Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family) Read online

  Just before Victoria’s bachelorette party, Sienna decided it was time for revenge, so she teased Christopher, telling him the girls hired a stripper for Victoria. I wish Sienna had filmed Christopher because her impression of a jealous Bennett brother was beyond hilarious. Eventually Sienna told him it was a joke, but only because she legitimately feared he’d crash Victoria’s party.

  I sip my drink quietly, wondering how it must be to have an overprotective brother or father. I don’t think I’d mind one bit to know someone has my back.

  “So, Clara, what have you been up to that you don’t want to tell us?” Summer asks. I choke on the mouthful I just sipped and am close to snorting it out through my nose. Luckily, I manage to swallow.

  “How did you figure that out?” I ask. There’s no point denying it. When the Bennett girls sniff you out, they sniff you out. They always sniff everyone out.

  “You’ve been too quiet,” Pippa explains. “You usually talk our ear off. How is living next to Blake?”

  “He’s a great neighbor.”

  “Unleashed his seductive skills on you already?” Summer bats her eyelashes at me, and I jerk my head back abruptly.

  “He’s been looking at you like he wants you for a long time,” Pippa says coolly.

  Now that they’ve straight up ambushed me, I have to ’fess up. I can’t lie to them, and lying by omission is still lying.

  “So, I went to this festival with him,” I begin.

  Summer claps her hands. “Was it a date?”

  “No,” I clarify quickly. “But that didn’t stop him from backing me up to a tree and kissing me like nobody’s business.” I clamp my mouth around the straw to keep myself from volunteering more information, such as how my skin is still humming at the mere memory of the kiss, or the shower afterward. How I’m buzzing with awareness every night I go to bed because I know Blake is on the other side of the wall. The girls would read into it. Hell, I am reading into it.

  “And?” Pippa urges.

  “And nothing.” There’s no way I’d share details such as the dirty talk because even I know that would be oversharing.

  “Wait, so you just kissed and then went home—together—and nothing?” Summer asks.

  “Yep.”

  Summer cocks her head to Pippa. “I thought Blake was supposed to be good at this stuff. Do you think he’s lost his game? Maybe he needs more help than we thought.”

  “No idea. So he hasn’t tried anything?”

  “Nope.” As long as I stick to one-word answers, I’m golden.

  Pippa leans back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the table. Just then, a waiter appears next to her, inquiring if we need more drinks.

  “Of course,” Summer says. We all order the same drink as before.

  As we slurp our cocktails and then order a third round, the conversation turns to what the girls have been up to. I’m becoming more suspicious by the second. Finally, after we’ve finished the third cocktail, Pippa leans slightly over the table.

  “So, tell us more about Blake.”

  “I knew it,” I exclaim. “I felt like you’d let me off the hook too easy.”

  “We were just waiting for you to have more cocktails,” Summer explains.

  “Yeah, thought that would loosen your tongue. There’s not much fun in one-word answers,” Pippa chimes in.

  They are good; I have to give it to them.

  “You like our brother,” Pippa says. “We’ve seen you around him.”

  “He’s a hard man not to like,” I offer. “He’s funny, kind, charming, has mad kissing skills and a dirty mouth.”

  I press my lips together, aware I already overshared.

  “Hell of a kiss, huh?” Pippa asks, then turns to Summer. “Our brother hasn’t lost his touch. He must have a plan.”

  “Girls, I’m not looking for anything but friendship.”

  “And hot kisses,” Pippa adds with a devilish smile. Damn Pippa for reminding me of that particular detail. I swear if I close my eyes, I can call to mind every single detail of those minutes. “I personally think you two are a great match.”

  “Hey, I called it first,” Summer says. “Right? At Alice’s engagement party.”

  Summer sighs, a dreamy expression on her face. And that’s when I realize why I didn’t want to tell them. Because of course, the girls would immediately think there would be an epic love story in the making. They are the most romantic people I know. I’m not romantic, but seeing them so excited gives me hope, and I don’t want that. I’m an optimistic person, but I don’t like to hope for impossible things, and least of all tie my hopes to one person. That has always, always led me to heartbreak.

  In the first year at the group home, I put all my hopes on Aunt Judith, my only living relative. I’d hoped she’d let me stay with her. But Aunt Judith never even visited. I went to bed every night that first year clinging to that hope. Then when I had that brief stint with a foster family I loved, I hoped again. That they’d want to adopt me or at least keep me until I was eighteen and could be on my own. That went south too. It hadn’t been their fault, but I still didn’t have a family. The second foster family was the final straw.

  They were not particularly affectionate, but they treated me right: gave me my own room, three healthy meals, and their house was very peaceful. I prepared breakfast every morning for both of them. I tended to their garden and helped with cleaning. I was supposed to only stay with them for two months, but I’d hoped they’d want me to stay longer. I thought I was doing so well. But when the two months were up, they returned me to the group home with a pink slip in my hand for our supervisor. I begged and begged them to let me stay, promising never to be difficult, telling them I could even move into the cupboard under the stairs if they needed the room (I’d done a recent reread of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and treated every word as gospel). They explained that they’d hosted me so they’d see if having children was for them and discovered it was not.

  I stopped hoping afterward. It wasn’t easy, but definitely less heartbreaking than waiting for someone to come and save me.

  Summer’s and Pippa’s voices snap me out of my thoughts.

  “Where did you just go?” Summer asks.

  “I think someone is replaying a certain hot kiss in their mind,” Pippa adds.

  I smile mysteriously in return. Better they think that.

  “By the way, before I forget, I talked to Sebastian today. He and Ava decided to celebrate Will’s birthday at our old ranch,” Pippa says. “It’ll be an overnight trip. Is that okay for you? I know it’s short notice, but they literally decided this morning.”

  “Of course it’s okay. Can’t wait to see the ranch.”

  It’s where the Bennett kids grew up. They sold the ranch a long time ago to give Sebastian capital to start Bennett enterprises, but he bought it back for them a few years ago, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennett turned it into a B&B. They still live in their San Francisco home, because it’s nearer to their kids, while the ranch is a few hours away.

  I love that they invite me to all family events, and I make a point not to miss any unless I have an emergency. Wouldn’t miss Will’s third birthday for anything in the world. As I wonder what the odds are that someone else bought him the same present I did, I catch Pippa and Summer exchanging a glance.

  Sweet baby Jesus, I know that look. It means they are plotting.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Clara

  “I can’t believe I’ve never been to the ranch,” I exclaim one week later, on a bright Saturday morning, while I’m helping Summer unload the boxes from her trunk. I’m beginning to sweat from the effort of it, and judging by the color in Summer’s cheeks, it’s no picnic for her either. She filled her trunk and back seat to the brim with party supplies.

  “You will love it.”

  We both let out a breath of relief as Daniel heads in our direction. That should make the unloading easier. He kisses both of us on the cheeks, then gapes at th
e car.

  “Summer, the party’s for one three-year-old, not ten,” Daniel remarks, shaking his head. Summer grins proudly. She requested to be in charge of the party, and this is the result.

  “I don’t do anything half-assed. Can some of the other boys come out and help?”

  Judging by the number of cars in the parking lot, everyone’s here already.

  “Let’s take what we can inside, and I’ll come back out with reinforcements. I assumed I’d be enough.”

  “Well, that was just silly,” Summer exclaims, shaking her head mockingly.

  Daniel carries one of the heavier boxes, and Summer and I focus on the bags in the back seat.

  I soak in everything as we walk the hundred feet or so from the car to the house. The ranch sits on a decent piece of land with dahlias blooming seemingly everywhere in a multitude of shades of pink, like one enormous painting. This is a terrific Saturday. It’s barely ten o’clock, and we have the entire day ahead of us. Noises reach us as we approach the house: the chatter of adults, the laughter of kids. The front door is open and Summer hurries inside, placing the bags on the floor, and then we both head along the corridor, following the noises.

  When we reach the living room, which opens to the back patio through a large door, I grin at the mayhem. Everyone’s here: Sebastian with Ava and their two sons, Pippa and her brood, Logan with Nadine and their son. They’re outside on the patio, chatting and chasing toddlers. I also hear Mr. and Mrs. Bennett (who have asked me numerous times to simply call them Richard and Jenna, but I’m still working on that), their voices coming in from outside, but they’re out of sight.

  Christopher and Max and their wives, Victoria and Emilia, are inside, sitting comfortably on the large couches. Victoria, who is five months pregnant, is currently batting her eyelashes at Christopher while pointing at her belly, and I can’t help wondering what she’s asking him. It must be surreal for another man to look exactly like your husband. Thank God, Daniel and Blake are not identical twins like Christopher and Max. One Blake is enough.

  Speaking of Blake, where is he?

  He drove here with his parents, which was how I ended up traveling with Summer instead of him. I haven’t seen him in all of four hours. How can I miss him already? He’s not mine to miss; I really should remember that.

  “Summer’s packed ten parties’ worth of supplies in her car. I need help unloading,” Daniel announces.

  Max and Christopher immediately follow Daniel out. Still no Blake.

  “You’re here,” Pippa exclaims, entering the house. “Come on. Let’s show you to your rooms.”

  Is it my imagination, or are Pippa and Summer exchanging dangerous glances? I try not to read too much into it as I follow the girls down another corridor lined with doors on either side.

  Summer opens one such door, mutters “mine,” throwing in her small backpack, then resumes her walk. We stop right at the end of the corridor.

  “Here’s your room,” Pippa announces.

  Stepping inside, I smile. The room is small and quaint, with a double bed taking up most of the space and a small vanity table in one corner. I notice two doors on the wall opposite the bed. One leads to the bathroom, I assume. The other one could be a connecting door.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

  “What d’you know? We’re neighbors again.”

  I swirl around to find Blake leaning against the doorframe, smiling broadly. He’s wearing slacks and a simple gray T-shirt, looking as irresistible as always. I try not to focus on the way the sleeves stretch over his muscle-laced arms, or how he seems to fill the entire space. He oozes testosterone, every inch of him masculine through and through.

  “You’re in the room next door?” I ask unnecessarily.

  “Yep. Had a flat tire on the way. When I arrived, only these two rooms were empty. Aside from the en suite, but that belongs to Mom and Dad.”

  Coincidence? I think not. I wonder which of the sisters came up with the idea to put us in adjacent rooms. My money’s on Pippa, because Summer was with me in the car. But when I turn, I catch Summer schooling her expression, trying to tone down her smug grin. Pippa nods at her appreciatively. There’s my answer. My gaze meets Blake’s, and we both burst out laughing. His sisters look at us startled.

  “You two are not subtle at all,” I inform them.

  “We weren’t trying to be subtle,” Summer comments. “Anyone else feel the sparks in the air? No? No one? Just me?” Pippa elbows her conspiratorially.

  “Just so we know,” Blake chimes in, “any other things we should look out for? Maybe Clara’s shower’s not working, and she’ll have to use mine?”

  I blush at the mention of the shower. Blake catches my eye, smiling and winking. We didn’t speak about what happened in our separate showers after the outing to the festival, but the tension between us has been off the charts since, and we both know why.

  Summer juts her chin out, narrowing her eyes. “No, even though that would have been a great idea. Come on, Pippa. Let’s get started with the decorations for the party.”

  With that, the two plotters head toward the door. Blake steps back, allowing them out, but then, instead of leaving too, he lingers in the doorframe.

  “Want a tour of the ranch?”

  “I’m helping with decorations,” I answer quickly.

  “It won’t take long. This place isn’t so big.”

  Truth be told, I do want a tour. This is a part of Bennett history I’d love to know more about. Besides, being with Blake in an open space is safe. At least safer than being inside here, in this small room where our hunger for each other seems to fill the entire space.

  “Sure.”

  “Want to change first?”

  “Nah, I’m comfortable like this. Let’s go.”

  We walk side by side in the corridor.

  “What are you doing?” Blake asks.

  In my haste to keep my distance from him, I didn’t realize I look a bit ridiculous, not to mention obvious because I’m nearly brushing the wall with my shoulder.

  Swallowing, I keep my tone even. “Keeping my distance from you. I’m thinking three feet should be enough.”

  Blake steps right in front of me, forcing me to stop in my tracks.

  “Babe, fair warning. Three hundred feet wouldn’t be enough.”

  My cheeks heat, and I try to focus on some part of Blake that won’t turn my knees to mush. I try the eyes, but they’re too molten and intense.

  Lips—too full.

  Shoulders and chest—won’t even go there. Eventually, I focus on my own hands, which are tugging at the hem of my shirt, even though it’s impolite not to look at people when you talk to them.

  Clearly whoever made up that rule has never been in the shoes of a woman trying to resist a very hot and determined man. Especially not one hungering for his touch and affection.

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not your babe.”

  “Yet.”

  Some men would sound over-the-top saying that, but Blake pulls it off and then some. And here’s the thing. If I dropped the matter and walked past him, he’d drop it too, at least for now. I do the exact opposite.

  “Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

  I know that if I push hard enough, if I challenge him hard enough, he’ll break and burn, making me burn with him. I shouldn’t want that, but I can’t help wondering: if one kiss held so much heat, what would he do if I surrendered to him?

  Blake’s eyes snap fire. “I had one taste of you, and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. It wasn’t enough for you either. Don’t pretend it was.” He leans in to me, bringing his lips to my ear. “You’re betting on my self-restraint. You might lose.”

  I rise on my toes, bringing my mouth to his ear. “Here’s where you’re wrong. I’m betting on your lack of it. Even though I shouldn’t.”

  His sharp intake of breath sends an arrow of heat right to my center. Sometime during
this conversation, I’ve moved from gripping the hem of my shirt to fisting the hem of his. You’re really winning this, Clara. Crap, I’m supposed to put a bucket of ice water on that fire lighting him up from within, not gasoline. I quickly drop my hands, sighing.

  Blake steps back, looking at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. I can’t believe I managed to actually catch him off guard. I only succeeded at the small price of giving myself away. Oh well, I can’t even bring myself to be sorry. You know you’re headed down a dangerous path when you can’t even tell your own priorities. With a chuckle, he gestures for me to walk in front of him, which I do, keeping a safe distance.

  ***

  “This used to be a barn,” Blake says as we step farther away from the main building and toward a much smaller one. I didn’t seen it when I first arrived. “Now they’ve remodeled it completely and it’s an extra wing. I think they added an extra story. I believe it was smaller.” He squints, sizing up the house. “I can’t believe I don’t remember. I used to come here every day. I was collecting eggs in the morning. Started doing it when I was about seven.”

  “Really? That young?”

  “The older ones had their chores, and I was competitive. Wanted my chores too.” He laughs. “That basket was almost as big as me. First time I did it, I broke half the eggs and cried. Daniel didn’t let me live it down for about a decade. Hard thing to forget.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Mom said, ‘If you fail at first, you have to keep trying.’”

  “Your mother is very smart.”

  “She is. It took about a week for me to stop breaking eggs.”

  I grin, trying to imagine Blake, only a few years older than Mia and Elena, wandering around with a huge basket. We spend the next half hour walking around the property, with Blake telling what used to be where, sharing anecdotes. I love that he trusts me enough to be so open with me and share a part of their childhood, of himself.

  “This is the oldest tree on the property,” he says about forty minutes later as we come under an enormous oak tree. It truly looks ancient—sturdy and wide. It’s slowly bent forward, enough to let you know it’s seen many storms and windy days. There is a swing hanging from it, and I immediately sit on it, swinging back and forth.