by Reese Ryan
“I’m starving, Marcellus. Can’t you smuggle something in here?”
Sloane had discovered, in the weeks since he’d worked for them, that the mostly quiet man was a culinary genius and a gentle giant. He was built like a linebacker but wore his weight well.
“Benji would kill me.” His kind smile always warmed her, mostly because of its rarity. Marcellus’s expression seldom revealed emotion. “You’ll be asleep in a few hours. Then tomorrow you can eat whatever you’d like.”
“You’re lucky I’m hooked to this IV. Otherwise, I’d try to turn you upside down until a piece of that beef jerky you’ve always got stashed on you shakes loose.”
Now the man chuckled, a deep rumble that filled the room. She was pretty sure it was the first time she’d ever heard Marcellus laugh.
“Guilty.” He patted his breast pocket and smiled. “But the doc says no food for you tonight, so guess what? No food for you tonight. I promise to make up for it once you’re cleared to eat again and you and the babies are safe and sound. And you will be, because everything is going to be fine. Okay?”
Sloane nodded, rubbing her belly. She was glad to feel Bailey and Beau moving more than they had been during the preterm contractions.
“Thank you for bringing me here, but I’m sure you have other clients you’re supposed to be taking care of today. I don’t want to keep you from whatever you had planned. I’m in good hands with Dr. Miller, I promise.”
“I’m not leaving here until Benji or your mom arrive.” Marcellus’s stony expression had returned, though his eyes twinkled.
“I’m here.” Benji rushed into the room and went directly to her bedside. He clutched her free hand and clasped it between both of his. “Is everything okay? Are you all right? Are the babies?”
Sloane explained everything as the doctor had explained it to her. They were trying to stop her early labor so she could get as close as possible to bringing the twins to term. But they were preparing the baby’s lungs, just in case.
Benji thanked Marcellus profusely. Once the chef was gone, Benji sat beside the bed. He held her hand in one of his, the other gently pressed to her abdomen.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Something about the sincerity with which he asked the question crumbled the walls of bravado she’d erected.
“No, I’m terrified.” She wiped away tears. “If anything happens to them—”
“It won’t. I promise.” He kissed her hand.
It was a promise he had no power to keep, but she appreciated his confidence in making it just the same.
Somewhere along the way she’d come to need him. Not because of what he could do for them, but because of quiet moments like this.
Benji was here, and everything was going to be all right. That was enough for now.
* * *
Benji checked the calendar. Sloane’s preterm scare had been three weeks ago. Since coming home, she’d been on complete bed rest.
He’d convinced her to sleep in his room so he could monitor her at night. Sex wasn’t an option while she was on bed rest, so it seemed to relieve her of any anxiety about spending the entire night in his bed.
They’d read, watched TV and chatted every night until she finally drifted off to sleep. He’d held her in his arms and rubbed her belly. He’d felt the twins growing stronger as they moved inside her.
Nothing would’ve convinced him that he’d be this man, doting over two unborn babies and falling harder and deeper for the woman carrying them.
He cradled Sloane to him. The scare they had a few weeks before had turned him inside out.
What if something had happened to her or to either of the twins?
Neither he nor Sloane had planned this, but she’d been the only woman he’d ever really wanted. He’d known that since he was ten years old. Now that he had her back in his life again and they’d been given this incredible gift, he wouldn’t squander the opportunity. He’d do whatever it took to convince her that they should be together, if only for the sake of the twins.
A gush of wetness spread beneath him and Sloane awakened with a gasp.
“Oh, my God. My water just broke. It’s happening. We’re going to have the babies.”
His heart raced and panic gripped his chest, but she needed him to be her strength. She and the twins were counting on him.
Benji kissed her ear and squeezed her tight. “It’s okay, baby. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”
It was a promise he kept. Twelve hours later he held Bailey and Beaumont Bennett in his arms.
Six
Sloane was hungry and exhausted. She’d never done anything harder than giving birth to the twins. But as she watched Benji standing by the window, rocking their son in his arms and telling him how glad he was to finally meet him and his sister, it was worth every single moment of pain, exhaustion and terror.
There had been a moment, after she’d delivered Beau, when she’d thought she wouldn’t make it. That she couldn’t hang on a minute longer. She was in pain and terrified as the doctor reached in and tried to turn Bailey so she’d come out headfirst. Benji had been there, had kissed her and held her hand. He’d whispered in her ear that she was stronger than any woman he’d ever met and assured her she could do this.
“Just hang on a little longer,” he’d told her, “and you’ll be able to meet our daughter.”
He’d breathed with her through the pain. Encouraged her to push once it was time again. Praised her once she’d safely delivered Bailey, too.
She held her daughter, inhaling her sweet scent as she kissed her little forehead. Then she glanced lovingly at the father of the two incredible miniature human beings she’d just given birth to.
Now Benji was rocking Beau, who’d gotten a bit fussy, and singing “Hush Little Baby” in the same deep, throaty, hypnotic drawl that had captivated her the night they’d made the twins.
Her eyes burned with tears, and an involuntary smiled tightened her cheeks. This man was beautiful and sweet. Loving and generous.
Benji still embodied the essential heart-melting qualities she’d loved about him when she’d known him as the sweet kid who was her best friend’s little brother. Now, though, there were the new and unfamiliar elements of Benjamin Bennett, the fine, grown-ass man she couldn’t seem to get enough of.
As she watched Benji softly singing to their son, her heart felt as if it would burst. There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms, holding their beautiful twins. Another part of her feared what would happen once the glow wore off and they were just two people struggling to raise demanding infants.
There was an old, floral photo album in her mother’s cabinet with a picture of her father, holding her in his arms and smiling as if he were the proudest father in the history of Magnolia Lake. Yet, her memories of him were of a man who resented her, a man who’d had no interest in being a father and a husband.
She wouldn’t put Benji in that position, wouldn’t take a chance on waking up one morning and seeing that kind of bitterness in his eyes.
“He’s finally gone back to sleep.” Benji grinned proudly as he returned Beau to the clear acrylic bassinet marked Bennett, Beaumont. “How’s our girl?” He nodded toward Bailey, dozing in Sloane’s arms.
“I fed and burped her, and she just fell asleep.” She handed the baby to Benji, and he tenderly kissed the infant’s cheek before laying her in her own designated bassinet.
Benji sat in the chair beside Sloane’s bed and squeezed her hand. “You were amazing today. What you did... God, I’ll never make the mistake of thinking that men are the stronger sex.”
“Thank you for being here.” She kept her gaze on their joined hands, afraid of getting lost in his deep brown eyes. “I couldn’t imagine trying to do this without you.” She finally met his gaze. �
�You were pretty amazing today, too.”
Benji cradled her cheek and smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Enough of that, you two. That’s how you ended up with these two gorgeous babies in the first place.” Abigail Sutton swept into the room, a big grin on her face.
She’d been at the hospital earlier, but she’d had to leave to take Sloane’s grandfather to a cardiologist appointment.
“Hey, Mama.” Sloane lay back on the pillow, reluctantly pulling away from Benji’s touch. “How’d Granddad’s appointment go?”
“The cantankerous old thing will probably outlive all of us.” She kissed Sloane on the forehead, then crossed the room to give Benji a hug. “He wanted to be here, but after the drive there and back, he was tuckered out.”
Her mother was a terrible liar, but Sloane appreciated the effort. Sloane still couldn’t shake the look of disappointment on Atticus Ames’s face when she’d returned to Magnolia Lake to tell them about her pregnancy. He wasn’t happy that she’d unwittingly followed her mother’s path. Learning that Benji Bennett was the father had only solidified that stance.
She’d given up trying to please the old man a long time ago. Still, his abject disappointment hurt.
“The twins are sleeping,” her mother complained, taking a seat on the sofa near the window. “I was hoping to hold them.”
“Go right ahead,” Benji said, just as Sloane was going to ask her to let them be. He winked at her. “Your mother came a long way to see the twins. I don’t think it will hurt for her to hold them for a bit.”
Sloane sighed and gave a reluctant nod.
Her mother moved to the sink and washed her hands up to her elbows before standing over the sleeping infants in their bassinets, trying to decide which one to pick up first.
“How about if Grandma visits with you first?” She carefully lifted Bailey from her bed and cradled her in her arms.
The girl made only the slightest indication of being perturbed by the move before falling back asleep.
“She’s beautiful. The spitting image of you as a newborn.” Abigail Sutton beamed as she held little Bailey in her arms.
“Really? I’d love to see Sloane’s baby pictures.” Benji grinned, obviously amused by the prospect.
“Please don’t trot those out.” Sloane groaned. “We’ll take your word for it.”
“Not me.” Benji chuckled. “I need to see proof.”
Sloane shifted the pillow behind her back as her mother started to coo at her brand-new granddaughter, quickly getting lost in a baby-talk conversation with the sleeping infant.
Sloane lowered her voice and leaned closer to Benji. “That reminds me... I know you said that you trust me, and I appreciate that, but I won’t object to a paternity test to prove that the twins are yours.”
He shifted his glance to where Abby sat, oblivious to their conversation as she cooed at her granddaughter. His smile hardened into a straight line, but he didn’t respond.
“It’s okay.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I realize that you need to do this for your own peace of mind and to settle any doubts your mother and Delia have.”
The mention of his mother and sister elicited a deep frown that marred his handsome face.
God, Beau looked so much like him. Same mesmerizing brown eyes and strong chin.
“No.” His tone conveyed absolute conviction, but something in his tortured expression belied the certainty in his voice. “What my mother and Delia believe or don’t is their problem. We don’t need to prove anything to them.”
“But if it would ease their minds and erase any doubt, why not?”
“Because I don’t need it. I know Beau and Bailey are mine. I could feel it the instant I looked into their eyes.” He looked back at her. “Data and numbers are essential to my work, but the reason I’ve been successful is because I always trust my gut.” He patted his stomach. “I know the truth in here. I trust that feeling. And I trust you. I only wish you’d do the same.”
“I’m trying.” Sloane turned her attention to her hands, perched on her still-swollen belly. “I really am.”
“That’s all I ask.” He squeezed her leg, then stood, turning to her mother. “I’m going to get a real cup of coffee. I don’t think I can tolerate another drop of that dreck from the cafeteria. Can I get you anything, Ms. Sutton?”
“We’re family now,” her mother said, returning Bailey to her bassinet and moving toward Beau’s. “Call me Abby. And yes, I’d love a cup of coffee. Nothing fancy. Just black with a couple of packets of sugar.”
“Yes, ma’am... I mean...yes, Abby.” He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Sloane’s forehead, as if he was a nervous teenage boy pinning a corsage on her chest on prom night beneath the watchful eye of her gun-toting grandfather.
He was adorable.
Benji pressed a quick kiss to the forehead of his infant son, lying in Abby’s arms, and then left.
“I can’t believe that handsome man was once little Benji Bennett.” Her mother grinned, sitting beside her and rocking Beau, already sleeping, in her arms. “And I can’t believe you’re not trying to get him to marry you. He’s obviously fond enough of you, he adores these babies and he can give you anything you’d ever want.”
Was that what her mother wanted for her? To be with a man who was simply “fond enough” of her? Both she and her mother had married men who were “fond enough” of them, though they’d married for very different reasons.
She’d run off to Nashville with Allen Dickson not long after her eighteenth birthday. He was a session musician who played electric guitar like he’d been born with the thing in his hands. They’d bonded over their common interests—escaping their dysfunctional families, finding careers in the music industry and putting Magnolia Lake firmly in their rearview mirror.
Once those shared grievances were stripped away, there was little substance to their relationship, and they wanted different things from life. Allen had wanted to settle down and start a family. But what he’d really meant was that she’d settle down and raise the kids while he spent the majority of the year on the road, touring the world with one musician or another.
Eventually, her marriage to Allen had ended, like her parents’ had. It was a mistake she wouldn’t repeat, especially now that she had Beau and Bailey to think about.
“We both know better than most that marrying a man for money isn’t the smart move.” Guilt tugged at Sloane when her mother’s expression deflated. She shook her head. “Sorry, Mama. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just really tired. Maybe now isn’t the best time to discuss this.”
“Maybe not.” Abby Sutton nodded once and turned her attention back to her sleeping grandson. “But there is one thing I want to say... Benji ain’t nothin’ like your daddy. He’s a sweet boy, and he clearly loves Beau and Bailey.”
“I know, Mama.” Sloane was tired, and she just wanted to sleep. “But it’s just not that simple.”
* * *
We both know better than most that marrying a man for money isn’t the smart move.
Benji had gone back to Sloane’s room to ask if she’d like him to bring her some real food. Now the words he’d overheard played in his head again and again as he made his way to the parking garage.
After all they’d been through—their history together, the last months of her pregnancy and the birth of their precious twins—was that all she saw in him? That he was a man with money?
Supporting Sloane through the delivery and witnessing the birth of their children was the most amazing experience of his life. He’d been left with a profound connection to her. He thought she’d felt the same. Was he simply seeing what he wanted?
Benji left the hospital, picked up coffee for himself and Abby, then grabbed some food.
He obviously hadn’t convinced Sloane that she and the
twins were his family as much as his parents and sister were. Not wanting to pressure her, he’d been too subtle, too laid-back.
Time for a bolder approach.
He pressed the voice-command button in his vehicle. “Dial Kamilla Price.”
* * *
When Benji returned to the room, Abby was holding Bailey again, who’d awakened in his absence. Sloane was breastfeeding Beau. The pained look on her face indicated that the process wasn’t going well.
“Everything okay?” he asked her as he set Abby’s cup of coffee on the table beside her. She thanked him.
“Other than the fact that I’m questioning whether this one was born with teeth—” she nodded toward Beau in her arms “—everything is good.” She sniffed the air and looked at him hopefully. “Please tell me that’s a Kick-Back Burger and Rocky Top Potato Skins from Calhoun’s.”
He lifted the grease-stained bag with a slight grin. “What else?”
“Thank God. It wasn’t the epidural that made me queasy, it was that food they were trying to pass off as edible,” she grumbled. Then she grimaced in pain. “Ouch, ouch, ouch. Take it easy, Little One. Mama’s gonna need those when you’re done.”
Benji’s face flushed with heat. He cleared his throat. “I’ll save it for when you’re done.” He avoided the chair beside the bed and sat next to Abby on the sofa instead. “Got something for you, too, Abby. I guessed, so I hope you like it.”
“That’s mighty thoughtful of you, Benji. I’m grateful for whatever you brought. I’m not picky, so I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
He nodded, glancing at Sloane and Beau, hoping everything would be just fine.
Seven
In the week that Sloane had been in the hospital with the twins, Benji’s Range Rover SVAutobiography had arrived from Seattle. As they drove the final stretch of road home from the hospital, she looked over her shoulder in the baby mirrors perched over each twin in the back seat. They were both still asleep. Good.
Maybe she could get in a long nap before they both woke up hungry. Breastfeeding was a struggle, but Benji had been encouraging. He’d even hired a lactation consultant, which she honestly hadn’t known was a thing. The nurse and mother of four—including a set of twins—had shown her how to breastfeed the twins simultaneously using a double football hold and a twin nursing pillow. Sloane was still less than confident.
