Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(117)

His grin doesn’t falter with my words. “Sorry, ladies. The boss is here.” Their matching pouts are the last thing I see as I tug Ben out of the house, barely giving him a chance to deposit the remnants of his food onto a tray.

He hands his ticket to the valet and then pulls me into his chest. “Feel better?”

I heave a sigh. “Not yet, but I will.” I haven’t come to terms with any of this yet. Right now, I’m not sure that I’ll ever stand face-to-face with Annabelle again.

“Good.”

I’ve never used the word “dashing” to describe a person but right now, staring up at this blond man in his tux, his dimpled smile and blue eyes twinkling, that’s the only word I can possibly find to describe him. And it’s not even because of his physical beauty. Everything about him is appealing. Even his big, obnoxious mouth.

“Can we go now? Or do you feel the need to cause some chaotic scene to end the night off in Reese style?”

I press my cheek into his chest to listen to his heartbeat as I smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stare out at that tacky water fountain—a statue of a Greek goddess standing in the center of a small pool, surrounded by three-foot-high sprays of water and illuminated by blue spotlights.

And ask suddenly, “How cold do you think that water is?” Though it’s an unusually warm November for Florida, it’s nighttime now and the temperatures have cooled off.

“I’m guessing ball-shrinking cold.”

“Care to place a bet?” Before he even has a chance to answer, I pull away from him and run down the front stairs, kicking my sparkly heels off and leaving them on the steps. With one last look at Ben, who’s both grinning and shaking his head, I sit down on the edge of the pool, gather up my gown, and spin around to plunge into the water.

“It’s not that bad!” I lie, gritting my teeth as I wade into the knee-deep water until I’m standing next to the statue. “What do you think? Is this Annabelle’s fountain of youth? Is this Aphrodite? Should I beg her to make me look younger?”

The team of valets and a few party patrons watch me with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Ben takes the steps down with a broad grin, my shoes now dangling from his hand. “Nope. You’re not allowed to change a damn thing about you.”

“Well, I think you and she have some things to talk about,” I tease with a wink. “Why don’t you come in here?”

His head falls back with a loud bark of laughter. “Hell no!”

“Wuss.”

He regards me for a moment, his tongue running over his teeth slowly as he ponders something.

And then he kicks off his shoes, tosses his tux jacket onto the ground, and steps into the fountain. “I’m going to make you regret calling me that,” he warns with grim determination as he stalks toward me, the water no match for his powerful legs. I quickly scramble away, trying to dodge the cascades of water shooting up from the pool, but he’s too fast and his strong arms seize me in a backwards hug.

“I don’t have a change of clothes, Ben!” I remind him with a squeal.

“Neither do I, but you insisted, so I guess we’re in for a really interesting drive home, aren’t we?”

From my peripherals, I see a small crowd forming on the steps and flashes of camera lights go off, no doubt the invited media for the event. If Ben sees them, he certainly doesn’t care. Or maybe he does, and that’s why he hooks one arm around the backs of my knees and lifts me up into a cradle.

“Ready?”

“No!” I howl with laughter as I squeeze his neck tightly. “Don’t you dare let me fall into this water! It’s f*cking freezing!”

A strange look passes through his blue eyes. “Let you fall? Reese, you should know by now that I’d never let that happen.” His one arm pulls me in to lay a highly inappropriate kiss on my lips, given we have spectators.

And then he starts running through the ring of water sprays.

Drenching us both as we laugh and laugh.





Epilogue




BEN





“Damn, I can’t wait to get this tie off me,” I mutter as my fingers curl under the collar of my shirt, already damp beneath the suit jacket. I’ll be stripping down to nothing as soon as the pictures are over, if I have my way.

“Stop whining. At least it’s May. She could have picked July,” Jake reminds me, adding quietly as he wipes his brow, “and we’re all suffering with you.”

A quick glance at Rob and Josh confirm a light sheen of sweat on their faces. The four of us are standing in the shade of one of the oldest oaks on the property. Rows of white chairs, filled with family and friends, face us. A makeshift altar—an archway covered in orange blossoms—is situated next to us.

Just inhaling the scent calms me.

“You guys have done a ton of work on the house since Christmas,” Rob muses, his eyes roaming the big old plantation-style home in the background.

“It was a big insurance policy. Enough to cover the critical stuff.” I nod to our oldest brother. “Josh did a lot too.” Josh quit his job shortly after our dad’s death and moved down to be with Mama. The money from the sale of the woodworking equipment is more than enough to cover child support and alimony payments for the near term. He, in turn, has been a huge help around here, converting our dad’s wood shop into a packing facility and getting that up and running, to minimize off-site fees. He just celebrated his first year of sobriety last week and, though Karen doesn’t appear to be ready to reconcile anytime soon, she came down with their two kids this weekend for the wedding.