"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.