Page 78 of Just a Plot Twist
This looks a whole lot like what the future could be. Because this time in my mind’s eye? The only person I imagine with the kids and me is Claire.
Chapter 25
Claire
It’s been nineteen hours since I’ve been with Benson, when he walked me to my car outside of his place.
And I’ve thought of him at least once every single one of those nineteen hours.
Yes, I dreamt of him last night, repeatedly, so I’m not exaggerating much. I’m on my way to see him now, and the steering wheel I’m tightly gripping is my anchor.
His kids are amazing, and the dog, the one he pretends not to like, is charming.
Benson is in my blood, the image and essence of him pulsing through my system. I can’t get enough of the dark eyes, the thick hair, the tremor of hope I feel when I’m beside him.
I wanted him to kiss me at my car door last night. I melded to him, body, mind and soul. That our lips would find each other felt inevitable.
Except, when he wrapped his arms around me, my heartbeat against his chest, there was a formalness about him, like he was holding something back. It took me a moment to figure it out, and I’m pretty sure I have.
The kids had just gotten settled in their rooms, which are both on the second floor overlooking the parking lot.
We couldn’t kiss. I’m not kissing Benson for the first time when there’s the possibility of inquiring eyes peering out of a window. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.
It’s like he’s still embracing me now, though, giving me blips of nerves—of fizzy, giddy excitement.
I shoot out a breath and steel myself as the Tate International resort comes in to view ahead of me. I feel my face hardening in resolve as I pull up. I’m trying, and mostly failing, to be open to whatever this is. As much as I shouldn’t get involved with him, here I am, driving up to seal my fate.
Because I do have feelings for Benson. Strong ones. There’s no going back if we kiss. It goes without saying: Kissing is a big deal to me—dating is a big deal.
So saying yes to seeing him again tonight? Big, colossal deal. Last night was all about attending a party for work and then gathering and taking care of his kids. We were together, but not exactlytogether. Tonight, he and the kids and I are going to hang out at the resort.
So, it’s still not a date in the classic sense because we’ll have the kids there. I’m glad about that, though, because there’s a certain light in his eyes when Dax and Indie are around.
And because sometimes it’s easier to have a buffer between me and my feelings for Benson.
Benson’s brother, Alec, former NFL running back for the San Antonio Wolves, has a whole complex of recreational activities set up at the resort. He asked Benson to bring his kids over for a complimentary stay to try out the new amenities, for their pre-teen and teen approval.
So yeah, I agreed when Benson invited me to join them just for the evening. It’s all good. The kids will be around the whole time, and they’ll help me keep my wits about me.
“Thanks for coming,” Benson says, pulling me into a hug in the hall and I’m instantly back in that place where I was last night, of hovering so close to falling irretrievably for this man.
His embrace is warm. I want to slide the pads of my fingers across his cheek bones. I want to stare into his dark, dark eyes. There’s something about us that feels natural together. Besides, his blue, subtly Hawaiian button-down and board shorts go well with my casual white dress that is doubling as a bathing suit cover.
Yes, apparently, there will be boating later. Tate International has a new powerboat that guests can rent that needs some working in. But first, Alec’s big project: the recreational complex.
“I was excited that you asked,” I finally say, after I’ve sufficiently recovered from the hug.
This is bad. I can’t even hug the man without my whole being responding to him.
We walk up the paved trail to a short rise above the lake and to the north of the resort.
“Can your ankle handle this?” he asks, his eyes on my legs. A zip of excitement goes from my head to my feet and back up again.
I saw that, Benson. Maybe asking about my ankle was an excuse to check out my legs.
“If I take it slow, I’m good,” I say.
“That’s why you’re here in an observatory capacity. You don’t have to do any of the activities if you’re not up to it.”
