Page 33 of Just a Plot Twist (Tate Brothers #7)

Claire

It’s been nineteen hours since I’ve been with Benson, when he walked me to my car outside of his place.

And I’ve thought of him at least once every single one of those nineteen hours.

Yes, I dreamt of him last night, repeatedly, so I’m not exaggerating much. I’m on my way to see him now, and the steering wheel I’m tightly gripping is my anchor.

His kids are amazing, and the dog, the one he pretends not to like, is charming.

Benson is in my blood, the image and essence of him pulsing through my system. I can’t get enough of the dark eyes, the thick hair, the tremor of hope I feel when I’m beside him .

I wanted him to kiss me at my car door last night. I melded to him, body, mind and soul. That our lips would find each other felt inevitable.

Except, when he wrapped his arms around me, my heartbeat against his chest, there was a formalness about him, like he was holding something back. It took me a moment to figure it out, and I’m pretty sure I have.

The kids had just gotten settled in their rooms, which are both on the second floor overlooking the parking lot.

We couldn’t kiss. I’m not kissing Benson for the first time when there’s the possibility of inquiring eyes peering out of a window. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.

It’s like he’s still embracing me now, though, giving me blips of nerves—of fizzy, giddy excitement.

I shoot out a breath and steel myself as the Tate International resort comes in to view ahead of me. I feel my face hardening in resolve as I pull up. I’m trying, and mostly failing, to be open to whatever this is. As much as I shouldn’t get involved with him, here I am, driving up to seal my fate.

Because I do have feelings for Benson. Strong ones. There’s no going back if we kiss. It goes without saying: Kissing is a big deal to me—dating is a big deal.

So saying yes to seeing him again tonight? Big, colossal deal. Last night was all about attending a party for work and then gathering and taking care of his kids. We were together, but not exactly together . Tonight, he and the kids and I are going to hang out at the resort.

So, it’s still not a date in the classic sense because we’ll have the kids there. I’m glad about that, though, because there’s a certain light in his eyes when Dax and Indie are around .

And because sometimes it’s easier to have a buffer between me and my feelings for Benson.

Benson’s brother, Alec, former NFL running back for the San Antonio Wolves, has a whole complex of recreational activities set up at the resort. He asked Benson to bring his kids over for a complimentary stay to try out the new amenities, for their pre-teen and teen approval.

So yeah, I agreed when Benson invited me to join them just for the evening. It’s all good. The kids will be around the whole time, and they’ll help me keep my wits about me.

“Thanks for coming,” Benson says, pulling me into a hug in the hall and I’m instantly back in that place where I was last night, of hovering so close to falling irretrievably for this man.

His embrace is warm. I want to slide the pads of my fingers across his cheek bones.

I want to stare into his dark, dark eyes.

There’s something about us that feels natural together.

Besides, his blue, subtly Hawaiian button-down and board shorts go well with my casual white dress that is doubling as a bathing suit cover.

Yes, apparently, there will be boating later. Tate International has a new powerboat that guests can rent that needs some working in. But first, Alec’s big project: the recreational complex.

“I was excited that you asked,” I finally say, after I’ve sufficiently recovered from the hug.

This is bad. I can’t even hug the man without my whole being responding to him.

We walk up the paved trail to a short rise above the lake and to the north of the resort .

“Can your ankle handle this?” he asks, his eyes on my legs. A zip of excitement goes from my head to my feet and back up again.

I saw that, Benson. Maybe asking about my ankle was an excuse to check out my legs.

“If I take it slow, I’m good,” I say.

“That’s why you’re here in an observatory capacity. You don’t have to do any of the activities if you’re not up to it.”

And truth be told, I’m not. I’m wearing a new brace, and I’m not ready to play pickleball or basketball or run around the half-size football field Alec and his team put together.

He’s an assistant football coach for the high school and had his players do some volunteer work getting the resort field ready this spring.

And I’m glad it’s only Alec and Oakley up here with us. I’m not ready to be on full display for the whole family just yet—for them to analyze exactly what’s going on between Benson and me.

It’s mixed doubles in pickleball, with Alec and Indie on one team and Oakley and Dax on the other.

Benson, Cinnamon, and I sit at one of the covered tables.

I’m holding Cinnamon’s leash, but we’re in no danger of her going anywhere.

She’s out of breath, her tongue hanging out, after the short walk up the hill.

“Sorry about my gimp leg,” I offer. “If you want to sub in the game, I’m fine to hang out here with Cinnamon.”

“I want to be here with you.” He gazes at his kids. “I’ll join them eventually. Gotta show the kids who’s boss, you know?” Benson winces as Oakley misses an easy lob from Indie and Indie raises her fists in the air in triumph. “Alec and Oakley are going easy on them, though.”

“Well, they’re the new-ish aunt and uncle. It’s sweet. ”

“Which is exactly why I need to follow it up with a reality check.” He sighs. “I don’t believe in letting kids win all the time. They have to earn it.”

“This is a whole other side of you I’ve never seen.” I sit back and fold my arms, intrigued.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I mean, not when they’re super little.

But when they’re old enough to play for real, if you let them win, it’s like letting a dog win tug of war.

You’re setting yourself up for major pain and anguish in the future.

Kids can feel entitled, so you gotta keep ’em humble. ”

“I can respect that.”

Benson’s eyes light up. “So when they do finally beat me, it’ll be satisfying for them.”

“But you won’t feel good about it, Benson. You don’t like to lose.”

“What makes you think that?” He scoffs.

“I just know.”

“How?”

My lips twitch. “Because you’re quietly driven. And those are always the ones who hate to lose the most.” I lean to him and tap his chest. “It’s simmering under the surface, but it’s there.”

“Oh, there are things simmering under the surface, but it’s something else entirely.” Now his gaze is boring into me, and he won’t look away, a slow smile gracing his lips.

He’s right. Simmering is an understatement. We’re in a full-on rolling boil of feelings around here.

Finally, I tear my gaze away and look back at the pickleballers. “I finished my application. The council has already set up an interview.“

“I was just about to ask you about it. Well done.” He appraises me, his gaze showing his approval. I lap it up like Cinnamon chugging up water at the bathtub faucet.

He asks me about the interview, about what I’ll say if they ask this or that. Finally, I’m getting antsy. The more I talk about the job, the more I want it.

“So, it’s gonna be you against both the kids?” I sip on my fruity drink.

Benson’s lips twitch. “Sometimes we do it that way. And full transparency? I won’t be able to beat them both for too much longer. One-on-one? I’ve still got it in the bag for a few more years. But two-on-one? It’s a slippery slope and we’re getting closer to that moment.”

He grimaces, which makes me smile.

“Maybe the time is now,” I point out and laugh as Dax and Indie get a nice volley going, both Oakley’s and Alec’s mouths wide.

“Impressive!” Oakley says, right before Indie drops Dax’s lob.

“You threw me off!” Indie says, then bends her knees and shifts side to side, her racket raised and in position.

“Okay, she’s hard core,” I say with a laugh. “Maybe you should put her in tennis.”

“If she’s still interested next year, I’ll look into it.” His gaze goes to the table. “Hey. I had a good time last night. I appreciate your help with the kids.”

“It was a blast. They’re really good kids.”

Benson nods. “I’m lucky.” His phone vibrates, so he grabs it off the table. He groans and then shows me the screen. It’s a text from Mrs. Lambert, his landlady, saying that she’s extending her trip and asking if he can take care of Cinnamon for a few extra days .

“Dax and Indie will be excited about that,” I say.

He shrugs. “I mean, I have to say yes, right? What other alternative is there?”

“You can say whatever you want to her. But deep down, you’re secretly excited you get the dog for a few more days.”

He snorts. “I used to have peace and quiet on weeknights. Now I’m suddenly a vet to a dowager princess, applying various medicated creams and doing a song and a dance to get her to eat her pills.”

“Show me your song and dance.”

His lip curls before taking a drink. “No way.”

I scrub Cinnamon’s face. “How can you not love her, huh? She’s just asking to be loved, that’s it.” I make kissy faces and smooching sounds at her. “Don’t listen to that grump, okay, Cinnamon? You keep up your healthy self-esteem, you hear?”

He smirks at my cooing and then nods in her direction. “The Queen of Sheba’s self-esteem is fine.” Then, “How’s the trailways project coming along?”

“Things are slow. We need money. And it’s all on me now that Inez is officially gone.”

“You’re going to do great.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybes about it, Claire. Nobody cares like you do. The project is going to succeed.”

My stomach twists in doubt. “Thanks for believing in me. I hope the mayor agrees. What about the stuff with Peter Schiller?”

“My father is solidifying things with HR and legal. If they give the go-ahead, he’ll fire him any day now. ”

“That sucks for your father. This has been rough for him.”