Page 43 of I Do With You

“Wait.”

He freezes instantly, leaving the sounds of loud music and scent of cheap beer on the other side of the closed door. His dark eyes scan my face as he steps into my space, our chests less than a breath apart.

There’s no pressure. He’ll open the door, go inside with me, and have a few beers, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I can sweet-talk him into dancing with me. But Ben would be equally fine escorting me back to the car and heading home to the trailer. It’s my call, and he’ll support my choice either way.

I don’t mull over the options. I’ve already decided, I just need a second to prepare myself. Sitting around the campfire with touristsfrom out of town is one thing. Walking into Chuck’s is the equivalent of standing on the little stage at the city council meeting and announcing into the microphone that I’m on a Date, with a big ol’ capitalDthat may or may not meandick. With a man who’s not my one and only high school sweetheart, who I almost married a few days ago.

Deputy West might’ve thrown a match, but walking into the bar is tossing kerosene on the fire. So I give the flames a good metaphorical squirt of the accelerant and puff out my chest with more certainty than I feel, faking it till I make it. “Let’s do it.”

Ben’s lips lift in a tiny smile. “Good girl. You’ve got this.”

Oooh, those words of praise do something to me.

But he takes it one step further, bending down to murmur in my ear, “And do you know how fucking sexy you look when you’re being all strong and confident?”

As the door opens, the heat burning my cheeks has nothing to do with the body heat coming from inside the bar. Nope, that’s all Ben’s doing.

He guides me inside, and though there’s no record scratch and no simultaneous whoosh of every head in the place whipping our direction, it definitely gets quieter as eyes all over the room find us. They track us as we walk toward an empty booth, stalk us as we sit down side by side, and monitor everything we’re doing.

For the record, we’re talking. That’s it, though I’m sure the Maple Creek newspaper will allude to something much more scandalous if they report my official reappearance after running away. Like,Gasp! The stranger had his arm thrown around Hope’s shoulders, and they were definitely canoodling. Again, for the record, Ben’s arm is on the back of the booth, and we’re sitting thigh to thigh. It’s not like I’m in his lap with my tongue down his throat, though that sounds like an intriguing idea. I would certainly enjoy it, and goodness knows, the always-gossipy Pamela Barnes would likely appreciate actually having something interesting to write about in her Maple Creek column instead of reporting on Mayor Haven’s appearance at another city hall meeting.

“You’re doing great,” Ben reassures me.

“So are you,” I tell him. He cuts his eyes toward me, taking a break from scanning the room. “There’s a lot of people here and a lot of eyes on us. I know how much youlovethat.”

He nods, agreeing with me. On the number of people or his dislike for them? I’m not sure. Probably both.

“Hello, Hope.” The waitress, a girl named Brooklin who was a couple of years ahead of me in school, sidles up to the table. Rather than her usual customer service voice, her greeting is laced with more venom than I expected. Guess I can put her in the Team Roy column. “What do you want?”

“Can we get two drafts? Whatever’s on special is fine,” I tell her, not giving any mind to her piss-poor attitude. Tonight’s about me and Ben having a good time, not what everyone else thinks I should or shouldn’t be doing.

Her smile is faker than spray cheese in a can, and when she turns to leave, it’s instantly replaced with a bitchy sneer that curls her glossy lip. She finishes the Mean Girl act with a flip of her dark curls and an eye roll she makes sure I see, as well as everyone else.

“Friend of yours, I take it?” Ben teases, running his nose along the shell of my ear. I can hear his evil smile in his voice. “Wanna give her something to really be upset about?”

I hum, thinking that actually might be a great idea. But we did just get here, so maybe we should hold off on the make-out sesh until I have at least one beer’s worth of plausible deniability in me. “We’ve never had issues before, but obviously not. Probably gonna be a lot of those discoveries tonight.”

“What’re we discovering? Our wild sides?” Joy echoes, sliding into the booth across from me and wiggling her fingers like she’s casting some magic spell.

I texted her and Shepherd as soon as I came up with this night-out plan, asking them to come. Joy because she’s my best friend, Shep because he and Ben already pregamed some chatter about teaming upagainst Roy, so if push comes to shove, I figured they’d have each other’s back. I’m venturing out, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Roy’s got friends in this town, and Deputy West isn’t the only officer on Sheriff Laurier’s squad. Others might not be as gracious.

Shep winces as he firmly states, “My sisters do not have wild sides. They’re virginal angels with tendencies toward being Goody Two-shoes.”

Joy and I lock eyes. Three, two, one ... We burst out laughing. “Shepherd, if you believe that, I’ve got some oceanfront property to sell you—in the Sahara,” Joy offers. “I’ve got at leastfifty shadesof wild sides that you don’t know about.”

“Gahhh!” Shep replies in mental anguish, and even Ben laughs at my brother for that one.

“We might not be as bad as you, and I might not be as bad as Joy, but would a Goody Two-shoes run away from her wedding?” I add, laughing at his assumption. Admittedly, I’ve been as boring as toasted white bread for most of my life. But that’s changing. And even as bland as I’ve been, I’m not a virgin, nor an angel, especially given the thoughts I’ve been having lately about Ben.

Like him kissing me again. My lips, my neck, my breasts, my thighs, my clit. Oh God! Something tells me he would be great at kissing that particular sensitive spot. It’s something Royneverdid. Even imagining it sends heat pooling low, and I clench my thighs, looking for some relief.

Whoo, they need to turn the air-conditioning on in here!

Shep shakes his head, sulking. “Fine, you don’t have to be that innocent, but I don’t want to hear about it. La-la-la ...” He puts his fingers in his ears and squinches his eyes closed like he’s five.

Joy snorts. “Glad to know we have your permission to whore it up, big brother. As if I needed it in the first place.”

My brother groans when she sayswhoreas if it actually pains him, and I can’t help but laugh. It feels good to banter and chat like this, like my current situation isn’t a TV soap opera script.

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