Chapter 8
Wild Ones Tip #413
If a squirrel has firecrackers, run for your damn life.
Benson brings me another beer, popping the top on one of his own, as he shrugs out of his shirt.
My eyes widen, and I grip the beer in my hand too tightly. He tosses the shirt away, and he sits down beside me, dropping his arm over my shoulders like it’s no big deal that he’s now shirtless.
And touching me.
And shirtless.
I try to fix my attention on the TV, but it’s too hard.
“We’ll go out when we hear the fireworks starting,” he says. “But all the beer has me burning up.”
I can’t help myself; I poke his stomach to see if it’s as hard as it looks, and he jerks, looking down at me like I’m a crazy girl.
“How are you so hard?”
He chokes on his beer, and I replay those words in my head.
“I mean your body,” I amend.
He laughs lightly, shaking his head. “I kayak first thing in the morning almost every morning, which you know. I work on various projects—physically demanding projects, which you know. You’ve seen my gym; it’s not just for looks. Not to mention the running—”
“You run?” I ask, interrupting him as horror washes over me. “On purpose?”
His smile slowly forms. I really like that smile he’s been hiding for too long. “Yeah. At least once a day, usually early mornings…why?”
I shudder dramatically. “I don’t know you at all.”
A rumble of laughter escapes him as I try to process that.
“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” I tell him, looking back at the imposter who I thought was awesome just a few seconds ago.
He just grins broader, not taking this as seriously as he should.
“So Liam and you looked chummy tonight,” he says, deflecting.
“Well, he didn’t confess to something as nasty as running on purpose.”
That smile only grows. “You trading me in for him as a friend? Or was he finally asking you out?”
I shrug, smirking as I redirect my attention to the TV.
“He’s not interested in me in that way. And I’m not interested in him. Too pretty for me.”
“Because he doesn’t have a beard,” he says hesitantly.
“No. Because he’s freakishly gorgeous.”
He bristles beside me, and I turn to face him.
“Why the inquisition?” I muse, echoing his words from that odd little breakfast we shared.
“Just curious,” he says before turning his beer up.
Absently, I notice his other hand is twirling strands of my hair around it.
“Weirdly, I know more about his story before Tomahawk than I know about yours. And we’ve known each other for six years. Been friends for three years. I’ve known Liam for a handful of days.”
He clears his throat, shifting uneasily. “What do you want to know?”
“The usual,” I say, turning to face him, feeling a little eager to get some answers.
Just as he opens his mouth to speak, there’s a loud pounding on the door. Cursing, he stands and goes to answer it, but I almost demand he puts a shirt on when people start walking in.
No one else is allowed to see him like this.
See? Crazy girl alert.
But it’s okay, because I’m a Vincent. People expect some crazy.
“Benson!” Paul calls. “Care if we watch the fireworks from over here? Her damn brothers are driving us crazy with that bungie launcher they built,” Paul says, gesturing toward me.
Then Lindy walks in, her eyes going straight to the half-naked specimen that is mine. Well, he will be.
I’ve decided that there’s no way I can keep living in denial. Time to move on to another phase and hope Benson wants me too. I just don’t know how to test those waters without being awkward about it.
Benson has been a permanent fixture in my life for a while, and ever since sleeping on top of him, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. And it’s Benson. We’re friends. We’re best friends, actually.
That could be a good thing, right?
Lindy smiles brightly at him as several other men and women walk in. I don’t bother looking at their faces, because I’m too concentrated on Benson as he walks back toward me.
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” he tells Paul. “But this better mean my materials get moved up to the top of the list.”
Paul nods, grinning with delight, as Delaney drops to his lap on the chair next to us. Lindy moves toward us, but Benson literally pulls me onto his lap before she can make a move.
Again, I get the evil eye, even as I try not to grin.
Lindy is ballsy, but she’s not a Vincent or a Wild One. She knows I trump her level of crazy, and I see the moment she knows she can’t compete.
Benson’s arms go around my waist, and he buries his face in my neck. “Tell me when she’s gone,” he whispers, and I fight really hard not to laugh.
“Lindy! Come join us,” someone shouts from the side.
Benson’s pool table is coming in handy as Lindy goes to show off her skills in her daisy dukes.
“Best. Night. Ever,” Paul sighs as Delaney smiles against his lips.
Benson shakes his head, his face still against my neck.
“She’s gone,” I tell him, and he lifts his head, scanning the room to make sure I’m not tricking him.
He doesn’t let me out of his lap, so I stay in place as Delaney tells us about what my brothers were doing. Apparently they decided watermelons were awesome ammo for their new contraption.
They also thought Aunt Penny’s pies were awesome ammo.
And I give it maybe fifteen more minutes before she’s chasing them with the BB gun until they’re off her property.
Benson’s hands stay clasped around my middle as I talk to Delaney about my trip out to Seattle that’s coming up next month for a graphic design seminar I want to attend. That’s when Lindy returns.
“So, you two got cozy quick,” Lindy says, her annoyed eyes betraying her smiling lips.
She’s carefully navigating, scoping out my crazy reach, testing the waters.
“They’re always like that,” Paul says dismissively, which has Lindy deflating like Delaney did earlier.
Sheesh. Has no one ever noticed him at all when he was with me? It’s like he was invisible or something.
Benson gulps down another beer, and I start noticing that he’s getting drunk when his hands start drifting over my body, touching me a little less safely. His thumb even brushes my breast once.
This isn’t the first time, but it’s the first time I haven’t stopped his hands while laughing it off.
Usually he gets drunk, gets handsy, then he’s mortified the next day. By usually, I mean this has happened a total of five times. It’s why he rarely drinks around me.
Tonight, however, I don’t bat his hands away.
I also know that I should, because we’re both a little tipsy, which is also a first. Usually one stays sober while the other drinks. And by usually, again, like a handful of times.
I’ve been handsy before on Benson, according to Paul, but I don’t remember it, and Aunt Penny never saw it. And Benson said it never happened. So…who knows?
I lean back, sighing as Benson’s lips brush my neck. Something he’d never, ever do sober. Hence the reason I know he’s getting drunker by the beer.
I drink more of mine, and he looks over, gesturing toward Delaney who is ramming her tongue down Paul’s throat. Paul is in heaven, but I think he’s about to have an accident.
According to rumors, it’s been a while for him.
I laugh while standing, noticing Lindy is back at the pool table, no longer watching us.
Thunderous booms rattles the sky, causing the house to quake, and Benson smiles down at me as we both grab a fresh beer from the ice bucket one of the others set up, and head outside to watch the fireworks.
He tugs me to him, resting his chin on top of my head as I lean back against him. The fireworks sprinkle across the sky, beautiful and bright, demanding attention.
I’m barely able to notice the others coming out to join us, everyone gushing over the beautiful display. My uncle drives for miles to get the good stuff for these things. He has three closets packed full of just fireworks.
Just as another set burst into the sky, I hear a dog barking like crazy, and screams erupting.
I run in, grab the binoculars off Benson’s table, and run back out, looking through them.
“What’s going on?” Benson asks.
I realize it’s Cooter, my brothers’ bloodhound that roams around, when he runs in front of a light. But it’s what he’s chasing that has my heart pattering.
“Cooter,” I say on a groan.
There’s a squirrel with a set of firecrackers going off on a long string attached to its tail. Cooter is howling, doing all he can to catch the squirrel and the firecrackers. I can’t see what happens when they aren’t in front of the light.
Then I screech when I hear a loud squeal from across the lake, and suddenly fireworks are shooting this way.
Benson jerks me down to the ground, and the binoculars fall out of my hand as he covers my body with his.
Fireworks boom right above us, debris from the too-close explosives raining down on us and his house. Paul screams and yelps as he falls to the ground and starts scooting his ass across it.
“Ow!” he howls.
Another one almost connects with his back, and Benson presses more of his body on top of me until I’m completely shielded.
“Get down!” Benson shouts to all the idiots who haven’t ducked for cover yet.
Another firework blasts right above us, knocking his rain gutter loose as the blindingly bright, white blast leaves dots on my vision.
I blink rapidly.
My ears ache from all the close contact noise.
It grows deadly silent as quickly as things got out of hand, and I peer around, still seeing a few dots, wondering if it’s safe.
“Are there more?” Benson calls out loudly.
“No! None that are lit!” my uncle calls back. “I’m going to kill those fucking heathens!”
“I’ll help!” Benson yells as he stands and helps drag me to my feet.
Leave it to my brothers to get one night back at my aunt’s and ruin the fireworks.
“What happened to the squirrel?” I call out.
“Cooter got him,” Uncle Bill answers.
I grimace, but silently hope it was one of the squirrel bastards who has been chewing through my wiring in the attic and making my life hell. Benson tugs me to his side.
“Let’s get our drink on, beardless animals!” Paul roars, no longer concerned about his scorched ass as he drags Delaney back into Benson’s house.
Benson sighs as we both trudge back in.
Why oh why did I get rid of the beards?