12. CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bennett was a fucking fool.

He let his dick do the decision making and had sex with a woman he barely knew—a guest —up against a fucking tree where any delivery driver could have spotted them.

Fortunately, the first ferry didn't dock on the island until six forty-five, so they were pretty much safe. But someone still could have spotted them.

Then, to rub salt into the wound—no, it wasn't a wound—it was a fucking amazing time, but now it felt like a wound … anyway, to add insult to injury or whatever, was the fact that they didn't use protection, and he came inside her. Then his cum started to slip out of her as she ran.

He was mortified.

And as hot as the idea of his cum inside her was—because if he wasn't full of shame, he'd be puffing his chest like a stupid silverback gorilla—they should have thought about the repercussions of their actions. He should have pulled out.

He should have done a lot of things differently.

Unlike when they started on their run and he didn't want the silence between them, despite how awkward it was to run back together, he welcomed not talking. Though it also gave him plenty of time to mentally flagellate himself until his brain was bruised and bloody.

This woman made him lose all rational thought.

He offered for her to stay with him, which was so out of character, then he fucked her against a tree.

He just made poor decision, after poor decision when it came to Justine.

She probably regretted it too, which was why she stayed in her room and didn't join them for breakfast.

Of course, the girls asked where she was, and Aya even went and knocked on her door—against Bennett's wishes. But Justine said she wasn't hungry and had some emails to catch up on. A lame excuse, but one he was kind of grateful for.

Like every morning, he and his brothers walked the kids to the bus stop and when Justine drove past them in her SUV as they were walking back, she waved, but avoided eye contact.

Fuck.

"What the hell happened between you two?" Clint asked as they trudged back, ready to start another day of work.

"What do you mean?"

Clint scoffed and gave Bennett an almost impatient look. "Come on. She avoided eye contact with you in the most obvious, but also awkward way. She waved, but it was … I dunno, it was weird. And you got all tense, too. Did something—" He gasped, his mouth dropped open and he stopped in his tracks, but not before giving Bennett a hard shove in the shoulder. You slept with her."

Dom and Wyatt gaped at Bennett.

Bennett pulled in a deep breath through his nose and dropped his gaze to his feet.

"When?" Wyatt asked.

Bennett lifted his head and glared at Clint.

"He's not denying it," Dom said with a smirk.

"When?" Clint said, repeating Wyatt's question.

Bennett rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. "This morning. While on our run."

" Our run?" Clint mocked. "You're running together?"

"Yesterday we found out we both run. So then today we figured we'd run together since we leave at the same time. I offered to leave after her, but she said no."

"So you did it while on your run?" Wyatt asked. "How the hell did that work? Fitness tights are impossible to get off, even if the woman is lying on a bed."

"Yeah, I know."

"Where?" Dom probed a little firmer.

"Against a tree a couple of miles away," Bennett said with exasperation.

His brothers all stopped in their tracks. Mirror-image, wide-open, codfish mouths on their faces.

"I'd expect that from Wyatt, even Dom. And definitely Jagger, but never in a million years did I think stick-up-his-ass, Bennett McEvoy, would have sex with a virtual stranger against a tree." Clint shook his head, then glanced up at the sky. "Nope. Sky's still blue." He pinched his wrist. "Nope. Not dreaming."

Wyatt and Dom snorted.

Bennett merely rolled his eyes. "It's not like we planned it."

"No?" Wyatt chided as they all started to walk again. "You're sure "sex with a guest" isn't on your color coded fridge calendar."

Bennett shot Wyatt a glower that was intended to make his brother's head pop off. It didn't work.

"I mean, you schedule everything else," Wyatt went on. "Hell, even I know you always take a shit between seven twenty-five and seven forty in the morning. After your run, and shower, and first cup of coffee. And I should not know that, but I do. Because you are a creature of habit and your entire body and life is scheduled. You're as predictable as the damn tides."

Heat filled Bennett's chest and cheeks as they reached the junction where one road took them to the pub and cabins and the other took them up to their houses. They all headed toward the pub and cabins. The work day started as soon as the kids were off to school.

Next week, when the kids were out of school for the summer, things would be a bit different. But every house had a walkie-talkie and the dads all had one too. So the kids could radio whenever they needed something. They were also free to come to the pub or kitchen or brewery and find one of them if they needed anything. Jagger was usually around to keep an eye on them too, as he worked from his home office managing the social media and event planning for the cabins, pub, and brewery.

"So now what?" Clint asked.

"What do you mean?" Bennett's gut spun with regret.

Clint looked at him like he just sprouted a second head off his shoulder. "Well, you guys had sex. She's staying in your house. She's also a paying guest. How are you handling this?"

"Wait, could this somehow be considered prostitution?" Wyatt asked, smacking the back of his hand against Bennett's chest. "She's paying to stay here. You had sex. Did she pay you for sex? Are you a gigolo now?"

Dom and Clint snorted.

Bennett spied his closed office door and picked up his gait to reach it sooner. "You're a fucking idiot."

"Not that I disagree with that statement," Clint started, "but seriously. What is the plan now? Are you guys just fucking around for fun? Or is this serious? That run back had potential to be awkward."

"It was," Bennett grumbled.

Wyatt chuckled and shook his head. "Jesus."

Dom exhaled and shoved his fingers into his hair that didn't have the man-bun in it yet. "And here I thought Clint hooking up with Brooke was complicated. You're fucking a guest and she's staying in your house."

"Only until Friday. Then the trailer is coming."

"And then the fucking stops?" Dom asked. "How is that going to work?"

"I don't know," Bennett exclaimed. "I don't know if there will be a second time. I don't know if she wants there to be. Or if I want there to be."

Oh, he definitely wanted there to be a second time. And a third. And a fourth. And fifty-sixth.

His brothers looked at him curiously. "Was it bad?" Wyatt asked.

Bennett rolled his eyes again and glanced away. "No. It wasn't bad."

"Then what's the problem?" Wyatt fished his pub keys out of his pocket.

Bennett shook his head and stared at the gravel parking lot for a half second before lifting his gaze to his brothers. "I feel guilty. She's the first woman since Carla and … I feel guilty."

Understanding dawned on all their faces, and their expressions of confusion and criticism softened until they disappeared.

"It was weird the first time after Jacqueline too," Clint said gently.

"Yeah, but at least you and Brooke are together now. In love. And you did it in your house like normal people. Not sex-crazed animals. What kind of respect does it show Carla—or Justine, for that matter—that I was unable to control myself and had to have her up against a fucking tree."

"Well, as far as respect for Justine goes, I think a woman would be pretty thrilled to know she got you so hot you lost composure and all rational thought and threw her up against a tree to have your consensual way with her. I don't think they're thinking too much about being respected when their back is being scratched up by bark and they've got their pants hanging off one leg." Wyatt shrugged. "That's just my opinion. And experience."

Dom and Clint both nodded.

"And as far as Carla goes … it's been five years," Clint said. "And even though Jacqueline and I had been on the road to divorce when she died and we hadn't had sex in over a year before that, it was still weird. But I wouldn't want her to be celibate if I died. I would want her to feel passion, and love, and lust again. Wouldn't you want that for Carla?"

Bennett barely nodded, but he nodded.

"Five years is more than respectable." Clint clapped a hand on Bennett's shoulder. "I know you no longer feel guilt when you feel happy, and that was a big step. But it's time to stop feeling guilt about other aspects of your life. About other things that bring you joy … and pleasure."

Wyatt nodded more enthusiastically than Dom, which was understandable. Dom and his wife Remy were high school sweethearts. They lost their virginity to each other and even though they broke up for a bit when Dom joined the marines and they slept with other people during those few years, they both claimed to have never loved anybody else.

They all took the death of their wives hard. Of course they did. But Dom seemed to take it the hardest. He was easily one of the biggest flirts, but it was all talk. Bennett was almost one hundred percent sure Dom hadn't slept with anybody since Remy's death. Bennett would even bet that Dom hadn't jerked off since Remy's death. Not that he thought about his brother jerking off.

He shook his head to clear that image.

"You need to talk to Justine," Clint advised. Wyatt and Dom nodded. "You need to figure out where her head is, and while you're working and she's gone, figure out where your head is."

"We can always ask Jagger to make up one of his spare rooms for her," Wyatt teased, as he went to unlock the front door of the pub. Dom followed him.

Bennett gave Wyatt another warning look, but it was to his back. Both of them disappeared into the pub, leaving just Bennett and Clint.

"Come on," Clint said, slapping Bennett on the back. "I've got a new batch of High Tide lager I want your opinion on. I can't tell if it's done or not."

"It's eight thirty in the morning."

"Yeah, but it's five thirty in Paris, so …"

Bennett snorted a laugh, but nodded, following his brother into the brewery and inhaling the heady scent of fermented hops and barley, along with the strong odor of industrial cleaner.

Cooper, Clint's right hand; and Gladstone, another brewery employee, were hard at work. Cooper was sparging the grain, which meant that he was rinsing it, which marginally increased the recovery of sugar from the grain. Gladstone was busy checking temps and writing them down on the log sheet. They each gave Clint and Bennett nods and waves before getting back to work.

"You're into her, aren't you?" Clint asked, pouring them both glasses from the big spigot for the fermenter. The beer was a dark amber color with just the right amount of foam. Even though Bennett wasn't the brewmaster, he paid attention when Clint spoke and understood the simpler parts of beer making.

They clinked glasses like they always did and Bennett took a sip. This allowed him a moment to think before he answered Clint's question. But he knew Clint wouldn't let him off the hook. He'd repeat himself until Bennett replied.

Licking the foam from his lips, he nodded. "Yeah. I am."

"And she's into you?"

He nodded again. "Yeah."

"So, then … figure out how to make it work."

"But it's temporary and unprofessional and—"

"I thought Brooke was temporary and now she's moved in and we're happier than ever. We know firsthand that life can throw really shitty things at us when we least expect it. So take the good when it's given to you."

"Is that your new mantra?" Bennett finished his beer. "Needs a few more days in the fermenter, I think."

Clint nodded and finished his beer as well. "I agree. And yeah, it kind of is my new mantra."

Bennett exhaled deeply. "She's a doctor, you know. A surgeon."

"Wow. That's cool."

"She's on sabbatical and not sure she wants to return to medicine. This vacation was supposed to help her figure things out."

"And here you've gone and banged her head against a tree that now she probably can't think straight." Clint's grin was cheeky.

"Or I've just gone and confused her even more. Given her another thing to consider and think about and fret over. Another thing to feel guilty about."

"What does she feel guilty about?"

Bennett shook his head to dismiss Clint's question. It wasn't his place to say anything about the patient Justine believed she killed.

"Well, while I have you here, I need to order some things." He wandered over to the wall, where a stained and torn catalog of beer equipment sat on a narrow table. There were dog-eared pages and a few pages with Post-it notes. He flipped to a page in the middle. "I need four new gas flow meters and six gas blow-off hoses. And I'll need a new mash colander by the end of the summer. But that's not pressing. I can wait."

Bennett grabbed his phone from his back pocket and took pictures of the items Clint needed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Appreciate it."

"Well, I gotta go see how the dehumidifiers are working on drying out cabin five. Cam Arendelle emailed me an estimate earlier this morning. It's pricey, but it's reasonable and below our deductible."

"So we're doing this ourselves and not putting in a claim?" Clint asked, even though it was rhetorical. Disappointment, but also understanding, skimmed his features.

"Yeah. We are. Cam said he'd help. And I'll work on it, and Jagger and … We'll figure it out."

Clint nodded. "I hope so. You're the money man. We trust you."

Bennett bid his brother farewell, then headed to cabin five. He could hear the hum of the dehumidifiers before he even reached the cabin. Hopefully, that noise didn't bother the other cabin guests. He unlocked the free-standing unit and stepped inside. Everything was still really damp, but it looked way better than yesterday.

Cam advised against starting construction until things were dry. That way, they knew exactly what needed to be replaced and what they could salvage and keep. The floors were probably toast, but they might be able to keep the kitchen cabinets. It was MDF, which was notorious for swelling in moisture, but when Bennett checked, the cabinets didn't seem too bad. The baseboards were warped and would need to be replaced, but things like the rugs and linens just needed to be washed and hung in the summer sun to dry. He had faith that they could repair the cabin under budget and not wind up completely in the poorhouse because of it.

He used the moisture meter Cameron loaned him to check on various parts of the cabin, then returned to his office to pay invoices, deal with payroll, and check emails.

The rest of the day dragged by and it felt like forever and a lifetime before he was walking with Wyatt to meet the kids at the bus stop. The kitchen was slow enough that Wyatt felt like he could step out for a couple of hours before the dinner rush to meet his kids and walk them home. Dom was training the new waitstaff, so he couldn't leave the bar. Clint was busy packaging up a huge shipment with Cooper and Gladstone for a liquor store in Colorado that was now carrying their beer, and Jagger was … nobody really knew where Jagger was.

"How was your day?" he asked Emme first, as she hopped off the bus before her sister.

"Fine," Emme said with a sigh. "Aya got into a fight at school though."

Bennett's eyes nearly popped out of his head and his stomach plummeted to his feet.

"I did not!" Aya shouted as she stepped off the bus, as angry as a wet cat. "I only punched after I'd been punched. That's called self-defense."

"Why didn't I get a call about this?" Bennett said, taking his youngest daughter's hand.

"Because nobody told a duty teacher. Nobody knows about it but me, Carnation, Emme and like three other kids. And they're not going to tell anybody. Sadie, who was one of the other three kids says that snitches get stitches." Wyatt snorted. Bennett smacked his palm against his forehead. "And Emme only knows because she is nosy."

"I'm not nosy. I saw you hit Carnation from where I was on the monkey bars. You're just lucky a duty teacher didn't see you."

Aya stuck her tongue out at her sister and scrunched her face up, her brows pinched together so tight they nearly kissed in the middle.

"Hey, we don't do that," Bennett said, squeezing her hand. "Be kind to your sister."

"She tattled on me to you," Aya protested. "Carnation is fine. I'm fine. See?" She swiveled her face side-to-side. "No bruises."

"She hit you in the face?" Bennett exclaimed.

"Yeah, but I hit her in the stomach because I know she's the flower girl at her uncle's wedding this weekend and will be in pictures."

Bennett didn't know whether to laugh, beam with pride, or shrivel in shame. So he remained stoic and unexpressive.

Wyatt was further back with the boys, and Talia was off in her own little world, reading the things written on her pink cast.

"First of all, Little Bug, we do not hit."

"But it was self-defense," Aya professed. "She hit me first."

"I don't care. It's up to you to be the bigger and better person and not hit back. If you can help it. If she's coming at you with wild fists, then block as best you can."

Aya glared at the ground. "She didn't cry. I didn't hit her that hard."

"Did you cry?" he asked.

"A few tears, but I was mostly just mad."

"Why did she hit you?"

"Because I told her to stop throwing rocks at a baby squirrel on the ground and she wouldn't listen. She told me to mind my own business, and I told her animals are my business. Then I tried to pull the rocks out of her hand and she punched me in the cheek with the other hand."

Bennett nodded. "Ah, so you touched her first?"

"Yeah, but I didn't hit her. I was trying to get the rocks out of her hands. There's a difference."

Bennett pressed his lips together and pulled a deep, fortifying breath in through his nose. "There is , but you still put your hands on her first."

Aya shook herself free of his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. She was in full-on pout-mode. He half expected a thundercloud to roll in and hover over her curly little head.

"I think I need to have a chat with Carnation's parents," he said, not wanting to break their connection, since that was how he kept her grounded, and placing his hand on her shoulder.

Her sigh wracked her entire body, and she shuddered at the end. "I know."

"Do you think this requires a consequence?"

She glanced up at him, her glare no longer deep enough to make her blonde brows kiss. Her expression relaxed. "Maybe."

"What do you think that should be?"

Her bottom lip wobbled. "I dunno. What do you think it should be?"

"I'm asking you."

Her brows knitted again. "And I'm asking you ."

They reached the junction for the two lanes and Wyatt flagged him down. "Boys want a snack, so I'm going to take them into the kitchen. You guys want in?"

Bennett glanced at the girls. "You guys want snack at home or in the kitchen?"

"Can we have spring rolls?" Talia asked.

Wyatt nodded. "Just made some fresh ones today."

Talia skipped over to Wyatt and the boys.

"I'm tired and just want some cereal," Emme said.

Aya was on the verge of tears now and barely keeping it together, so Bennett made the decision for her. "I think we're going to head home, but thanks. Enjoy the spring rolls." Then he took his daughters up to the house where, by the time they got there, he was carrying a bawling Aya, her big tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt.

He plunked her down on the couch in the living room and she shot her big sister a deathly stare as Emme hung up her backpack and got out her lunch kit.

"That's enough with the evil eyes," Bennett said.

"But she tattled and now I'm in trouble!" Aya shouted, before bursting back into tears.

Bennett sat down on the couch with his youngest, most sensitive child and pulled her into his lap. "I don't look at it as tattling. I look at it as your big sister looking out for you. Because either way, it was going to come out. Enough people know that this wouldn't stay a secret forever. Either I'm calling Carnation's parents or they're calling me. Emme was helping you by getting the information to me in case you decided to withhold it." He rubbed her back, but made sure his look was very fatherly. "Because we don't keep secrets in this house, right?"

Aya trembled, then sighed. "Right."

"So, we need to come up with a consequence because we do not hit. We do not fight. I am beyond proud of you for sticking up for the baby squirrel, and that you had enough forethought to think about not hitting Carnation in the face because she will be in pictures. But as clever and considerate as all that is, you still hit somebody. You still put your hands on someone else's body. We need to come up with a consequence so you think longer and harder about your choices next time."

His clever girl nodded. "Okay."

"What do you think about bedtime half an hour early and two fewer books?"

"So … seven o'clock and two books instead of four?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Her head bobbed, jostling her now-frizzy curls. "Yeah, that … that sounds okay. Not too bad. I can do that."

He squeezed her tight and kissed her head. "That's my brave kid. And for the record, I am very, very proud of you for protecting the baby squirrel."

"Do veterinarians have to go to college?"

"For a very long time."

Her frown was hilarious. "Darn."

Just then, the front door opened and in walked a sun-kissed beauty in a big beach hat. She wore a black bikini beneath a white, mesh-style beach cover-up, flip-flop sandals, and had a huge wicker beach bag, or purse, or whatever slung on her elbow. Her sunglasses were dark and huge and covered a large part of her face, and a rolled-up towel and water bottle stuck out of the bag-thing. She looked like the poster child for a day at the beach.

"Justine!" Aya cheered, leaping off Bennett's lap and rushing Justine to wrap her arms around her torso. "I punched a kid today at school. But only because she punched me first."

Justine had her hand on Aya's head and was smiling, but her smile dropped when Aya bombarded her with the news of her battle royale. Her gaze shot to Bennett, and she removed her sunglasses. "Are you okay? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. No bruises or broken bones. I'm tough. See?" She swiveled her face side-to-side like she had for Bennett. "And I punched Carnation in the belly."

"What happened?" Justine asked. She ditched her bag, hat, and sunglasses. Then dropped to a crouch in front of Aya, getting right down to her level. "Who would want to hit a wonderful little kid like you?"

"I know, right?" Aya said with a casual shrug.

Bennett smothered his laugh with his hand and watched as the woman he'd fucked against a tree that morning interacted so beautifully with his child.

"Carnation was throwing rocks at a baby squirrel, and I tried to get the rocks out of her hand, then she punched me. So I punched her." Aya was already on the mend from her earlier tears and taking the explanation the second time around in stride. "My consequence is early to bed and fewer books at bedtime." Her eyes lit up. "Can you read me my bedtime books?" Then a streak of panic flew across her flawless face. "Unless that's a consequence too? Dad?"

"Justine is a guest. We can't ask her to do—"

"I don't mind," Justine said. "I love reading." But she glanced at Bennett. "Unless it's part of her consequence?"

Aya's puppy dog eyes were in full-on attack-mode. He was a sucker for those eyes.

"I suppose not," he said slowly.

Aya cheered and Justine chuckled.

"We were just about to have a snack. Do you want to have a snack with us?" Aya offered. "Where were you? The beach? Which beach? Did you build a sandcastle? Did you put on sunscreen? What does it smell like? We like the orange blossom smelling one that sprays on. It's not too greasy, but you have to be careful not to get it in your eyes. Did you get it in your eyes? Is that why you were wearing sunglasses and a ha—"

"That's enough questions, Little Bug. Let Justine get in the house."

Aya pouted and let go of Justine's hand as Justine stood up.

"I did go to the beach. I went to Humpback Bay, and it was so warm and wonderful. I didn't build a sandcastle. I also didn't go swimming as the water was pretty cold and I'm a chicken." That made Aya giggle. "I put sunscreen on, but mine doesn't spray. It's a stick. And I didn't get it in my eyes. I was careful. You'll have to show me your orange blossom one. That sounds delicious."

"You can't eat it, silly," Aya said with a giggle.

Justine bopped her index finger on Aya's nose. "I know, but things can still smell delicious."

"Like barbecued steak. I like the smell, but I don't like the taste."

"Yes, just like that."

"So what'd you do at the beach, then?"

"I read and I napped, and I ate my lunch."

"That sounds really boring."

Chuckling, Justine grabbed her bag-basket thing and hat. "I'm going to go change."

"Come have a snack with us."

"I'm actually pretty tired. I think I'm going to hang out in my room for a little bit."

"But you napped. How can you still be tired?"

Bennett covered his mouth with his hand again. His child was relentless. She had a question and answer for everything.

Was Justine feigning exhaustion to avoid him or the kids?

He was watching her exchange with his child when she lifted her gaze and their eyes locked. Color flooded her cheeks, muting the adorable freckles that he'd dreamed of kissing last night.

"I don't want to intrude on your routine family time. I'm going to check some emails and maybe read a bit more."

"Justine is on vacation, Little Bug. We need to let her do what she wants to do. And if that is not answering a million questions from a seven-year-old, then she has every right." He got up from the couch and approached them, taking Aya's hand and pulling in that summery, citrus scent of Justine and the sunscreen.

Her shudder when his arm brushed her shoulder was small, but he noticed it. He noticed the way she sucked in a breath, the way her nostrils flared and she swallowed. He noticed everything.

"Come on, honey," he pulled Aya into the kitchen with him while Justine took the freedom to hightail it up the stairs. The snick of his bedroom door closing was like a gong going off in the house and caused that pit of regret in his belly to widen and get deeper.

He needed to talk to Justine about this morning and apologize.

He needed to talk to Justine about this morning and see where her head was at and if she was okay.

But most of all, he needed to talk to Justine about this morning and see if she was interested in doing it again, because the only time anything in his world had made sense in the last five years was this morning. In the woods with her. Inside of her. Lost in her and the moment. And as impossible as it sounded, he wanted to go back to that moment more than anything.