Take Me Under Page 20

  “Yeah. And one day in the not so distant future, I’ll be the old news, too.”

  Connie pursed her lips, her head cocked to the side again . . . but she didn’t immediately say anything.

  “What?” Reese asked, giving her a wary look.

  “I don’t know,” Connie said, shrugging a little. “It’s just that, before seeing how he is around you today, I’d have probably agreed with you. As wonderful as you are, I wasn’t sure that Ben had it in him to realize how lucky he is that you’re interested. But now . . . I think I would have been wrong about him.”

  Terrified to get her hopes up, Reese repeated one of their late grandmother’s favorite sayings. “I can hope for the best, but it’s smarter to prepare for the worst.”

  Connie gave a soft laugh. “Well, just so you know, he’s sitting at a table over there, facing the mirrored wall, and he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since he sat down.”

  Just like that, Reese’s blush came back in full force. “God, I wish I could just figure him out. But he’s so damn confusing.”

  Connie snorted. “He’s a guy, isn’t he? They’re always a lot to handle when they see their bachelor days slipping away from them.”

  The waiter brought Connie’s credit card back to the table while Reese was still sitting there, blinking, stunned into silence by what Connie had just said. As her sister slipped the card back into her wallet, she went on, saying, “I’m going to head on home, but you should get over there and keep the poor boy company while he eats. I think Mom and I are planning to drop by your place in the morning with a few housewarming gifts, but if you’re not at home, I’ll know whose door to knock on,” she finished with a wink.

  Shaking her head, Reese said, “It isn’t like that, Con. We’re . . . we aren’t spending the night together.”

  Connie’s face fell. “Oh.”

  She wondered if her smile looked as unsure as it felt. “It’s better that way.”

  “His idea?” Connie asked, lifting her brows.

  Reese exhaled a shaky breath. “No. Mine. It’s actually one of the things we argued about last night,” she murmured, feeling bad for not telling Connie the whole truth. But she didn’t want her family worrying about this crazy stalker business. Knowing her mom and Connie, they’d probably board a plane to Boston and try to confront Drew face-to-face.

  “Oh . . . well, in that case,” Connie was saying, sliding a sympathetic glance at Ben, “I think you should cut the guy some slack, sis. He looks like he’s got it bad.” Sliding out of the booth, she slid her purse strap over her shoulder, then gave Reese a hug after she’d scooted out of the opposite side. “Just remember that anything worth keeping is definitely worth fighting for,” Connie whispered in her ear.

  Reese ran those compelling words through her mind as she waited for Connie to reach the door, knowing her sister would give her a little wave before she left. With her pulse beginning to roar in her ears, Reese waved back, then took a deep breath, turned, and started working her way through the crowded restaurant, heading for Ben’s table. She was nervous and dangerously hopeful, her heart pounding like crazy as she considered the idea that Connie might actually be right. Maybe she did need to fight for what she wanted. To let all those bitchy Denises stay in the past, where they belonged, and focus on going forward.

  A year ago, she would have never had the courage or the confidence, but she was different now. Her will had been forged in the burning ashes of her divorce and the madness that had stalked her afterward—that was still stalking her—and she knew that she could face whatever life threw at her . . . and maybe even put up a decent fight for what she wanted in the process. Even if what she wanted was a tall, dark, devastatingly sexy badass. One who seemed determined to work his way under her skin, making her crave his touch and taste and scent. Making her ache for every crooked smile and heated glance.

  There was no guarantee that Ben would ever return her feelings. Brit had told her that he was “closed down,” and she didn’t know if she had what it would take to break him open. But she wasn’t ready to turn her back on them without even trying. She’d be smart, holding on to those boundaries that they’d talked about, but she wasn’t going to scurry off and hide.

  Yeah, they might eventually find that brick wall coming at them from out of nowhere, but today was a new day, and Reese could suddenly see that there was another option besides slamming into the thing headfirst.

  If she fought for him hard enough, they just might be able to smash right through it . . .

  And reach the other side.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS LATER, DESPITE A COUPLE OF HEATED ARGUMENTS, BEN STILL hadn’t managed to change Reese’s mind about letting him sleep over again, her determination to keep those “limits” on their relationship impossible to crack. He also hadn’t managed to get any closer to getting his fill of her, the need continuing to dig its way deeper into him each day, impossible to ignore. He didn’t know how to explain it, or how to make her understand where he was coming from without revealing far more than he was comfortable with. All he knew was that when he was with her, he had this overwhelming feeling that he was exactly where he was meant to be. Yeah, she drove him crazy at times, too fucking stubborn for her own good, but she made him feel better than he had in . . . Hell, she made him feel better than he ever had. But like an idiot, he didn’t have the balls to tell her.

  Sitting at his desk, he stared out the window at the windblown trees, thinking about the conversation they’d had last night, before he’d headed home. They’d been lying on her sofa, wrapped around each other, still damp with sweat from a deliciously long, grinding fuck, when she’d said, “I’m sorry I didn’t feel like going for a walk down on the beach tonight.” They’d been sticking close to home, since he hadn’t wanted to risk another disaster like the one with Denise. At least not until he had this thing with Reese on steady ground, and knew they could handle the shit from his past without it driving another wedge between them.

  “No need to be sorry.” His voice had been rough with satisfaction. “There’s nothing in the world I’d rather be doing than what we just did.”

  She’d laughed, but then went quiet as she’d snuggled back against him, hands wrapped around his forearms as he held her close. Eventually, in a soft voice, she’d said, “He told me I was boring.”

  “What?”

  She’d drawn an unsteady breath. “He said he was bored. Drew did. That he loved me, but that I wasn’t exciting enough for him.”

  “I take back what I said before,” he’d ground out, so furious he could have snapped the fucker in two. “He’s not just stupid, he’s a moron.” A moron they’d learned was currently at a legal conference in Northern California with the receptionist Reese had caught him banging.

  Smiling at him over her shoulder, she’d said, “For such a badass, you’re awfully sweet, Sheriff Hudson.”

  “That’s just ’cause I’m trying to put you under my spell,” he’d teased, his voice still rough with anger. But he wasn’t going to take it out on her.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” he’d asked, distracted by the way she was looking at him, her eyes all glowing and soft.

  “What do you want out of this, Ben?” She’d sat up and turned toward him, tucking a glossy strand of hair behind her ear. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to ask you that question, but this week has been so overwhelming and . . . intense. I just . . . I need at least a glimmer of what’s going on in your head.”

  Panic had instantly lodged itself in his throat like a boulder. Instead of answering, he’d bent one of his arms behind his head, and had asked, “What do you want out of it?”

  Taking a deep breath, she’d held his gaze as she spoke. “I . . . I know that I don’t want to get hurt. But I don’t want to walk away from you, either.”

  “Then don’t.”

  When she’d realized that was all he was going to say, she moved to stand up, but Ben had caught
her wrist and tugged her back down to the sofa, pinning her beneath the hard weight of his body. Pushing her hair back from her face, he’d stared down into her stormy eyes and struggled to find the right thing to say before he completely fucked things up. It took him a few moments, but he’d finally told her, “I don’t know how to have these kinds of conversations, Reese. I know I’m not any good at this, but if you can just be patient, I promise I’ll try not to screw it up.”

  “I’m not trying to pressure you,” she’d said, staring up at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Trying to get inside his head and figure out what his fucking problem was. If he was worth fighting for, or if it was better just to wash her hands of him now and find some other guy who wasn’t so emotionally stunted. “I’m just trying to get you to talk to me.”

  “I know, honey. But you want me to talk about feelings and all that shit, and I . . . I’m not any good at—”

  “Just forget it,” she’d said, cutting him off. It’d been clear from her expression that she was disappointed. “You don’t have to say anything. This was obviously a bad idea. I’m being an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not.” He’d lowered his head, kissing his way across a soft, freckled cheek. “You’re beautiful and fun and so sexy I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

  “You’re nuts,” she’d whispered, turning adorably pink.

  His voice rough with emotion, Ben had stared into her eyes, swallowed back his fear, and finally forced out at least a few of the words he’d wanted to say. “I want you, Reese. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Just . . . give me a chance to prove that to you, okay? To prove that I won’t hurt you.”

  Which could very well be bullshit, he realized in the bright light of day, furious with himself for being such a pathetic bastard. If his track record was anything to go by, there was a good chance she wouldn’t come out of this unscathed. Not if he stuck around long enough to do the damage. According to Brit, it was a learned behavior for him: Hurt before you get hurt. One he’d no doubt picked up at an early age, after watching his parents’ screwed-up marriage. He could fight it all he wanted, but Ben had a strong suspicion that the harder he fell for Reese, the stronger that instinct would eventually kick in.

  But Christ, he didn’t want that to happen.

  He’d been telling himself from the beginning that she wouldn’t want anything serious. That she’d be happy with an exclusive, but short-term arrangement, same as him, until they both decided it was time to move on. But as he’d lain on that couch, staring into those dark blue eyes, he’d had to question if that was really what he wanted. Because the idea of walking away from her made him feel like he’d been kicked in the gut. Somehow, his old lifestyle wasn’t some safety line waiting down the road for him. It was a fucking death knell ringing in his ears, because it meant that the best damn thing to have ever happened to him would have slipped through his fingers.

  She’d had an early lunch date with Brit at eleven, and was going to meet up with Connie after that to do some shopping for a few new pieces of furniture. Hoping she was done, Ben tried to call her cell phone—he’d given it back to her on Wednesday evening—but it went straight to her voice mail. He left her a message, telling her that he had to finish up some work at the station and to give him a call if she wanted him to bring something over for dinner. Even though they weren’t sharing a bed, they were still eating together every night, and then screwing like a couple of minks, until she kicked his ass out when it got late. And he was getting damn tired of that scenario. With any other woman, yeah, it would have been the way he played it. Screw her through the mattress, then head home, where he could enjoy a good night’s sleep without someone clinging to him, setting expectations he was never going to meet . . . and didn’t even want to. But everything inside him rebelled against the idea of leaving Reese alone.

  Just like he had on Monday night, Ben wanted to hold her through the quiet hours of darkness. Wanted to feel the warmth of her breath on his chest, the softness of her skin pressed along his. He just . . . wanted her. Badly. And even though it still scared the shit out of him, there was a part of him that just didn’t give a damn anymore. That just wanted to get the woman in his arms and keep her there.

  Maybe tonight he’d just wear her out until she collapsed in exhaustion, and she’d fall asleep before she could ask him to leave. If she was prickly about it in the morning, he could always soften her up with his tongue before letting her out of bed. God knew there was nothing he enjoyed more than getting his mouth on that sweet little cunt. He couldn’t get enough of the way she felt, the way she smelled . . . and Christ, the way she tasted nearly killed him. It was a goddamn sensory overload every time he went down on her, his body reverting to some kind of primitive state where her pleasure became an insatiable craving, and he was strung out on the feeling. So much so that his mouth was already watering, his dick loaded and rock hard in his khakis, just from thinking about it.

  “Cool it, for chrissakes,” he muttered under his breath. The station was no place for a fucking hard-on. Not if he wanted to avoid being the butt of bad jokes for the rest of his life.

  He put in a quick call to Alex, checking to see if his brother had made any progress with the favor he’d asked him. On Wednesday evening, when he and Reese had gone down for another walk along the shore, Ben could have sworn he’d caught sight of the same dark-haired male he’d seen at the beach on Tuesday. But he’d lost him in a crowd gathering for a big beach volleyball tournament, and hadn’t been able to spot him again. Though he couldn’t fucking place him, Ben was positive that he knew the guy from somewhere, and so he’d asked Alex to do some asking around to see what he could uncover. But with so little to go on, Alex still didn’t have anything for him.

  Ben had only just set his cell phone back down on his desk when it starting ringing. Thinking it was Reese, he picked up before the second ring, a smile in his voice as he said, “Hudson.”

  “Ben, it’s Mike. There’s been an accident.”

  He knew, without even being told, that Reese had been involved. The blood drained from his face as he jerked to his feet, his pounding heart trying to lodge itself in his throat. “What happened?” he barked, keeping the phone against his ear as he grabbed his keys and headed for the station’s front doors.

  Mike’s tone was grim. “I was in town, having coffee across the street from where it went down. Reese is on her way to the hospital now, but it doesn’t look good, man. She was hit by a fucking car.”

  13

  BEN’S STOMACH ROILED, VISIONS OF THE ACCIDENT ON TUESDAY morning still fresh in his mind. Christ, not Reese. The thought of her delicate body caught up in a bone-crushing heap of twisted metal made him want to bellow with rage—but instead, he found himself silently pleading, repeating the same choked words in his head, over and over . . .

  Please, God, no. Please don’t let her be hurt . . .

  Ignoring the worried looks being sent his way as he raced out of the station, Ben sucked in a ragged breath and struggled to find his voice. “What road was she on?” he finally bit out, sunlight glaring into his eyes as he headed for his truck, the phone still pressed against his ear. “Was it a head-on? What the fuck happened, Mike?”

  His brother pounded on his horn and shouted at someone for driving like a jackass, then said, “She wasn’t in her car. She was getting ready to cross O’Neill Street on foot. I don’t know all the details. Just that a minivan knocked her into the air and she came down hard.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I’m on my way to the hospital now. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” Feeling like he’d had the goddamn ground ripped out from under him, Ben lowered the phone from his ear, shaking so hard he could barely manage to end the call. Fuck. She hadn’t had another one of those creepy texts since that one about flowers, and now this. Had she been hit on purpose . . . or had it been an accident? And why the fuck was the hospital al
l the way on the other side of town? Turning his siren on, Ben floored the gas, but the minutes that it took him to reach her were still the longest of his life. He’d seen accidents like this too many times not to know how much damage could be done by a moving vehicle. When it was metal against flesh, the body almost always came out the loser. The thought made him physically ill, but he didn’t have time to indulge in any roadside vomiting. He just needed to haul ass and get there as quickly as possible.

  He barely remembered parking his truck and running through the hospital corridors. There was nothing but a dark, suffocating desperation churning inside his head until he finally burst into her room, the irritated nurse from reception hot on his heels, and saw for himself that Reese was alive. Hurrying to the side of her bed, he swallowed back his panic as he did a quick visual sweep. “What the hell, baby? Are you okay?”

  “I swear it looks worse than it is,” she croaked, giving him a wobbly smile. “I’m fine, Ben.”

  “Like hell you are,” he growled, noting the scratches and bruises that covered her arms and face. And those were just the parts of her he could see! Carefully gripping one of her battered hands in his, he asked, “How the fuck did this happen?”

  “I don’t really know,” she told him. “One minute I was walking to my car, waving at Connie over my shoulder, and the next thing I knew there was this awful noise and all the air was shoved out of my lungs, really hard. When I tried to move again, I realized I was lying facedown on one of those strips of grass that line the streets in the center of town.”