Page 93 of Confessions

p; “Sure she would.” Erik let out a sigh of disgust. “She made it with him and she didn’t even know him, did she? Face it, she’s a slut.”

“Shut up!” Ben ordered, but not before Carlie could lunge at Erik.

“Don’t you ever—”

Ben grabbed her arm. “That’s enough,” he said with quiet authority aimed in Erik’s direction. “Maybe you want to apologize.”

“I just call ’em as I see ’em.”

“Then you’re blind!” Carlie said.

Eyes slitting as if he were sizing up the enemy, Erik glared at Ben but had the good sense to back down a little. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

“That’s more like it.” Ben’s gaze could have cut through lead and the smell of a fight filled the air.

Carlie could hardly breathe and she noticed that all conversation had died and a dozen pairs of eyes were trained on the two boys who were squaring off. She wanted to die a thousand deaths. “Leave Carlie alone, Patton,” Ben said loudly enough so that everyone got the message. “She’s with me.”

Erik flicked his cigarette into the gravel and ground the smoldering butt with the toe of his boot. “Your loss, man.”

Ben’s smile was crooked but self-assured. “I don’t think so.”

Carlie felt Ben’s fingers tighten over her arm and her heart pumped a little faster.

Scott spit into the scrub oaks, his eyes dark with disgust. “You can have her,” he muttered.

Embarrassment rushed up Carlie’s neck as she remembered the pickup ride to the Fitzpatricks’ lakeside cabin. She and Rachelle had ridden in the cab of Erik’s truck and Carlie, because of lack of space, had been forced to sit on Scott’s lap. She’d giggled and flirted with him, unaware that what was to happen that night would put her at odds with almost everyone in town—including Erik Patton and Scott McDonald.

She’d been naive then, younger and foolish and the thought that she’d actually been that close to Scott made her skin crawl.

She should have learned her lesson.

So what was she doing here hoping to catch Ben Powell’s attention? Didn’t she have enough trouble with Kevin?

The fingers clamped around her forearm didn’t move and her skin tingled slightly. “You certainly know how to create a scene,” he said quietly.

“Maybe I should leave.”

With a lift of his shoulder, he let go of her arm. The warmth of his fingertips left soft impressions on her arm. “Up to you.” His silver-tinged gaze touched hers and her throat caught for a second.

“We’ll stay...for a while,” she said, as the night closed around them and the fire cast golden shadows over the angles of his face. Someone had a portable radio, fiddled with the dial and the strong notes of “Night Moves” by Bob Seger wafted through the air.

“Good.” Ben stuck close to her the rest of the evening, but he never touched her again and any little flame of interest in his eyes was quickly doused when he talked to her.

She listened to music, nursed a beer, talked to some of the kids and always knew exactly where Ben was, whom he was talking to and what he was doing. It was silly really, but she couldn’t help the attraction she felt for him.

“He’s interested,” Brenda told her when it was near midnight and the party was breaking up.

“I don’t think so.”

“Definitely interested,” her friend maintained. “He watched you when he didn’t think you were looking.”

“Really?” Carlie whispered just as Ben left a small group of his friends and approached the girls.

“Need a ride?” Ben slipped his arms through a faded denim shirt. He didn’t bother with the buttons.

“We’ve got the rowboat,” Carlie said, managing to hide her disappointment.

“It’ll fit in the back of my truck.” His gaze touched hers for just a heartbeat. “It’s no trouble.”