Rory and I are a package deal, and my daughter is my first priority — and Hattie knows and supports me and the rest of her Outdoor Adventure families in that.
And that in turn makes my heart pound for her all the more.
The movie plays on, full of near misses and meet-cutes, but my mind isn’t on the story. All I am and want to be aware of is the woman sitting at my side, her hand entwined with mine.
I give her hand a squeeze, eyes on the film. I can’t suppress the broad smile that streaks across my face when Hattie squeezes my hand back.
Hattie
When the credits roll, I briefly introduce Ben to Amelia, Tatum, Kate, and Harry before hauling him from his seat — and away from their curious eyes. I’m not ready to answer their questions yet, and I’m certainly not going to subject Ben to that on his first meeting with them.
Especially after I forgot to tell him that they were going to the movies with us. I cringe again at my fuck-up.
Outside, the cool night air washes over my skin. It should feel uncomfortably cold for what I’m wearing, but it soothes me.
We walk to my truck, but when we get there, I don’t want to get in. I turn to Ben, taking in his grizzled jaw, the few silver threads in his thick brown hair and the way the corners of his eyes turn upward when he looks back at me.
The movie is over, but I’m not ready for the night to end.
I consider telling Ben that. My heart throbs in my throat.
He’s probably only here to be nice, I tell myself. And there’s Rory to think about. It wouldn’t be fair to weave my way deeper into their family if I’m not even sure what I want.
So I swallow my words and opt for the safety of an innocuous query. “What’d you think of the movie?”
I’m surprised to see Ben wince, a sheepish grin creeping over his face. “The guy got the girl, right?”
“Yes.” I cock my head to the side, confused. “Did you fall asleep and miss the end?”
“No.” His words come slow, as if he’s weighing each syllable before letting them fall from his lips. “But I was distracted.”
I frown, stomach seizing up at the thought that Ben didn’t want to accompany me to the movies after all. “By what?” The question is a rough whisper.
Ben steps toward me, and he’s all that my eyes choose to see. His green eyes blaze into mine but his hands shake. I gulp deep breaths of his scent that reminds me of bark and grass and the windy blue skies of early spring.
He reaches out as if to trace a thumb down the line of my jaw, but then decides against it. I’m surprised by the little sigh of disappointment that escapes me.
“I was distracted,” he says, eyes burning with fear and something else — something that makes my thighs press together and my skin ache to be touched — “by the girl sitting next to me.”
Now it’s not my heart that’s throbbing, it’s my nether regions. Because Ben just gave voice to my feelings, making them that much more alive and real.
“You were?” I breathe. I’m trembling too, and it has nothing to do with the night’s chill.
He nods. “But I’m worried.”
“About what?”
Ben drops his eyes and hauls in a deep breath. When he releases his exhalation, it’s worn and ragged. For the first time I can see for the weight of so many years of being a widower and single father. “I’m worried about overstepping my bounds. I’m worried about pushing away the role model my daughter loves so dearly.”
He looks at me again, letting me see his confusion and pain, and it makes me want to take him in my arms and chase it away any way that I can.
Then there’s a spark and his green eyes are afire once more. “But most of all,” he says, a low rumble entering his voice and making my insides turn to jelly, “I’m worried that the woman I find myself falling for might not want me.”
My chest is heaving and my tongue gropes for words. “The woman you’re — you’re falling for?” I echo. I know what I want those words to mean, but I need to hear the truth of them from him.
“I don’t know why this is happening now, Hattie.” My name on his lips makes my throat clutch. “But I think —“ He breaks off, steadies himself with a breath, then presses on. “I think that I’m falling in love with you.”
I close my eyes, letting his words spiral around and into me, making my chest fill with gentle wind and sunshine.
It’s not just me.
I’m not crazy.
And Ben wants me the way I’ve found myself wanting him.
I open my eyes, smiling through unexpected tears at the man standing before me, fear on his face and his heart held out for the taking.
“Hattie?”
I close the space that remains between us, studying the lines around his eyes, the way the smooth skin on the apples of his cheeks contrasts with the stubble growing over his jaw. I open my mouth to reply and my voice does not comply.
Ben’s eyes rove my face. “Tell me you feel the same way about me?” He grimaces. “Or tell me to go to hell if I’m wrong.”
I shake my head. “No,” I murmur. “You’re not wrong.” The words are a whisper, but they’re there.
The muscles of his jaw and neck flex, gaze ravenous. “You’re here with me?”
“I feel it too. And I don’t know why now either.”
“But . . . you’re not sorry about it?” he insists. I can feel the heat of his body, the power of his presence. How have I never noticed this before?
“I’m not sorry.” I run my fingers down the sleeve of his jacket, taking pleasure from how he first flinches at and then, an instant later, leans into the touch. “Not now that I know I’m not alone.”
My touch cuts the chains of his hesitation. Ben takes my face in both hands. I close my eyes, savoring the manly roughness of his fingers against my cheeks.
“You’re very much not alone,” Ben says so fiercely that I can practically feel the heat of his words.
His fire kindles my own. Fear gives way and I raise my eyes to his. “Show me,” I challenge, the corners of my lips curling to the night sky. I use his words. “Show me that you’re here with me.”
His lips mirror mine, curving upward at the corners, but there’s steel in Ben’s eyes. He pushes me against the cool metal of my truck, pressing his body over mine, and conquers my mouth with his.
I thought it might feel shocking to experience Rory’s father in this new way. But instead, it feels so damn right, like everything I didn’t know I needed.
Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, I demand more closeness. My lanky body fits perfectly with his seasoned form and it sets my core nagging for more.
More of the beautiful, devouring kisses he’s claiming me with.
More of his hands raking down my torso.
More of how his hardness pushes through our clothes against my hungry opening.
I swivel my hips against Ben’s cock and he rewards me with a groan. He pulls away to watch me as I spiral my slit against him. I break my rhythm to thrust my pelvis at him. His eyes shutter. “Oh my god,” he groans.
Grinning wickedly, I nip at his neck. His eyes snap back open, emerald orbs on fire. One of his eyebrows twitches with his own mischief and he shoves a hand between us. Insistent fingers knead at the crotch of my jeans, probing my lips, my opening, and finally, exquisitely, my clit.