Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Fuck.” He snatches the shorts from my hand, conceding this time, and I do a little victory dance, pumping my fists in the air and stomping my feet as I turn in a circle. “Don’t celebrate too hard. You picked for me, so I’m picking for you.”
“Wha—” I balk. “That’s not . . . Nuh-uh.”
Ben arches a sharp brow my way. “Yes or no?”
He’s giving me a choice, an important distinction for a woman who has been going along with what everyone else wants. No, not everyone—Roy. But I can’t blame it all on him. I’m equally to blame, and should’ve listened to what my gut was screaming at me sooner.
Do it! Do it! Do it!
I’m not sure if it’s a devil on my shoulder or just Joy cheering me on. But I decide to listen either way.
I roll my eyes, lifting a shoulder like this is no big deal. “Fine.” I don’t think there’s anything too wild anyway. A bikini? I’ve worn those roughly a bajillion times. I even special ordered a teeny-tiny one for my honeymoon, so anything in this store will be perfectly reasonable.
Ben scours the racks, teasingly holding up everything from knee-length skirted numbers to ones that basically amount to a collection of spandex strings, measuring them all against my body like he’s picturing me in each one.
I pose sassily with a hot-pink two-piece, one hand on my hip and my head tilted jauntily. “This one? It matches your flamingos.”
Ben stares at me for a long moment, his eyes dripping over the suit. Over me. The silly fun we’ve been having evaporates, leaving something else that’s entirely unexpected, something heated that steals my breath away. I swear I can feel his gaze on my skin like an actual physical touch, especially when it lingers over my breasts and explores every inch of my bare legs.
His voice rough, Ben growls, “The blue one’s fine.” He jerks his chin toward the one-piece I originally selected and then spins around, giving me his back.
What just happened?
I’m not sure, but I follow Ben, who seems to be running to the register or away from me. Or both. The girl—Maddie, according to her name tag—scowls at me. “Who’s this, Hope?” she asks as she looks Ben up and down, her nose crinkled and lips twisted in a sneer as though he smells like rotten catfish bait.
“Family friend,” Ben answers for me, leaning down so he’s eye level with Maddie. “You got a problem with that?” His jaw is clenched, his eyes stone cold, and his entire demeanor has gone fuck around and find out. It’s like the many faces of Ben Taylor: there’s the helpful, friendly, nice guy; the silly, fun jokester; the no-nonsense defender; and then the full-on monster. I’m not sure which one I like best, because he always seems to use them for my benefit.
“Oh, uh . . . I haven’t seen you before. Thought maybe you were a tourist or something,” Maddie says, making tourist sound like the equivalent to shit on my shoe.
Maple Creek has a long-standing and complicated relationship with tourists. We need them to survive. Visitors are the bread and butter that keep the town and many of our businesses afloat. But they also tend to come in and take over, thinking they’re special and that locals are here to be at their beck and call. So some people—like Maddie, apparently—prejudge and shoot themselves in the foot.
“Mm-hmm,” Ben hums, still glaring coldly at Maddie.
Choosing to bypass the big, scary adversary, she turns her attention back to me, adopting a conspiratorial tone like we’re long-lost besties. “What happened with you and Roy, girl? It’s true you’re pregnant, isn’t it? You can totally tell. But is it really someone else’s baby and not Roy’s?” She looks like she’s ready to hear the juiciest, freshest gossip she’s ever had the chance to spread.
“What? No!” I screech, garnering the attention of the few other shoppers in the store. Patting my flat belly, I snap loud enough for them all to hear, “Not pregnant. Why does everyone think that? And definitely not with someone else’s baby!”
Maddie tilts her head, obviously not believing one word of that. “Suuure. If you say so.”
Ben holds up the two suits between me and the counter because there’s a very real chance I might go over it and show Maddie just how not-pregnant I am . . . with a fist to her jaw. Shepherd taught me how, so I know how to throw a solid hook even if I’ve never actually hit anything worse than one of his hockey gloves held up as a target.
“We’re taking these. Here ya go.” He throws a bill on the counter and wraps his hand around my upper arm, essentially holding me back and guiding me away. “Let’s go swimming, Hope. Yeah?”