’d taken out his phone by saying, “That better not end up on Facebook, Eric!” But Ben recognized by the wateriness in her eyes and the clench of her jaw that she was in pain.

  He ran down a few steps of the bank and extended his hand.

  “When you smile, your teeth are so white against all that muck,” he said. “You all right?”

  “I know I have some great padding on my ass, but it hurts like hell,” she said in a low voice so the kids couldn’t hear. “Is it possible to break your butt bone?”

  “You may have bruised your coccyx,” he said. “Can you stand up?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  When he reached down to pull her up, she resisted. A saucy grin lit up her face as she used all her weight to try to pull him down with her.

  “You’re evil,” he said, easi
ly resisting her ploy to get him muddy. The kids began cheering on the sidelines.

  She tugged. Pulled. Used both hands and heaved.

  He laughed. “Done yet?”

  She ignored him, turning instead to the enraptured crowd.

  “I’m sorry, kids. It was wrong of me to try and get Dr. Rushford all muddy . . . unless you all help me!”

  Kids tumbled down the incline, working together to push Ben farther into the thick, cool ooze. But he got them all back by slinging mud, and soon they were all covered up to their necks, whooping and yelling and letting all hell break loose.

  “Okay,” he said once things calmed down a little. “Time to hose off before dinner.”

  “Hose off?” Meg looked horrified.

  “We can’t let the kids go back to their cabins like this.”

  Ben used a hose that ran from a nearby horse barn. One by one, he washed off the screaming kids, who finally left with their counselors to take real showers.

  Ben stood with the hose in his hand, tapping it cautiously in his palm. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he said.

  “You can stop gloating now,” she groused from under a tree, where she sat leaning up against its trunk, trying not to put weight on her butt.

  “Bet your tailbone smarts something awful after that stunt,” he sympathized.

  “Bet you got high marks in your empathy classes in med school, didn’t you? You’re relishing your victory way too much.”

  “Let’s just say there’s a time to empathize and a time for payback.”

  He turned the hose on her, getting close enough to spray most of the mud off as she cried out from the cold. Then just to torment her, he trained the spray up her shirt. She grabbed the hose and turned it on him.

  “I’ve had enough power washing, thanks,” she said, pushing back her streaming wet hair. “Your turn.”

  She gave it all she had, but he came forward through the spray as easily as if it were a squirt gun stream.

  “Bet it hurts like hell to walk, huh?” he asked.

  She nodded. His lucky day. He scooped her up and carried her across the field, trying not to think of her skin, wet and smooth beneath his fingertips, water drops glistening in the bright sunshine. Or her dark hair, sleeked down with water, and her washed-off face, scrubbed free of mud and makeup. Or the prickling awareness he felt as she quietly assessed him, her hands gently gathered around his neck for balance.