Page 16 of Love Everlasting

Taking another belt of his non-beer, he winced, jaw still sore from the clip his ex-brother-in-law had landed at the marina.

Right after Ben had called him a questionable name and blackened his eye.

And right before Tess tore out of the marina office, madder than a hive of hornets.

Upending the can, he crushed it while the last dregs slid down his throat, groaning when he realized he’d just used the sore fist that had busted Cam’s chops.

Even so, his lips curved in a satisfied smile.

Never liked him from the get-go.

Guilt instantly wormed its way past his gloat. Real mature, Carmichael. Now the woman you love thinks you’re a street punk with a short fuse instead of her knight in shining armor, home to rescue her from her grief. Thoughts of Cam’s arm around Tess’s bare shoulders, of the sparkle in her eyes as their laughter filtered into Marv’s office, suddenly flashed, and Ben’s anger reignited all over again.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Tess,” he’d told her the night she’d put their relationship on hold over eight months ago, “and I will wait forever, if that’s what it takes.”

He grunted, the sound harsh in a night filled with the heavy groan of a bull frog, obviously as unhappy as he. “Yeah, well looks like I was the only one …”

Dropping his head on the back of the chair, he closed his eyes, his newfound faith suddenly niggling at the back of his mind. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain. Just popped your cork like she wasn’t the most important person in your world other than Lacey. Self-condemnation sandpapered his conscience.

Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.

The mangled can dropped from his fingers as shame curdled in his gut along with the warm beer.

Nope, he just went off half-cocked, spewing jealousy and bitterness like a sewer gone awry.

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger … be put away from you, along with all malice.

“Okay, okay, I blew it,” Ben snapped, “and I’ll fix it, I promise. As soon as I can talk to Tess.” He stared into the dark, his dock lights winking at him in the distance. “If I can talk to Tess,” he muttered, painfully aware she’d been avoiding him since the incident. Not coming home till late that night with Bozo, then gone all day today and again tonight. She was obviously still ticked because she hadn’t answered or returned his calls, texts, or emails, and with Jack and Lacey out of town, he couldn’t bug them to help him out.

No, he’d have to wait her out till he could catch her alone to apologize and grovel if need be. After all, he’d made his bed and now he’d have to lie in it. His mouth compressed. Problem is, I want Tess lying right next to me when I do, the thought came, the feel of the engagement ring he’d bought last year a lumpy reminder in his pocket.

Lights swept onto the street to indicate the approach of a car. But when they disappeared at Tess’s house, along with the sound of an engine that eased to a stop at her curb, Ben knew she was avoiding him still. Tess never parked in the street, always in the back of the house. Which meant she expected him to be lying in wait in his backyard for her to pull into her free-standing garage.

Wrong.

Lips flat, he strode to the corner of his eight-foot, Japanese privet hedge—the one he’d paid big bucks for eight years ago to shut the world out—painfully aware his temper had erected an even bigger barrier between him and Tess. Sucking in a deep draw of air, he attempted a casual stance as he leaned against the light post, hands in his pockets while he watched her retrieve her briefcase from the backseat. Slinging the strap over her shoulder, she carefully closed her car door with nary a noise, then turned toward her driveway.

And froze—body taut with surprise and stiffer than the wooden lamppost gouging his hip.

“A little late to be working, isn’t it, Tess?” He pushed off from the post and ambled forward.

She visibly sagged. “Oh my goodness, Carmichael, you scared the living daylights out of me!” Hand splayed to her chest, her rib cage physically depleted like a blood pressure cuff releasing its air. “What on earth are you doing?”

Hands still plunged in his pockets, he approached with extreme caution, wishing more than anything he could just reel her into his arms and kiss her like he used to. “Waiting up for the woman I love since she hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

She buffed the sides of her arms as if she were cold, a noticeable duck in her throat. “I’ve been busy, Ben, but we’ll talk soon, I promise.”

He reached to take the briefcase from her shoulder, and his chest cramped hard when she jerked away. “Yeah, I know—busy avoiding me. But I learned from the best not to take no for an answer, Tess, and how to deal with my problems head-on, so I’m afraid ‘soon’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’m not ready, Ben,” she whispered, clutching the strap of her briefcase like a lifeline.

His smile was gentle. “I wasn’t either, Tess, but I don’t remember you cutting me any slack.”

“Tomorrow.” She took another step back. “We’ll talk tomorrow, when we’re both fresh, okay?”

“Nope, tonight,” he said calmly, tugging the briefcase from her shoulder, “or I won’t sleep and neither will you.” He nodded toward his dock across the street. “My dock or yours—take your pick.”

“And you call me ‘pushy,’” she muttered, reminding him of all the times he’d accused her of being a rammy neighbor. Heaving a cumbersome sigh, she nodded toward his dock and slid by to head in that direction.