Reason #3: He always knew how to hit her right where it hurt,
the bastard.
Olivia’s four best friends—Mia, Maggie, Jade, and Ivy—paused their jumping on the ginormous trampoline and stared at her, mouths agape.
Olivia just kept on bouncing and drawing from her beer while they processed.
“Did you just say he’s staying with you?” Mia spat, aghast. Her curly blond hair was escaping her ponytail, obscuring part of her face.
“He’s renting a room from me,” Olivia corrected. As she took her bounces, she added in a high kick, just for fun. But it was only fun because she pretended it was Ben’s face her foot was connecting with. “If anyone’s Pinterested any good recipes for poison lately, share them on my board, would you?”
“They’re doing some interesting things with naphthalene these days.” This was said by Maggie, mid-back flip. “I’ll hit you up.”
Later, Olivia would probably have to clarify that she didn’t actually want to kill the not-so-good sheriff. Considering how out of control Maggie’s trademark pranks could get, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume her crazy friend could take even a hypothetical poisoning too far. For the time being, Olivia could live in the fantasy.
“Is this guy really that bad?” Jade asked in the middle of a toe touch.
Since Jade and Ivy hadn’t grown up in Shell Grove with Olivia, Mia, and Maggie, they’d had to fill them in on all the messy details that entwined Olivia’s and Ben’s lives. Jade—the soft-hearted redhead with the body of Jessica Rabbit, minus a few inches in height—had moved to town last year from Washington, DC, and opened up her own beachwear boutique on Main Street. Ivy—the outspoken, ebony-skinned powerhouse—was from a small town in Georgia and worked as a dental hygienist at the only dentist office in town. She had married one of their best local boys, Graham, who worked on an offshore oil rig and was gone for two to three weeks at a time. And Jade had just married Mia’s older brother, Hunter.
“Not really,” Mia answered for Olivia. Since Olivia was still busy downing her beer. Damn, but it tasted good. “The only one of us he’s ever had a problem with is Liv.”
Maggie, Mia’s and Hunter’s cousin, was the wild card of the group. She had lived in a commune in California with her hippie parents until she was a freshman in high school, at which point they’d moved to Shell Grove so she could have a normal public school experience. She opened a dive and surf shop in town after college, and had a reputation for being a bit of a reckless adventurer. But always a well-meaning one, God love her. She had inherited her dark complexion from her Brazilian father, along with her long, raven hair. Her double Ds, well, those she’d gotten from her mama.
The scuba diving beauty executed a full twist that peaked at about fifteen feet in the air.
The rest of the women just stared at her.
“Must you make the rest of us look like amateurs, Mag?”
Maggie pulled a half-eaten Twizzler out of her bra and bit off a large portion. “What good was working at a trampoline park in college if I never get to show off the skills I acquired there?”
The Memorial Day Summer Kick-Off Carnival was an annual celebration in Shell Grove, though this year was the largest the town had ever seen. That was, in large part, due to the efforts and generous donations of The Sapphire Resort & Spa, which Mia had had a huge hand in. Along with the usual rides, Ferris wheel, live music, and various carnival games, they’d booked a giant trampoline for the event that, for a nominal ticket fee, kids could unleash their hellacious energy on.
There were no signs posted anywhere that said adults couldn’t jump. Olivia had never been glared at so hard by so many tiny humans half her size.
The little buggers could just deal with it.
They weren’t the ones who had to go home to Ben Crawford at the end of the day.
“Come on, Liv, you’re both adults now,” Jade cajoled. “Ever think about killing him with kindness?”
Ivy snickered while Maggie outright cackled. Jabbing her thumb at Jade, she cooed at Olivia, “She’s so cute sometimes.”
Olivia’s beer bottle suddenly felt too light. Empty already?
Aw. Sad clown.
“Listen, I’m not looking to avenge my teenage pride or anything,” Olivia insisted as she spun around and around and around and—mmkay, too much spinning. “I’ll stay out of his way if he stays out of mine. I’ve got too much to worry about at the B&B to concern myself with his juvenile antics.”
“How are the repairs going?” Ivy asked. They were about five bounces away from being flashed by her boobs that were near to spilling out of her top.
Olivia blew out a heavy breath. “The plumbing is holding for now. But the electrician says the breaker box needs re-wiring. And they stopped making the kind of freon those old air conditioning units use, so it’s looking like I’m going to have to replace the whole system. Which I can’t really do until my business loan comes through.”
“I thought you said the bank approved it?” If Mia hadn’t been wearing a pair of spandex shorts underneath her short dress, she’d be giving those disgruntled eight-year-old boys their first woodys.
Olivia sighed. “The bank is requiring a signed letter of intent from my father to show that he’s going to sell his portion of the B&B to me. There’s nothing for me to buy if he won’t sell, and the bank needs documented proof that it’s going to eventually be in my name.”
Mia’s face softened. “You two still haven’t spoken?”
“My lawyer sent him all the paperwork I need him to sign. Then I got a letter from him today saying he’ll only sign everything if I go see him in person. It seems the cost of me owning the B&B free and clear is a conversation with the man who abandoned me and brought my entire world crashing down in a single night.”
Everyone else stopped bouncing.
Everyone except Maggie, that is. She just blew an enormous bubble with her gum—where the hell did she get gum?—then laughed. “And you thought Ben Crawford was going to be your biggest problem.”
Leave it to filter-less Maggie to slice through the awkwardness.
Then her eyes suddenly widened to the size of ping pong balls. Her gum fell out of her mouth and plopped at their feet on the trampoline.
Mia’s face twisted. “Gross, Mag. The fact that this thing is riddled with kiddie feet germs isn’t enough ick for you?”
Maggie was staring off at something, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh, that ain’t the same boy. Nuh-uh”
“Who?” Ivy’s head swiveled around. “What boy?”
Maggie’s chin lifted. “I don’t remember the badge ever looking that good on Sheriff Lumberg.”
Olivia was glowering before her eyes even locked on the man.
“Because Sheriff Lumberg is old enough that wearing shorts with socks up to his knees is almost considered cute,” Mia quipped.
“He just had a sense of virility about him—”
“Great hellfire and damnation,” Ivy breathed. “That tattooed lady-killer over there is not your hated rival, girl. How can you be mad at that?”
Sure enough, Ben was surrounded by a group of people over by the zero gravity ride, talking and smiling like the man didn’t have a care in the whole godforsaken world. He wore the same black Belleville County Sheriff’s Department t-shirt from earlier, only with khaki utility pants that she recognized as part of the official SD uniform, rather than the faded Levi’s that had conformed to his tight backside so well. His tousled brown hair was shoved under a black ball cap, also with the SD logo on it, that okay, didn’t look terrible on him. His dark tattoos stood proudly on both muscled arms, and his surprisingly wide smile put all his straight white teeth on display.
He may have been catnip to all the single women around, but Olivia was far too familiar with the arrogant jackass lurking beneath the pretty surface to be fooled.
“Wow,” Mia exclaimed. “That…looks nothing like the Ben Crawford I remember.”
Which was true. The high school version of Ben had dyed his brown hair black and always kept it swept in front of his eyes so you could never really tell where he was looking. Or what he was thinking. He had always been on the fairer-skinned side, as if he never saw enough of the sun, and his clothes had always been dark and heavy, a nod to his obvious emo phase. Obviously, there hadn’t been any tattoos back then. And there certainly hadn’t been that many muscles. Back then, he’d just looked like a…boy.
Not exactly the case anymore.
Maggie let out a low whistle. “Oh, he all grown now. I’d spread ‘em and let him whip me with his baton any day of the week. Now I have real motivation for breaking Coors Light Carl’s record for most arrests in town.”
Mia stared at her cousin. “You need better goals in life.”
“Yes, okay. Yes.” Olivia felt agitated all of a sudden. “The man is easy on the eyes. But rest assured, that is the only easy thing about him.”
“I’ll say,” Jade whispered, practically salivating at the man in question. “Everywhere else is nothing but hard.”
Olivia rolled her eyes.
She would get no help from this crowd at the moment. Not while they were nursing their lady boners over the big, bad sheriff.
“I think your fifteen minutes are up, Miss Breedlove,” a perturbed nine-year-old—Porter Hopkins—pouted up at them. “You can’t hog this thing all day.”
“Your watch must be a little off, then,” Maggie sang back to him. “We’ve still got three minutes left.”
Porter’s lower lip jutted out farther. “I’ma tell Mayor Turnbill it was you who stole her lawnmower and blamed aliens and crop circles for the damage done to her field.”
Maggie didn’t miss a beat. As if she sparred with adolescents on the daily. “Yeah? Well, I’ma tell your mama that it was no stray rock from a passing car on the street that almost took your little sister’s eye out.”
Poor little Porter paled. “I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“So, that wasn’t you on my shop’s security camera being a little too cavalier with the beebee gun you got for Christmas? I’m sure your mama lectured you about always keeping the safety on.”
With a snarl that reminded Olivia of the time her neighbor’s chihuahua chased a squirrel for four blocks, little Porter angrily stomped off.
Mia heaved a deep sigh.
“What?” Maggie asked her.
“You realize you just threatened a nine-year-old, right?”
“Hey, if the youth of today want to dip their toes in the blackmail pool, then they need to do it right. I swear, public education in this country is appalling. If I don’t show them the way, who will?”
“Like I said, Mag…better goals.”
“I’m bounced out.” Olivia bounded her way to the edge of the trampoline and hopped off. “I hear the fried Twinkies truck calling my name.”
“You hate fried Twinkies!” Mia yelled at her retreating back.
“Meet me at the Typhoon ride in ten!” Olivia called back.
She was antsy. Being in such close proximity to Ben was sending her nerves into overdrive, which was absurd. If she couldn’t handle being near him out in the open with dozens of people buffering the space between them, how the hell was she going to deal with being under the same roof as him for an entire month?
She aimlessly wandered from booth to booth, food truck to food truck, really having no idea where she was headed. It didn’t escape her attention that the fried Twinkies truck just happened to be near where Ben had been chatting it up with some of their former classmates. But as she discreetly cast her gaze around the circle of food trucks after ten minutes of mingling, there was no Ben in sight.
Then God smiled upon her.
Her lips curled in a grin as she ambled toward the dunk tank where, wouldn’t you know it? Ben was lowering himself onto the narrow bench inside the tank. She swore the thing bowed under his considerable weight. Apparently, his back and arms weren’t the only places he had tattoos. His right thigh was covered with dark ink, stretching all the way to his knee. Which was not attractive in any way. He had changed into board shorts, a white Marine Corps t-shirt, and lost the hat.
The opportunity was too rich to pass up.
She watched over-zealous men overdosing on testosterone and flirtatious women fluttering their lashes at Ben all take their turns at throwing softballs at the small bullseye in an effort to dunk their new sheriff, but to no avail. After listening to Ben taunt his would-be dunkers, wishing them better luck next time, Olivia handed her tickets over to the attendant.
His chocolate brown eyes sparked with…something…when they landed on her. Excitement? That couldn’t be right. “Aw, Livvie. You wasted that many tickets on little old me? I’m touched.”
She tossed the first softball between her hands. “Who says it was a waste?”
He smirked. “P.E. dodgeball. And have you forgotten the Great Walnut War of 2009? You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a cannonball.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits, even as her heart took off at a gallop.
One afternoon when Olivia was fifteen, she’d been walking home from school. She remembered it being a particularly rough day, due to rumors of Jeff and Angie’s affair beginning to circulate. She had felt the silent ridicule of her classmates that day, even though nothing that was happening was her fault. Maybe what she’d really felt was their pity. She didn’t know which was worse.
Anyway, she’d been about two blocks from her house when a walnut came sailing out of nowhere and nailed her right in the thigh. She’d frantically looked around to see where it had come from when Ben himself appeared around the corner of an abandoned house wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. And not a happy one. Even now, she could still recall the cracks in his expression, the bags under his eyes, the brittle quality to that cocky grin.
Both of them had been going through the same thing.
Same pain.
She’d picked up on that almost immediately. So, when he’d thrown another walnut at her, this time hitting her on the arm, she’d decided to accept the out he was offering. The escape. Taking cover behind the old septic tank on the property, she’d gathered as many walnuts that had fallen onto the ground as she could and started launching them at him. As emotion had taken over, her movements became rapid fire. Her arm muscles had burned from how hard she threw them without really concentrating on her aim. It had just felt too damn good to…purge. Each walnut had harbored so many feelings, so many stifling emotions, that all came bursting forth like a dam that had ruptured.
She didn’t know when she’d started crying.
Silent tears had tracked down her cheeks as she and Ben engaged in their own private war. Only…people didn’t usually laugh when they were at war. He’d been cracking up at her pathetic attempts to hit him because yeah, her aim was atrocious. Before she knew it, she’d been laughing, too. Especially when one of her walnuts had scared the bejesus out of a stray cat and sent it screeching away.
By the time the walnuts were gone and their arms worn out, her mouth had still been stretched into a smile. They’d faced off across that vacant yard, two very similar adversaries just trying to make sense of an unfair world. She wasn’t sure how much time passed as they’d silently watched each other, but some kind of complicated bond of comradery formed between them that day. At least, that’s what it had felt like to Olivia. She had naively thought they had broken through a barrier, that maybe they could support each other through their families’ ruin. They could be there for one another, help shoulder each other’s pain. They could be friends.
Oh, how wrong she’d been.
The next day at school, he’d acted like he’d never seen her before in his life. Nothing at all had changed between them. In fact, things had only seemed to get worse after that day.
Regardless, the Great Walnut War had been a significant day for her. That day, Ben had offered her a reprieve from the crippling emotions she’d been drowning in at the time. He had distracted her, even lightened her anxiety a little. She’d gone home that day with less stress and more hope. She’d thought it had been the same for him. But he’d only been wanting to pummel her with walnuts. Go figure.
How different would things have been if they had chosen the same side instead of opposing ones? If they had each had someone who understood exactly what the other was going through? Would it have made things easier for both of them?
They would never know.
“No, I remember that day pretty well,” she told him with more vehemence than she intended. She wanted to play it off like that day meant nothing to her. There wasn’t supposed to be any inflection in her voice.
Fail.
Ben’s face abandoned all humor, his eyes darkening with something she couldn’t name.
Did he know what was going through her head? Could he?
Impossible.
That was confirmed when his infuriating smirk reappeared. He nodded down at the softball in her hand. “Hit me with your best shot, Livvie. Fire away.”
Okay. She hadn’t entirely thought this through. She’d always had extra—almost uncharacteristic—bravado around Ben. He just had an uncanny knack for getting her back up. How the hell was she going to save face if she missed the target all three times?
The first ball sailed right by the target, narrowly missing it by centimeters.
He quickly masked his momentary surprise with a condescending look. “You get contacts in the last ten years?”
Her fingers ran over the stitched seams of the second ball. “Or maybe I’m just extra motivated today.”
She threw the second one and missed again, though the ball grazed the target that time.
His mouth jumped. “Damn. You want to see me wet that badly?” He held out his arms. “I’m certainly not going to deny you your wildest fantasy—”
Her aim with the third and final ball was true.
He plunged into the water.
Suck on that, Benny boy.
The small crowd around the booth clapped and cheered as their new sheriff emerged from the water and swiped his hands through his soaked hair, slicking it back.
Her feet stutter-stepped.
Ah, hell.
Why did her plans always have to backfire? The image of his clothes clinging to every inch of his muscular frame had certainly never been a fantasy of hers. But she’d have to be legally blind to not notice how magnificent the man looked dripping wet. She knew the sight would be chiseled in stone onto her memory for all eternity, whether she liked it or not.
She closed the distance between them as he propped his forearms on top of the tank. Wait, why was he smiling at her? He never smiled at her. Other than right after delivering some crushing insult, of course.
“This doing it for you?” He waved down at his body. “The view satisfactory enough?”
Yes. More than.
She shrugged. “Part of me was hoping you forgot how to swim.” She wiggled her fingers at his sopping wet torso. “This whole thing is a little too Magic Mike for me.”
“What a coincidence because—”
“You became a stripper since you moved away?”
“—my pony is saddled.” Did his hips just do a little thrust underwater? “Wanna come jump on it?”
Whoa, whoa, whoooaaaaa.
Since when had their snippy exchanges turned sexual? Sure, he’d been making suggestive comments ever since that massage room. But that was just to throw her off her game, make her uncomfortable. Intimidate her so he could maintain the upper hand.
So…why did he look completely serious?
His eyebrows had the slightest waggle to them, but it was as if the rest of him couldn’t fully commit to the joke. The gleam in his eyes was burning with lustful heat he really wasn’t making great efforts to hide. There was no mistaking what that spark meant, no matter how unlikely such a possibility was. And when his gaze took a measured perusal of her body—holy shit.
Did he actually want her to ride his pony?
Ben Crawford couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. Not like that. It was one thing to appreciate the man’s physique or for him to think her ass had pleasantly filled out since high school. It was quite another for them to even consider laying down their swords long enough to take their fight to the bedroom.
They wouldn’t even make it through a quickie.
One or both of them would wind up dead.
But…maybe she should double check. Just to prove that her thoughts were completely off-base, so she could sleep soundly tonight without pondering over whether or not her newest tenant wanted to jump her bones. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for him to get a taste of his own medicine. If he was teasing her just to be an immature dickbag, then she could play, too.
“You did say you have easy access to handcuffs.”
His eyes slammed back up to hers. Studied her briefly. A little warily. “If that’s what you like, I’ve got a limitless supply.”
The pulse at her neck pounded. She prayed to God he couldn’t see it.
“My aim isn’t the only thing that’s gotten pretty good over the years,” she husked in a low voice.
Ahem. Well.
Her intention may have been to bait him, but that purry, sex kitten voice was completely unintentional.
His eyes flared as his hands white knuckled the edge of the tank. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking—wasn’t sure she really wanted to—but she knew without question she was shocking the hell out of him. Then…something happened. She didn’t know what prompted it or why, but that fire froze over to ice in the blink of an eye. His eyes lost all their life, deadening to the cold blackness she remembered from their youth. Before he even opened his mouth, she knew what was coming. Knew what he was about to do.
And she hated him all the more for it.
“I should have known you would like kink, Livvie.” Just the tone of his voice was crass. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time a Knight defiled a Crawford in this town.”
Her stomach sank, all the way to the bottom of the ocean, making her feel disoriented and nauseous. She and Ben had never been friendly toward each other a day in their lives. She shouldn’t be surprised that he would say something so cruel, so unfeeling. So hurtful. But she supposed that since he seemed to have made so many other changes in his life since she’d last known him, she was hoping he would have moved beyond stooping to those levels.
Foolishly, she’d thought him better than that.
She didn’t understand the colorless pallor to his expression as she backed away from the tank. Why did he suddenly look like he wanted to crawl inside a hole and die? He was the one who’d said it to her.
Oddly, he reached out for her, but she dodged his touch. “Liv, wait, I’m—”
“Go fuck yourself, Sheriff.”
She walked away with her head held high.
But when she heard him resuming his seated position atop the narrow bench, she abruptly reversed directions. She trudged right over to the small bullseye and slapped her palm against it as hard as she could.
The crowd laughed as he dropped into the water for a second time.
He could drown in his own asshole-ishness for all she cared.