Emmy
Ben looked stunned to hear that he’d be going hunting with my dad and brother but he rose from the couch, seemingly game for an adventure.
My mom stomped out from the kitchen, appraising Ben’s designer chinos and button-down shirt. “Your clothes are much too nice for romping around in the fields. Emmy, go get him a pair of your dad’s britches.”
Oh. My. God. My mom was officially insane. Did she really think Ben would be comfortable wearing a pair of my dad’s old Wranglers? I wanted to die. Seriously, I closed my eyes and silently prayed that the floor in the trailer would miraculously cave in and swallow me whole.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Clarke. Thank you, though,” Ben said, politely refusing her request.
I watched Ben leave with the men in Porter’s old pickup truck and a wave of nerves hit me. I wondered how he’d fare alone with my dad and brother. But my mom thrust a ten-pound bag of potatoes at me, and I knew peeling them with the old, dull knife from her ancient knife block would be the perfect distraction.
I knew my family life was much different than Ben’s. I could only hope he’d fare okay with my dad and Porter. And hunting no less. There were firearms involved.
“So does Ben want marriage, kids? He’s got a pretty nontraditional lifestyle, sweetie.” My mom was nothing if not direct.
“Uh . . . I’m not really sure. We haven’t talked about it.” Other than my drunken rant telling him we’d make attractive kids. That was just a damn fact of life, though. Any babies with his DNA would be stunning specimens. Superior in every way, I was convinced. Little green-eyed babies with dark hair and full, pouty mouths danced through my head while I methodically peeled the potatoes.
My mom abandoned chopping a pile of onions and turned to face me. “How could you have not talked about it? You’re dating pretty seriously. . . . You’re not one to just bring home a man, Emerson Jean.”
She was right, of course. I’d never brought home a man for a holiday like this before. And I did feel differently about Ben. I wanted him to be my future. I guess part of me was just scared about his possible baby with Fiona and their relationship, even if it was professional now. Mostly I worried that he couldn’t possibly want the simple life I’d envisioned for myself since I was a little girl. A home down the street from my parents, big family holidays, baking pies with my mom, and, one day, my little girl. The sour feeling in the pit of my stomach rolled with unease. “He didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving. His mom lives all the way down in Australia. I didn’t want him eating Chinese takeout.”
Her look of concern told me I was probably crazy, reading way too much into our relationship.
An errant tear dropped from my eye.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s just those damn onions,” I lied, gazing at the pile of chopped onions on the counter. The weight of her concerns about Ben burned like acid in my stomach. How had I allowed myself to fall for someone so wrong for me? The only reasoning I could find was that it was never a choice.
Loving Ben Shaw wasn’t something I ever planned on doing. Lord knew my family and friends warned me from getting emotionally attached. But I had zero control in the matter.
I had two choices: to enjoy the ride for what it was worth and accept him and his limitations or move on without him.
It wasn’t a choice. I wouldn’t turn my back on him. My heart, my body, my entire being craved him like a drug.
Her expression softened. “I support you and whatever makes you happy. I just want to make sure you’re being careful with your heart this time.”
I tossed the potatoes into the pot with more force than necessary. “I’ve got it, Mom.”
Of course she was only trying to help, and she’d seen me at my worst after my breakup with Ben obliterated my heart like it’d been through a blender.
“Well, is he religious, does he have the same values as our family, Emerson?”
Religious? I didn’t think so. Not particularly. But he had values I respected. He was hardworking, willing to help out friends, dedicated, and faithful. That was all I needed. Of course now that my mom had mentioned it, I was dying with curiosity to know his stance on marriage and kids. Even getting him to say I love you seemed like a giant leap for him. I was just hoping no one grilled him over dinner on politics or religion. My damn family would scare him off before we even got started.
Somehow the awkward pauses and tense silences hanging around the men had evaporated by the time they returned from the annual turkey hunt. Porter dealt with the bird in the garage and my dad and Ben came inside, all smiles and loud stories. I bounded into the living room. How very homey . . . my man coming home with my daddy after hunting.
“Woman, I bring meat,” Ben said with a chuckle, mimicking a deep, cavemanlike voice.
My dad laughed and patted him loudly on the back. “He did well. He’s a great shot.”
I beamed up at him, fighting the urge to kiss him silly. He’d never looked sexier—returning from a hunt with my father; the smell of fresh air, sweat, and male bonding. I could envision him being part of my family and that thought sent a little thrill racing through my system. Coupled with my mom’s talk earlier about marriage and babies, my mind was on overload with visions of matrimonial bliss. I needed to stop. I was acting crazy. Lord, I could only imagine my mom’s reaction if she knew about Fiona.
“Nice job, honey.” I pressed a kiss to his throat and scurried off to the kitchen before I molested him in front of my dad. I couldn’t imagine that’d go over well.
After eating an amazing home-cooked dinner of barbecued ribs, beans, and corn bread, we drank glasses of sweet tea. My dad even broke out his special aged whiskey reserved for special occasions to pour himself, Porter, and Ben glasses.
My dad stood at the head of the table and raised his glass. “I’d just like to properly welcome Ben here to Tennessee. Say thank you for bringing my girl home safe and sound.”
The smile on Ben’s face and the twinkle in his eye was priceless. I wanted to bottle that contented, happy look and save it to enjoy later. Seeing him around my family tonight, I was repeatedly hit with a pang of sadness that he didn’t have this type of relationship with his mom, and to the best of my knowledge, didn’t know who his dad was. I was glad to see my family welcoming him.
After dinner I helped my mom wash the dishes while Ben helped my dad clean the guns. Porter hadn’t seemed to warm to Ben yet and took off for a local tavern for a beer by himself. Even though he was my younger brother, he acted like he was ten years older—always had. He was superprotective of me, so it didn’t surprise me he hadn’t taken to Ben just yet, although I hoped he would in time.
At bedtime my mom and I helped Ben cover the couch with sheets and left him extra blankets and pillows. I lingered beside the couch and Ben’s dark eyes landed on mine. My mom cleared her throat. “Say goodnight, but nothing funny, you two. It would make your dad really uncomfortable.”
“Of course, Mrs. Clarke. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Ben had such good manners in front of my parents. I loved seeing this side of him. Knowing there was a filthy-talking sex god lurking just under the surface of this well-mannered man was a big turn-on. Huge.
My mom disappeared down the darkened hallway and only the low light from the television was left to illuminate us. It was the first time we’d been alone all day. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face against his neck, and breathe in. But I knew once I felt his firm body and inhaled his delicious scent, I’d want more.
His hand slid under my hair to cradle the back of my neck then he tilted my head and pressed his lips to mine. “Thanks for bringing me home,” he whispered.
“Thank you for coming.” I leaned my head back into his palm.
“I’m gonna win your dad over. You know that, right?”
I nodded, unable to take my eyes from his. “Are you going to be able to sleep?”
He gave my neck a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be fine. You get some rest.”
I scurried down the darkened hallway to my bedroom before I changed my mind and tackled him onto the couch.
After brushing my teeth and changing into sweatpants and a tank top, I crawled under the covers of my familiar old bed. Pulling my grandma’s quilt up to my chin, I lay there wide awake, wondering if it’d ever be possible for Ben to fit into this life.
I tossed and turned on the lumpy, narrow mattress until well past midnight. My mom’s words rang in my head. Unanswered questions, topics Ben and I had never discussed. Not to mention he just looked out of place in this shabby trailer. Too commanding, too big, most assuredly too beautiful. It suddenly felt like a big fucking deal that I didn’t know his stance on marriage and kids. I’d fallen hopelessly in love with him without even knowing if we were compatible, if we were building toward something real.
My heart raced in my chest. God, I felt like an idiot that I didn’t have the slightest idea to these major life questions. These were nonnegotiable for me. My chest felt tight and achy. I couldn’t go through another breakup with Ben. My heart wouldn’t survive it. I felt like crying. I curled into a ball and hugged my pillow as silent tears streamed down my cheeks.
Damn it.
I wasn’t going to get any sleep at this rate. And my eyes were going to be all puffy for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I threw back the covers and climbed from bed. I’d get a glass of cool water, collect myself, and then get back in bed.
I crept down the hallway, navigating the worn pathway easily in the dark. I filled a glass with tap water and chugged it in the darkened kitchen before a noise from the living room caught my attention. Ben was stirring. Shit, maybe he’d never even fallen asleep.
“Emmy?” he whispered loudly. “Is that you?”
I rolled my eyes. He was going to wake everyone in the tiny trailer with his supposed whispering.
I put the glass in the sink and went to the living room. The soft glow of moonlight filtering through my mom’s lace curtains illuminated him on the couch, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. “Come here,” he whispered, softer this time. “I’m horny,” he said as he chuckled softly.
I knew I should head back to my bed but I couldn’t resist getting close to him. I sunk to the couch, curling into his side.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He pushed the hair back from my face, looking me over in the darkness.
I wiped my cheeks by instinct, though my tears were now dry. “I can’t tell you.”
“Of course you can. You can tell me anything.”
“But . . .”
“Shh.” His hand cupped my cheek. “I already know, Emmy.” My eyes met his as his thumb soothed the skin along my jaw. “Our lives are different,” he continued. “Me being here highlights that. But I told you I’m going to win over your dad. And actually, I enjoyed hunting today.”
I nodded. “I know my parents like you already. That’s not what this is about.” God help me. Did I even have the courage to tell him the crazy thoughts running rampant in my mind?
“Emmy, breathe for me, baby.”
I pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, my lungs tightening with the effort.
“Tell me.” His tone was commanding but his gaze was worried and sincere.
“What’s your stance on marriage?”
He coughed. “Marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, shit.” He rubbed a hand through his rumpled hair. “It seems like a fine institution.”
I was in too deep now. I decided to push on. “I mean, do you want to get married someday?”
“Is this your way of asking me where things are headed with us?”
“I guess so,” I said, my voice a weak murmur.
“Hey, look at me.” Ben lifted my chin until my eyes met his. “I want you. I want this. I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before, so I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression I’m not committed to us—I am. And I know things with Fiona are fucked up . . . but don’t question this.”
I swallowed. “I’m not. I’m just scared. I see my life—my future—and I want kids, a devoted husband. I’d like to live here in Tennessee near my parents someday.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly in the dim light. “I didn’t have the best example growing up. My mom never married. I haven’t really ever thought about it. Shit, I never thought I’d be in a serious relationship like this. Just give me time, okay?”
I closed my mouth, unwilling to press him further, and nodded. It wasn’t the exact answer I’d been looking for, but it was all he had to give. His hand curled around my waist and he pulled me closer so that I was pressed against him on the couch. His hands rested on my hips, clutching me firmly to him, and everything felt right. He might not have given me an answer my mom would be happy with, but it was enough. For now. He was willing to try, for me.
My heart rate kicked up and suddenly my body wanted more. More everything. More contact. More him.
I didn’t care that we were in my parents’ living room. I needed him. Wanted to feel his skin against mine. Nothing else mattered.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. My bare nipples tightened in the cool night air.
“Holy shit. What are you doing?”
“Now I’m horny.”
“Baby. I was kidding before. We can’t. Your parents . . .”
“I need this. Please . . .”
“Fuck, baby. Don’t tempt me. You know I want to make you come.”
“Yes, please, Ben.”