The Inn at Laurel Creek (6 page)

***

We took our time walking to the creek, Ben stopping to point out the lavender, honeysuckle vine and purple azalea bushes, all his favorites. He took a flower of honeysuckle and dragged his teeth
across it. "It's sweet,"
he said, dropping the flower and picking another one. "Here, try it."
He held it and I dragged my teeth over it.

"They are. I used to do this as a kid," I said.

"When I was a kid my mom and me would walk along this path, eating every honeysuckle we could find," he said.

"It must be hard not having her around."

"It is," he said. "But I've adjusted. Someone once called it a new normal, and really, that's what it is." He plucked a red wild flower and tucked it into the crook of my ear. "She's watching over me, though. I can feel her."

"I feel that way about my grandpa sometimes. There've been
times when I swear I've smelled his cigars, too."

"I smell her perfume every once in a while, usually when I'm
getting ready for a show, like she's there to watch."

"Do you perform often?"

"Occasionally."

I nodded. "Lou said you have groupies, so I was wondering."

"Yeah, I've played at a few bars in Atlanta a time or two."

"That must be fun," I said, "especially if you've got groupies." I
elbowed him in the arm as we walked.

He leaned into me. "Every singer who's performed anywhere has
groupies. It comes with the territory. I've learned the hard way
though that groupies aren't the kind of women I like to date."

"The hard way?"

"Yeah, made the mistake of dating a few and it didn't turn out well."

"Too bad for them. You seem like a pretty good catch, except for
the starving musician thing and all," I joked.

He pushed out his flat stomach, creating a tiny little bump,
barely
noticeable under his shirt. "Do I look like a starving musician to
you?"

I just laughed, afraid if I spoke, I'd ask him to pull up the t-shirt and give me a better look.

We found a spot and laid out the throws Lou packed, and I emptied the bag of the rest of its contents—bottled water, cookies, some cheese and crackers, two clear, plastic wine glasses and a bottle of white wine.

"Does she really think I have any room for this after that breakfast?" I showed Ben the wine. "And isn't this sweet! She gave us wine."

He examined the bottle. "Frogtown Talking Rock White. This is
good stuff. Sweet, with a hint of citrus."

"So you're a singer
and
a wine connoisseur?"

"I like a good bottle of wine, and this place is local so I know
their stuff. It's not that far from the Inn, actually."

"You're full of mystery, aren't you Ben?"

He pulled at the neck of his shirt, and avoided looking me in the
eye. "Nope. Not really," he said, plopping down on the throw. "What
you see is what you get."

I wasn't complaining because what I saw was pretty darn amazing.

He uncorked the wine, poured a bit into one of the plastic cups, swirled it, sniffed it, tasted it and handed it to me to try. I wasn't sure if I
was supposed to do the swirl and sniff thing too, so I just gulped it
down like a shot.

Ben cracked up. "Don't drink wine much do you?" He poured
more into the glass and some into the other glass too.

"I do, but I'm sort of a closet wine drinker because it's kind of a
soccer mom's drink, you know?"

 "If it is, then I guess I'm a soccer mom, too." He held up his
glass. "To new experiences. And soccer."

"Cheers," I said, clinking my glass into his.

We sipped the wine and then Ben took our glasses and set them aside. "I'd really like to kiss you again," he said, his eyes bewitching,
begging me to let him.

My breath quickened. "I'd really like you to kiss me again, too."

He leaned toward me in what felt like slow motion, making the simple movement seem to last for hours. When he finally touched my
cheek gently with his fingertips, my body ignited with desire, kicking all
five of my senses into overdrive. I tasted the scent of his cologne, something musky mixed with a hint of sweet. His breath warmed my lips like the gentlest summer breeze, sweet and inviting. His hair dipped just over his left eye and I brushed it away with my hand, letting my fingers caress their way down his face, onto his neck and finally resting on his firm shoulder. He removed my baseball cap, letting it drop to the throw, and pulled my hair from the ponytail, all without letting his eyes leave mine. The butterflies in my stomach did a replay of their earlier performance. I wanted him to kiss me, to stop my body from the torture he'd inflicted upon it by waiting, but he didn't. Instead he dropped his gaze to my lips and grazed them with his finger. "You have such soft lips," he said.

I rubbed them together, moistening them.

He flicked my bottom lip with his fingertip, and held it just barely open. That one provocative action had me shifting and squirming with desire. When Ben finally leaned closer and wrapped
my bottom lip
into his lips, I thought I would die. The passion and intensity of the kiss increased and he lightly framed my face with his hands, holding me for just a second, then sliding his fingers down my neck to my shoulders,
where he held on and pulled me closer. I wrapped my arms around
him, pressing my body into his and fully giving in to the taste of his mouth on mine.

When the kiss ended, Ben pushed back and gazed into my eyes again. "You're amazing," he said.

My lips trembled. I pressed them together and licked them to
keep them steady.

"Oh God, when you do that I want to kiss you again."

So I did it again. A low, rasping moan escaped his throat and with his eyes half closed, Ben pushed me gently to the ground, laying on top of me, my breasts pressed into his firm chest. He took
my head in his
hands and pressed his lips onto mine, feeding my desire for him
with deep, wet kisses.

My mind went blank.

We lay together like that, kissing, touching, exploring, but never letting our hands cross the line. My body was dying inside, hoping, praying we would rip off our clothes and make love right next to the creek, but we held back, though I wasn't sure why.

After a while, the kissing slowed and we held each other, letting our conversation wander in all different directions. Ben looped my hair around his finger, twisting and twirling it endlessly. Never letting his eyes leave mine, he said, "You okay? Would you like some more wine?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm good." My voice was low and throaty.

The corners of his mouth rounded upward. "You're beautiful, you know. All last night I kept watching you as we talked." He rolled over onto his back next to me. "That makes me sound like a
creeper, doesn't it?" he asked, running his hand through his hair.

"I don't think you're a creeper," I said.

"Good to know, but if watching you makes me a creeper, then I'm okay with it, because the way you tap your fingers when you're trying to find the right words to describe something…that's hot. The way you
push your hair behind your ear when you're really paying
attention… sexy as hell. The way you wiggle your toes when you push the rocker… it's all beautiful. I had to stop myself from picking
you up and taking you to my room so many times I lost count."

My pulse raced. "But you didn't."

"No, I didn't. I didn't want you to feel that's all I want, because it's
not. I'm not gonna lie, if you ripped off your clothes right now and
screamed
Take me
, I wouldn't turn you down, but this is something
more than that
to me. I've never felt so comfortable with a woman before. It's not
about just having a good time."

Ben lay up against me, turning toward me and leaning his body into mine. I could feel his heartbeat.

"What's it about then?" I asked.

He hooked his hand into mine. "You. It's about you. Just being with you."

I didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter because his lips were locked with mine again and every ounce of me was focused on that.

***

Ben strummed his guitar as I sat next to him, munching on Lou's amazing cookies and drinking my new favorite wine. He wrote notes on
a notepad, scratching out lines and adding others. Each time I tried to read it, he pulled it away, telling me I would have to wait until it was finished.

"That sucks," I complained. "I'm not very good with surprises."

"Well you're gonna have to get over that," he said. "Because this
one is for you. I'm writing it for you."

"Really? You're writing a song about me?"

"Like I said, you inspire me."

I flushed.

He kept strumming, the melody soft and slow. So soft and slow in fact that I was sound asleep in minutes. When I woke, it was close to dark and Ben was snoring beside me, his arm draped over my stomach.
I didn't want to move but my leg cramped something fierce and if I didn't, I'd end up limping the entire way back to the house. I gently lifted his arm off of me and rolled to the side, smashing a cookie in the
process.

"Damn, I would have eaten that." I quickly covered my mouth,
realizing I'd said that louder than a whisper.

Ben stirred and I froze, hoping not to wake him fully.

His eyes opened, and when they met mine, a sleepy smile filled his face. "Hey. I guess I fell asleep, too." He pulled me back toward him. "You're not leaving, are you?"

I didn't want to leave but the wine had made its way through my
body and was ready to leave. I really needed to use the restroom, which was quite a-ways away, back at the Inn. "Nope, not leaving," I said, stretching my legs. "Just needed to stretch."

He wrapped his arms around me and my body melted a little, molding itself into the shape of his. I nuzzled my face into his neck, breathing in his smell.

"Truth is, while I would really, really like to stay like this, I gotta be honest," he said. "I have to go to the bathroom." He gently rolled me to the side and sat up. "I'll be right back."

"No, wait," I said, getting up with him. "I have to go too, and I can't… well, I can't, you know…do what you can." I suppressed the urge to cross my legs but I really had to go.

He laughed. "Then let's clean up and head back. It's getting late anyway, and I'm sure Lou and Stan are wondering what you've done with me."

I hadn't done all that I wanted and was already regretting it, but I didn't say that. "Yes, I'm sure they're worried about you in all of your…" I waved my hand from his knees to his head, "…tallness,
because of
this scary…" I spread my arms out with my palms up, "…garden
gnome."

He put the empty wine bottle into the bag and flung it over his shoulder, and then his eyes traveled slowly and deliberately up my body, stopping when they made contact with mine. "There is
nothing garden gnomish about you."

I blushed from his words and the look in his eyes, and the heat traveled south through my veins. "We should go. It's getting urgent,
and I can't run in flip flops."

He saluted me. "Yes, ma'am."

We race-walked back to the house, foregoing the lemonade and cookies sitting on a tray on the porch and darting quickly to our rooms instead. "See you in an hour," I said, closing my door.

I took care of my personal business and lay on the bed, replaying the events at the creek in my head. Just thinking about it made my
stomach
flutter, and enlisted other body parts to pay closer attention, too. I realized then that I'd barely thought about Matthew since meeting Ben.
Sure, I'd talked about him, but other than that, he
hadn't crossed
my mind. I was mostly Ben-focused, and that made me a little nervous. My heart had already locked itself up in him and I didn't
know what to
think about that. I barely knew Ben. Sure, we'd spent a lot of time talking, but it had been just a day since we'd met. What did I know about him, really? Not a whole heck of a lot, when I thought about it.
Being in the mountains, in
a beautiful old house where nothing from our real lives interfered, wasn't like being in a relationship, but even though I was worried I'd
get hurt,
my brain was the only part of my body that didn't want to continue
seeing where things went with Ben.

I decided to go with the flow. How could I not? He was sweet, beautiful, talented and the most incredible kisser. If all of that ended up being a short-term vacation fling, then so be it. After all, that was
what I
thought he'd be good for in the first place, so why would I back
away? I wouldn't, and I didn't.

I got myself cleaned up and headed back to the great room where I
heard Ben chatting with Lou and Stan. His back was to me, so he didn't see me approach, and I stood in the hallway against the wall off the
entrance to the room, listening like a nosy schoolgirl.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said. "I thought my manager changed the meeting but I guess he didn't. And I don't want them coming here because I haven't told Carly about any of this yet."