35. Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Benjamin
B enjamin longed for a fissure to crack open below his feet. Cowardly, sure, but it would be a quick escape so he could stop hurling cruel lies at Francesca. Unfortunately, he was stuck there. Forced to face this woman who he’d touched and worshiped and brought with him to the brink of bliss. They’d shared something deeply passionate last night, and he would have given his law degree to live in that rosy world of passion forever. But he knew the truth.
What he was capable of doing to her.
And so he decided to do her a favor and shield her from a potentially hazardous fate.
Not potentially . Inevitably.
So why didn’t he feel any relief from shooting her down? Protecting her from a miserable future? Was he making a mistake? He ached to reach for her. Apologize for being so weak and beg to keep her with him. Maybe he could be careful. Intentional. Remain diligent through the nights and weeks and longer. Should he even be considering this? He began to lean forward but halted as a smile sprang to her lips but didn’t reach her eyes.
“Ok,” she said with a suit-yourself tone.
“Ok?” What was happening?
“Yes. O. K.,” Francesca said pointedly and shrugged. “It was a one-time thing, and we can both go our merry ways.”
She turned and continued the laborious trek through the snowy terrain.
“You’re over it? Just like that?” Benjamin was taken aback by her easy acceptance. Was she really all right with things ending on this note? “Francesca—”
“You act like I haven’t had a one-night stand before. I’ve had plenty.” She paused and looked over her shoulder with casual concern. “But you might want to consider being a tad more upfront about your game plan with your next sexual partner. Chicks can get pretty pissed when they think there will be more than one round only to be left hanging with massive lady-wood the next morning.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, frustration simmering just below the surface.
“I’m not,” she continued as if he’d been talking to her, lowering her tone to mimic his. “A quick ‘You’d better enjoy this fuck, sweetheart, cuz it’s the only one you’re gonna get’ would have been nice.”
“Stop.” His command echoed along the walls of the valley but barely penetrated the pulse-pounding between his ears. He just wanted her to quit with the attempted retribution, not because he didn’t deserve it, because he really did, but because he was desperate to explain that he wasn’t like that. He didn’t screw around. He didn’t get hooked on other women and call them pet names. It was all her. Only her. And he was doing what needed to be done.
“One last thing,” she said as she spun around and wagged a finger in his face, cheeks suddenly pink from more than just the cold. “My brother and Lucy’s wedding is in three days, and I swear if you screw with it by either leaving quietly the night beforehand or acting all weird about this . . . this non-thing we had, I will go straight to the dean and actually ruin you. Am I crystal clear?”
At least they were in agreement on one thing: preserving the joy of Johnny’s big day. He nodded because he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his best friend’s happiness.
Satisfied, Francesca fell silent and Benajmin trailed behind, still reeling from the turn of events.
“I see them!”
The bellow broke through the awkward silence like dropping an armload of pots and pans in the middle of a library.
They’d spent the better part of the morning crunching through the smooth snow in a southward direction. Benjamin followed Francesca unquestioningly because he knew full well that she was going to be the one to lead them to safety. Maintaining a distance so as not to distract her or cause any more turmoil, he felt like dead weight as she surveyed the terrain, consulted her compass, and tested channels on her radio every few minutes. Eventually, as the sun beat down and their water supply dwindled, voices obscured in thick static sounded through the walkie-talkie.
Francesca’s beaming grin was short-lived, however, because the moment she turned back and glanced at her “snowshoe buddy,” the edges of her lips pulled down into a remembering frown. The way she looked at him pierced like a spear to the heart, and Benjamin wished ferociously that he could turn back time and keep his hands to himself.
Two bundled forms wearing snowshoes moved steadily toward them, sunlight reflecting off their jackets just as brightly as the surrounding snow.
“Any injuries?” a man in his early forties wearing a bright green jacket with reflective stripes across the chest called. Was his name Miguel? Benjamin recognized him from the welcome dinner and the start of the snowshoeing trip two days ago. God, had it only been forty-eight hours ago?
“None, aside from the little cut I got on my head from rolling ass over teakettle into the valley on Sunday.”
Maybe-Miguel nodded then stumbled to the side as Johnny, wearing a similarly flashy coat that was clearly too small, shoved past him, barreling straight for Francesca.
“Frankie. Holy hell.” He swept his sister up and hugged her tightly, her feet dangling a few inches above the snow. “We’ve been freaking out. I’m so glad you’re ok.”
“Woah there, big brother,” she coughed, arms pinned at her side. “Air’s super important.”
“Right, sorry.” He gave another squeeze and set her back down. “God, I kept playing out the worst-case scenario. It took Lucy, Miguel, and Zac to keep me from searching for you two in that storm.”
“I know the feeling,” Francesca said as she looked up at her brother with a sad grin. Was she referring to last year when Johnny had gone missing?
“And you,” he pushed past his sister, marched over to Benjamin, and wrapped him in an equally impassioned hug. “Thank you for taking care of my sister.”
All three men turned at Frankie’s offended scoff.
“She’s right.” Benjamin patted his friend’s shoulder. “She did all the work. I followed along and did what I was told.”
Johnny grinned. “Way to go, sis.”
“Thanks.” Her smile pulled tight with words unsaid.
“Here.” Miguel handed each of them a spare pair of snowshoes then relayed into the radio at his shoulder that they’d found the missing hikers and were due back in about an hour. “ This reunion is lovely, Jon, but I’m sure these two want to get back to town sooner rather than later.”
“You can fucking say that again,” Francesca groaned, glancing over at Benjamin then quickly back to the straps of her snowshoes as she clicked them in place.
Her expression said it all: The last two days didn’t happen.
And while he craved to take back everything he said about their encounter being a mistake, he knew he couldn’t. Because even if he decided to take the leap and risk her downfall, it was crystal clear he’d done irreparable damage. Francesca was hurt, angry, and perhaps even a little embarrassed. But fiercer than that, the loathing that danced in her eyes proclaimed her opinion.
He was nothing to her.
Benjamin let his gaze linger, taking in Francesca’s rosy cheeks, pink nose, and tangle of honeyed hair. He recalled contributing to those wavy snarls as he licked and touched then thrust into her. Imagined the heady passion rippling over her face as she threw back her head and moaned into the warm air.
A throat clearing beside him dissolved the memory.
Johnny studied him with raised brows, glancing from the surly professor to his younger sister. “Do we need to have a discussion?”
If he only knew. The discussion would be light on the words and heavy on the fists.
“No.” Benjamin shook his head and secured his last clip. “It . . . it was a lot. That’s all.”
A swirl of amber flowed in his best friend’s eyes, an almost identical match to the set he’d gazed into the night before. “Benji.”
“Johnny. Nothing happened.” At least that’s the way Francesca wanted it.
As the rescue party reached the trailhead with their mission in tow, Benjamin heaved a sigh of relief. A dozen people scurried around in the plowed parking lot under pop-up tents, talking on cell phones, prepping supplies, and folding blankets. An ambulance waited near the road, ready to cart an injured snowshoer to the hospital with the flick of a blaring siren. Miguel had called ahead and relayed the status of the two missing hikers, and having explained that they were both in good shape, the energy was less frantic panic and more casual damage control.
A cheer erupted as they were spotted coming around the bend. Other search and rescue volunteers gathered around to tend to whatever orders their fearless leader, Miguel, directed.
Benjamin accepted a heavy woolen blanket and a hot cup of coffee pressed into his hand. The caffeinated fumes and motor oil consistency warmed him from his belly outward. He watched Francesca accept a cup and snickered as she scowled after a tiny sip. Despite the upheaval between them, he was beyond relieved that she was back in safe and loving arms.
“Frannie!” A deep voice boomed from behind the ambulance.
Frannie?
Benjamin scowled at the massive brute loping across the parking lot. The man’s face screamed relief under his angular, clean-shaven jaw as he scooped up Francesca and held her tightly to him. Before he could reconcile the uniform and holster, Benjamin watched in horror as she intertwined her legs around his hips and arms around his neck, fingers plunging into his surfer-blond curls. One bulging forearm braced supportively under her rear while the other hand settled comfortingly against the back of her neck.
“I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you,” the sheriff cooed as he swayed with Francesca in his arms.
The few sips that Benajmin had managed prior to the heartwarming display threatened to come up. He swallowed to keep the coffee and his growing rage down where they belonged. He had no claim to her. In fact, he’d discarded her that very morning, not a handful of hours prior. Still, the sight of her finding comfort in the arms of that Goliath was nearly enough for him to march over to the good sheriff, slap him across the face with his glove, and demand a duel. But seeing as how only one of them had a firearm, and this wasn’t 1833, he clenched his coffee cup and turned away instead.
“Ya have a few minutes?” came the calm, steady voice beside him. Benjamin looked up, face to face with friendly brown eyes and a salt and pepper crew cut. Miguel settled a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I have a few questions I need to ask; all standard stuff. Figured now would be the best time.”
Benjamin pretended not to notice when the search and rescue lead glanced pointedly over his shoulder at the sappy reunion a few yards away.
With a sigh and a hopefully convincing grin, Benjamin nodded. “My calendar’s wide open.”
Miguel squeezed once more then led the way to the pop-up tent furthest from the scene.