Page 33 of Love Everlasting

Oh, goody. The shoe’s on the other foot. Tess glared at the privet hedge that separated Ben’s yard from hers, flipping a page in her magazine so hard, it tore in half. Her lips took a twist. And it’s pinching my feet along with my mood.

Which is exactly why she was barefoot at the moment, sitting on her patio in the dark with only a pale shaft of light from her open kitchen door.

For. The. Last. Stinkin’. Hour!

She lifted her feet to study the freshly painted Peach Passion on her toenails, nicely complemented by skimpy white short-shorts she’d borrowed from Cat and a snug crop top the exact shade of her toes. The same crop top she’d worn the night Ben had told her he wanted to be way more than neighbors last summer, when he couldn’t keep his eyes—or hands—off of her. Normally she avoided snug or skimpy anything, especially where Ben was concerned, but after two weeks of barely seeing him at all, she figured this was war. She’d even ditched the usual messy ponytail for the loose shoulder-length style he seemed to love because she obviously needed to remind him of just what he was missing by not coming around.

Glancing at her watch, she noted the late hour of eleven o’clock and huffed out a noisy sigh, her patience as thin as the flimsy page of her Better Homes & Garden. “Where the heck are you, Carmichael?” she muttered, more than a little peeved she hadn’t seen him all week and only once the week before for pizza on her patio the night the kids were gone. Even though the concept of “some distance” had been all her idea.

“What? I can’t see you till I meet your conditions?” he’d rasped after he’d walked her home following her ultimatum on the dock, the question laced with shock.

“Of course you can, Ben.” She attempted to soothe him with a gentle skim of his bristled jaw, her tone soft. “Once or twice a week for an occasional chat on your patio or dinner on mine when the kids are gone, but no official dating until you clear the air with Cam and no sneaking around like before.” She pretended to shudder. “I don’t like sneaking around—makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong. Besides, I think we need some distance.” She’d stood on tiptoe then to brush a tender kiss to his lips, feeling strong and confident and oh, so very in control.

Her mouth jabbed into a scowl. Unlike now.

Slapping the magazine on the table, she jumped up and started to pace, clearly more frustrated with her mandate at the moment than Dr. Doom, apparently. Just what did he think he was doing anyway? Yes, it had been her idea for limited time together, but for pity’s sake, she hadn’t expected him to comply, and certainly not so completely! She paused mid-pace with an awful thought, her heart slowing to a painful thud that nearly drowned out the rising hum and click of cicadas. What if he’d decided her demands were too high? What if he realized the occasional chat or dinner was more than enough? What if he came to the conclusion that she was too demanding to marry? Tess swallowed the lump of panic in her throat.

What if he decided to see someone else?

Pulse sprinting, she gnawed on her lip till most of her Peach Kiss lipstick was gone, the scent of her new lemon swirl body lotion—Ben’s favorite—as potent as her fear. Men didn’t like ultimatums, she knew, and especially a man like Ben, a virtual hermit set in his ways for the last eight years. Until she’d invaded his space. She grated her lower lip with her teeth, wondering when she’d turned into such an insecure, jealous stalker.

Uh, when he invaded my heart?

“Ben, where the heck are you?” she hissed, slapping a palm on her patio table, grateful her nine-year-old son Davey was spending the night at his best friend’s house while the twins worked a campout at Camp Hope with Jack and Lacey. Tears blurred in her eyes before she could stop them, and dropping back in her chair, she stared at the hedge with an ache in her heart. I miss you ...

Screeeeeeeech.

Tess froze, the sound of Ben’s slider sending her pulse into overdrive as his backyard light flooded the sky over the hedge like the dawn of a new day. Beau squealed and darted into Ben’s backyard before the slider squeaked closed again, and Tess tugged her top in place, ready to pay the elusive Dr. Doom a late-night visit. Palms damp and mouth dry, she snatched up the plate of monster cookies she’d made, promising herself she wouldn’t lose her temper. Nope, all she wanted to do was give him a smile as sweet as his favorite cookies and jog his memory as to what was on the other side of that stupid hedge. Head high, she marched right around that idiotic Wall of Jericho he’d put in eight years ago and entered his side gate. Her mouth took a swerve. The same gate that had once sported a padlock worthy of Fort Knox before Jack finally took it off after he and Lacey moved in.

Beau came running at the clink of the latch after she closed it, and unwrapping the Saran from two pieces of bacon, she tossed the treat into the air, Beau’s Underdog leap coaxing a smile despite her testy mood. “Enjoy, big boy, because one of us needs to.”

With a square of her shoulders, she strode right up to Ben’s slider, sucking in a deep breath before she practiced a bright smile. “Easy does it, Teresa,” she muttered, giving the glass the perky and friendly tap she’d employed so many times in the past. “The man’s done nothing wrong.” Except comply with my stupid rules. Smile in place, she waited.

And waited.

And waited, tempted to make more noise than Beau as he squealed. The lab nosed the door with a stream of pathetic whimpers that coincided with those in her head.

“Come on, Ben,” she mumbled, “you’ve got an antsy dog out here.” She rapped the glass with her knuckles, her frustration rising along with poor Beau’s. “Not to mention an antsy fiancée.”

Uh … almost fiancée, she reminded herself through a clenched smile, suddenly ticked that Ben had not only stayed away, but now he wasn’t even answering his stupid door. One hand cupped to the glass, she peered into his dark family room, spying lights in both the kitchen and down the hall. “Come on, Carmichael, I know you’re in there …”

Oh, how she hated what this was doing to her! Before Ben, she’d been content, happy-go-lucky, even-keel. She paused, the truth niggling over what Ben referred to as her “too perky” personality. Well, even-keel for the most part. But since Ben had left for his medical mission trip, she’d been calm, supportive, the height of maturity in getting her and her family past the heartbreak of Adam’s death. And yet the moment Ben returned, she’d lost it all, morphing into a hot-tempered, stubborn bully, and she didn’t like it one little bit. And now the thought of Ben pulling away, possibly pursuing a woman who was less of a shrew scared her silly, heaping jealousy and fear on top of an already volatile mindset.

Before she knew it, she was banging on the glass for all she was worth, eyes squeezed closed as she pounded on the door, determined to give Dr. Doom a piece of her mind along with her cookies. So help me, Ben Carmichael, if you don’t open up right now …

Screeeeeeeech.

Her eyes popped open when the door whooshed sideways on the track, interrupting her mid-air assault. “Tess! What a nice surprise.” Ben butted a hip to the doorjamb, arms in a relaxed fold that only accentuated well-toned biceps in a turquoise Polo. His deep tan and windblown sable hair salted at the temples suggested a day on his boat, ratcheting up her temper another notch while hazel eyes studied her with a twinkle. A lazy smile inched across lips that hadn’t kissed hers since her “nuzzle ban” a few nights after the dock discussion, when Ben wanted to pick up where they’d left off. Only she figured a man as hard-headed as Dr. Doom needed a little extra incentive, so she’d topped it off with no kisses, no lap snuggles, and no inside visits until he and Cam were as tight as ticks.

Yeah, that worked well.

The sparkle of humor in those mesmerizing eyes gleamed as bright as the flash of white teeth when his smile slid into a grin. “I’d invite you in, Ms. O’Bryen, but Tess’s rules,” he said with a slight shrug, his husky drawl laced with tease, “and I’m nothing if not compliant.”

She gritted her teeth, her smile as plastic as the Saran over the cookies. I’ll give you compliant …

“Are these for me?” He reached for the plate of cookies, and she jerked them away so fast, two of them flew off the plate despite the Saran, happily snarfed up by Beau.

“No!” she bit out before she realized what she’d done, her frustration festering out of control. She hiked her chin up, fire burning in her eyes. “They’re for Jack and Lacey,” she said, justifying the fib based on the fact that they did live in Ben’s house and she did bake them cookies on occasion.