Chapter 6
Wild Ones Tip #129
A surprised Wild One is always a wildcard.
Carry a helmet and condom just in case—you never know which one you’ll need.
LILAH
I drive back to Benson’s house, warily scouring my surroundings. I keep expecting my brothers to pop out at any minute.
Maybe they’re still warming up.
I pull up to his house, still half expecting the two revenge seekers to hop out with scissors and cut my hair off.
When nothing happens, I bang on the back door. Or front door. I’m not really sure which is the back or front, considering the lake is used more in the summer than the roads, in Benson’s case.
“Give me a second,” I hear Benson calling out from above me. “I just got out of the shower.”
Don’t think dirty thoughts. Don’t think dirty thoughts.
I look up, but I can’t see the second floor because of the porch roof.
“Why’d you lock the doors?” I ask.
“Your brothers.”
Ah. Gotcha.
“I was wondering where you went,” he calls down.
“Sorry. Figured I’d better grab some clothes before those two thawed and came after me. Then went to town, since I had to drive around. We should have taken two boats this morning.”
He grows quiet, and I wonder where he is, until the door suddenly swings open in front of me, and three things happen at once.
My mouth dries.
My heart tries to kick out of my chest.
My entire body takes notice of the fact I’m definitely a woman.
I eye the man before me, taking in the towel on his bare shoulder. My gaze shamelessly rakes over all the contours and outlines of the hard body he’s been hiding away.
Abs. Benson Nolans has abs. Six of them, to be exact.
Those fancy sweats are hanging off his hips, revealing the all-too-mouthwatering V that disappears behind the waistband, teasing me with what lies at the end.
My eyes snap up, and that’s when I see a man too sexy to be natural. Benson Nolans has a face my vagina wants to get to know.
Gone is the wiry, unkempt, bushy beard. In its place is an intentional, trimmed and neat beard that outlines a strong, masculine jaw. His nose even looks sexier.
His light tan is a little warped, but I’m totally able to overlook that, because…dayum.
His lips etch up in a smirk—and panties all over Tomahawk explode in the distance. I never realized how expressive and cocky this man is. Because it’s all been hidden under a mound of hair.
Slowly, I take a step back, glance around at all my surroundings, then look back at him as he arches a questioning eyebrow at me. Even that is easier to see, because he apparently got a nice new haircut too.
“Benson?” I ask, confused, hoping it’s not really him.
Because I’m in a lot of trouble if it is.
His smile forms, and yeah; I struggle to breathe. Why would you ever cover up that smile?
“I can’t possibly look that different,” he says, though he has to know he’s full of shit.
His hair is shorter—sexier. Even though it’s messy, it looks intentionally messy, and I really want to run my fingers through those dark strands.
“Oh yeah. You can look a lot different.”
Those same chocolate eyes as always are staring at me, and his voice is still as velvety smooth as ever. I once thought that maybe he was a phone sex operator and that’s why he keeps his money-earning ways a secret.
“You coming in or staring at me all night.”
Normally I’d make a smartass reply. Tonight? I blush.
I hate this new turn of events. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten rid of the beards, because my life is now officially complicated.
Benson isn’t a hit-and-run type of guy. No, I don’t do that often. In fact, I’ve been with a total of four men. Some of those guys were almost boyfriends.
Benson locks the door behind him, and he walks in front of me when my feet hesitate to move. I practically drool over his back that is just as sexy as his front.
“You want to watch a movie or something?” he asks. “I need to run back over to your aunt’s house to help with the fireworks before tonight.”
“Before tonight?” I ask, my eyes watching him as he tosses that towel to a basket near the fridge—total bachelor’s house.
“Yeah. Beard challenge is over, and there’re going to be fireworks on the lake tonight to represent a new era. Your aunt’s words.”
I grin, but I’m still staring at his body instead of his face. Finally, my eyes come up just as he turns his head.
“I don’t want to stay here without you, since…brothers. I’ll drive over there to drop off the Jeep. Then ride back with you in the boat.”
He frowns like he’s thinking that over. His eyes drop to my jean shorts and my combat boots. What? Combat boots go with everything, and I don’t care what anyone says.
The frayed shorts are my sexiest pair, but I usually don’t wear them because they’re really short. Again, I don’t want to question my motives here, but I’m starting to see a very suspicious pattern.
“Ride with me. We’ll take the Jeep back tomorrow,” he says as his eyes come back up. Then a smile forms. “You finally get your wish. The bad beards are gone.”
Yeah, and now I worry what I’ve done to myself.
“Paul asked me out,” I tell him, gauging his reaction closely.
He just arches an eyebrow.
“And?”
Okay, so no jealous outburst. Not that I was expecting one.
“Just found that odd.”
Now I definitely sound suspicious.
He grins. “If you dated Paul, I’d have to question your sanity. And he’s in a hurry to get married, so that wouldn’t help your ‘settle down without settling down’ plan.”
My eyebrows go up.
“What?”
“You didn’t want to date Liam because you thought he wouldn’t settle down. Then you turned around and said you didn’t want to settle down. Can’t help but wonder if you just don’t want anyone at all right now.”
That’s not true. But at least that means he hasn’t noticed me raking my eyes over him in a constant scandalous appraisal lately.
“I don’t want to be treated like another notch by someone I have to see regularly, but I also don’t want a serious relationship.”
He shrugs while looking away. “Why’s that?” he asks, sounding casual as he picks up a shirt and tugs it over his head, covering up that secretly perfect body.
“Because of the pressure.”
He turns to face me, his eyebrows going up in confusion. “Pressure?”
“It’s Tomahawk,” I groan. “You get a boyfriend, people start constantly asking when you’re getting married. You get married, people bombard you with questions about when you’re going to conceive. You pop out a baby, people want to know when the next one is coming out of you.” I take a deep breath. “Pressure.”
He laughs outright, and I narrow my eyes at him. It’s easier to remember this is Benson when he’s laughing at me.
“So you don’t want to date anyone, because of peer pressure to have babies?”
“And to get married,” I remind him. “But yeah, also the baby fear. My mother and Aunt Penny were twins. Fraternal twins, but still twins. I’m one-third of a set of Triplets.”
He looks adorably confused. I love being able to read his expressive, sexy, very distracting face.
“Triplets, Benson,” I repeat. “My family is known for popping out multiples at one time. I’m not ready for one kid, much less multiples.”
He grins broader. “It’s funny how you think it’s anyone’s decision other than yours. Just tell people to leave you alone.”
“You need to remember that you haven’t dated anyone from here. Trust me. The pressure gets to you. I broke up with my ninth grade boyfriend—”
“Who?” he interrupts, brow creasing.
“Tim—”
“Tim Forrester?” he asks incredulously.
“He was hot in ninth grade. Pre-beard.”
He just looks at me like I’m crazy. “Did you have sex with him?
I make a sour face. “Ew. No. I didn’t have sex until I was seventeen and living in Seattle.”
He shakes his head, looking away, acting like he doesn’t want to hear that part. It’s totally an overshare, so I get it.
“Anyway, I broke up with him because his mother was constantly asking when we were getting married. It was shortly after I lost my parents—can you say insensitive, by the way? Best decision I ever made, because Tim was married the day Rebecca turned eighteen.”
His lips purse, his eyes on me again. “Not everyone has parents living here. Not all mothers would pressure you like that.”
“Aunt. Penny.”
His smile cracks on that one. “Touché.”
“So are we going or not?”
“You wearing that?” he asks, his hand gesturing to my shorts.
“It’s summer.”
“Still gets cool at night in the summer,” he says, eyeing me.
He’s right, but I’m committed to showing some leg right now. There’s a reason I borrowed Kylie’s shower to shave my legs before I left her place.
He seemed fascinated with them earlier, and I did get that weird date request from Paul—who is terrified of my brothers and doesn’t particularly like me. All from a little extra leg.
My hair is fixed now, since my shower. I even donned a little makeup. Not that he’s seemed to notice. Annnnd I’m back to feeling self-conscious. Not cool.
Maybe he should grow that beard back until I know how I feel about whatever he’s doing to me.
“You coming?” he asks.
Loaded question.
Usually, I skip right up to him, not the least bit intimidated. But now…totally intimidated.
He leads me out the lake-facing door, and I swallow as he tosses his arm around my shoulders before locking his door. He’s put his arm around me a thousand times. Never once has it felt like more than a friendly gesture.
His intentions are still friendly, but mine seem to be the ones obscured.
“So the face is better than the beard?” he asks, smiling down at me.
My knees actually go weak. Not kidding. It’s humiliating when I almost fall.
Benson quickly steadies me, looking around for a reason as to why I was seconds away from slamming head-first into the ground. “Ankle turned,” I lie, and he frowns as he looks back down at me.
“You hurt?”
I shake my head. “Just happens. No biggie.”
He nods, accepting the lie, and he guides me down the dock. My tee has a ‘Fear the Beard’ logo on it, just to really rub it in. Benson seems to notice it for the first time, laughing as he hops into the boat and helps me down.
“Of course that’s what you’d wear,” he says, smiling like it’s a good thing.
I try to ignore the way it feels when he grabs my waist this time, but I can’t. I shudder in his grip, but he doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, I think he’s blissfully unaware of my current status.
That’s utter hot mess status, in case you’re wondering.
He pulls us away, and he drives the distance across the lake to my aunt’s house. I’m all too happy to let him help me out, and he follows behind me.
My aunt walks out with a tray of cupcakes in her hands, beaming when she sees me. But when her eyes go over my shoulder to Benson, she drops the tray of cupcakes.
“Benson?” she gasps.
The cupcakes turn into ant food when they tumble around on the grass, and Benson smirks as he runs a nervous hand over the back of his neck.
“I can’t possibly look that different,” he grumbles.
“Oh yes. Oh, yes, you can,” she says while fanning herself with her hand.
The mosquitos will be out soon, so I walk off, abandoning them as I grab the unscented spray that works the best on me and spritz down. I notice my brothers glaring at me, and I smile wickedly at them.
My uncle would kill them if they touched me in front of him.
I even twirl my hair around my finger like an evil, glass-eyed dolly for good measure. Just wait until my next act of revenge on them. It’ll give me a reason to stay at Benson’s longer.
“You’re hiding from us,” Killian states flatly when he’s right in front of me.
“You idiots still need to fix my dock. And my bed. And I want my ceiling fan back too.”
“You cut off our beards, and you think we still owe you?” Hale asks, his eyes wide as he joins us. “You’re insane! My balls are still quivering.”
Their faces are clean shaven. I almost forgot what they looked like after all these years.
Two arms come around my waist, and I resist the urge to sigh as I lean back on Benson. My brothers glance at the contact, and as one, both their eyes narrow and settle on the man behind me.
“Everything okay over here?” Benson asks.
“You’re touching our sister,” Killian accuses.
“I’ve touched your sister numerous times before,” he points out.
“Yeah, but you didn’t look like you do now, barely bearded and all. And she didn’t get that dreamy look on her face before either,” Hale says calmly, but there’s an edge to his tone.
Apparently, Benson without a bushy beard is less scary to my brothers than Benson with a bushy beard. I can sort of understand that. Doesn’t make it suck less in this moment.
I actually feel the blush as it races over my body, and start praying it turns dark in two seconds, even though it’s still at least two or three hours until sunset.
“Dreamy look, huh?” Benson asks, sounding amused.
I refuse to turn and look at him. Instead, I give the death glare to my idiot brothers. Neither of them even glance at me to see it though, and they all stand a head over me, making it impossible to put my face in their line of vision even with the help of my tiptoes—that I’m pointlessly using. Short girl problems.
“What the hell is going on in your house?” Killian demands. “I thought you two were just friends.”
“We are,” Benson drawls, but he moves a little closer.
I practically feel the mockery in his tone.
“She’s our only sister,” they remind him.
“I’m aware.”
See? The few times I’ve considered dating, this has happened. It’s always mortifying and it usually terrifies any guy who even toys with the idea seeing me more than once.
“We don’t like guys who touch our sister,” Hale goes on, standing to his full, very tall height.
“You two are welcome to remove my hands from her,” Benson taunts.
They eye him, eye me, then eye where his hands rest across my middle. I bet they think of his spinning kick thingy, because I don’t see them lunging yet.
“We’ll be watching you,” Killian warns, pointing a finger at Benson before he moves to where the beer is resting in an ice chest.
I blow out a long breath, and Benson laughs behind me. “All these years I’ve had my hands on you, but I lose a chunk of my beard, so now they’re threatening me.”
I try to play it off, shrugging. “I’m surprised they haven’t threatened you sooner.”
I turn around, hoping I’m not fifty shades of red, and he grins down at me.
“Because I touch you?” he asks.
“And because I crash at your place from time to time,” I add, pressing against him a little more.
His eyes lock on mine, and I take in every beautiful inch of his face, admiring how much better it is to be this close without having a beard tickling me.
“Benson, did you bring them?” my uncle asks, interrupting our moment.
My eyes almost pop out of my head. Uncle Bill’s beard is still there, but it’s neatly trimmed, much shorter, and you can see his mouth now.
“See? He knew who I was,” Benson says, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Actually,” Uncle Bill says, clearing his throat and grinning sheepishly. “I had to get Penny to help me find you. Didn’t realize that was you.”
Benson’s eyebrows go up, and I grin triumphantly as they walk off to do whatever.
“If he hurts you, you realize we’ll have to break both his legs.” Killian’s voice startles me, since I had no idea he was anywhere around.
Hale hands me a beer that I inspect with dubious caution before opening.
“Possibly an arm or two as well,” Hale adds.
“It’s not like that,” I say on a sigh before sipping the beer.
My eyes linger on Benson as he smiles and says something to my uncle.
“If you say so,” Killian murmurs.
“We’ll get your bed fixed tomorrow so you can get back to your cabin,” Hale says adamantly.
“That’s not the only reason I’m avoiding my cabin,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I know you’re planning something terrible to punish me for the beard debacle.”
“We were.” Killian nods as he says this. “But that was before we realized how cozy you are with Benson. We’ll call a truce, and you can come home.”
“I don’t believe you.”
They exchange a look, then return their gazes to me.
“Seriously. Get home. We’ll call a truce on the graves.”
I swallow hard. They’re serious.
“All this over Benson? We’ve been friends for years. I’ve spent the night at his house before.”
“But he looks like a dude you’d want now. So get home.”
With that, they turn and walk away, and I flip them off to their backs as I roll my eyes and smile to myself.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Aunt Penny says, looking out as a bunch of boats full of women cruise this way.
That’s more than twenty. When did we get more than twenty single women? Why was I not informed of this very crucial development at a time like this?
“Looks like the beardless party is bringing the women back,” she goes on.
It’s apparently also bringing in women I didn’t even know existed.
Howls and whistles sound out as beardless, or mostly beardless, men welcome the incoming hordes of women, and I sit back, watching as several start talking to Benson.
Uh-oh.