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Ben runs his hand over my arm in a light caress, the sympathetic attention he’s giving me in complete contrast to the man himself.
“He shouldn’t be touching you like that,” he states, his jaw tight, and I nod quickly, scared to say anything. If I do, my eyes will overflow, and I don’t want to cry. I have shed gallons of tears, and I promised myself no more.
He puts his arm around me then and pulls me across the leather seats to him. I sit in his embrace in the back seat of the car, feeling safe and protected. We drive through the streets, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Ben doesn’t push me for any other information, and for that, I am grateful. But the calmness within me fades as my mind drifts back to Jeremy. Now that he knows that I am engaged, and to who, he won’t stop until he’s won.
And I refuse to be his prize.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - BEN
She is right. I fucking hate this swimming pool. There is so much chlorine in this water, I think I have lost the first layer of skin from my body. My eyes are red and raw, and my fingers are all wrinkled—because I have been in this steam-infested pool with half the townspeople for the best part of an hour—and while Gavin, who I am trying to assist, is having a great time, I feel a migraine coming on from all the squeals that bounce around this poorly made structure.
Yet my eyes keep flicking to Emily. I haven’t seen her since our date during the week, but I have thought of nothing else since. We had a great time, and I was really looking forward to extending the evening further, at my place, with her naked, but that thought soon got cut off when I caught Jeremy Lucas with his hands on her. Even now, my blood is boiling just thinking about it, and I have a million questions I want to ask her. But she is a private person and didn’t seem to want to elaborate, so I let her be. She was shaking like a leaf, and I could see her trying to be strong, so it was all I could do to hold her all the way back to her place. Even then, I didn’t want to let her go.
Today, I watch her in the pool next to me, smiling and playing with the kids without complaint. She is in a conservative black one-piece suit, not at all like the string bikinis every other woman I know owns. Yet she is sexier than all of them put together.
“Going okay?” Emily asks, catching my eyes and gliding up to me. Rosie is doing a great job of doggy-paddling to the side of the pool and back, lost vision not deterring her one bit.
“You do this every weekend?” I ask her in disbelief.
“Every Saturday,” she confirms, standing next to me. The water where I stand covers me from my waist down, and as my eyes trail down, I get to see her fantastic breasts semi submerged, teasingly so.
“Why do you need to do it? Can’t their parents?” I ask as I maneuver Gavin around again and watch him as he glides to the side to meet Rosie, the two of them swimming and playing together now.
“Their parents have to work. Many work seven days a week to support their families. The kids come with us every Saturday morning, learn a new life skill, and spend time with their friends outside of the classroom environment.” I can hear the passion in her voice. She loves these kids.
“So you work six days a week with these kids?” I ask, admiring her commitment. Lots of people I know work long hours, as it is common in the city, but most of us work behind a desk, and weekends in the comfort of our own home, none of us combatting ten special needs kids in a warm, germ-infested swimming pool.
“It’s not work if you love it, Ben. What about you? I am sure you work, what fifty-sixty hours a week?” she prods, her hands skimming across the top of the water, her head flicking back and forth between me and Rosie.
“Try seventy or eighty. I work pretty much all day and all night,” I offer, never having really thought about my hours before, although my brothers and mother all tell me I work too much.
“That’s a lot. What do you do for fun?” I watch as she dips her body into the water, pushing her head back so her hair falls out of her face, then stands back up, her hair now long, straight, and wet down her back. Her face is fresh, natural, and without a blemish, glowing from within. Fucking beautiful.
I clear my throat.
“Golf with my brothers,” I offer, even though it takes me a moment to think of something. But I never miss a game with them.
“Wow, sounds enthralling,” she says sarcastically.
“What? Golf is one of the best sports in the world!” I offer, feigning offense.
“Golf is boring, Ben. What else do you do?” she pushes with an expectant wave of her hand.
“I have no time for anything else. Work, golf, and then go out with my brothers every week for drinks,” I murmur, noticing for the first time how boring that all sounds.
“Well, now you can add swimming to your weekly activity list,” she says with a playful smirk, tilting her head at me. “Want to race?”
“What?” I laugh, my smile stretching across my face on its own accord, mirroring her own.
“Last one to the far edge has to buy lunch?” I look to the far edge and back to her.
“Deal!” I say, but she is already off, her body gliding ahead of me before I bolt into action.
“Shit.” I am so focused chasing her that when I touch the edge, there is no doubt in my mind I have won. Until I come up for air and see her already there. I pant, trying to catch my breath, and she looks at me and laughs.
“You beat me?” I ask, offended.
“It was easy. You’re too slow.” Her grin is a mile wide, and I love it.
