Authors: Rachelle Ayala
~ Brittney ~
I never knew dancing could be so hot and intimate at the same time. Even though we’re surrounded by partiers and concert goers, Ben and I are practically alone in a dark corner of the barn.
Everything about him makes me quiver with wanting him, from his strong shoulders to his muscular arms and the way he holds me both possessive and sweet. I can’t help but lift my lips to his and kiss him, sweeping my tongue over the seam of his mouth, tasting and touching every tantalizing piece of his body as we sway to the twangy love song.
He truly is everything to me, and so much more. Never had I dared to believe a man so strong and powerful could be this sweet and tender—and honest. For some reason, he’s changed from closed and guarded, a hurt little boy grieving for his mother and sister to open and transparent.
What he said to me in the carriage was a true reflection of his heart, that he accepts me past, present, and future. I accept him too, all of him, inside and out, and I’ll do anything to show him. I move closer, plastering every inch of my body against his.
His fingers trail through my hair, and his scent infuses me with want and adventure. I never dreamed I’d be in love with a rugged cowboy football player—a man so alpha, he’d rather charm the panties off me than say he’s sorry.
But then, I’m okay with it. He hasn’t charged the stage or threatened his brother, and he’s even dancing and humming along with Nash’s sexy voice. Although I have to admit, Ben’s voice is sexier, rougher and just a little out of tune enough to endear him further into my heart—if that were possible.
The last strum and note ends, and Nash says, “All right folks. She truly is everything, isn’t she?”
The audience claps and shouts, and someone, probably Dad, trains the spotlight on me and Ben.
I shield my eyes, but Ben waves, used to the adulation of fans. “She
is
my everything,” he adds in his big, booming voice.
People around us clap his back and congratulate him. It’s such a great crowd, and it’s because Nash is the biggest draw, being such a superstar. I’ll have to remember to thank him for this, because it sure feels great when people are cheering and accepting me the way I am. It’s great to be liked.
Nash continues speaking on stage, “We’re doing great, raising money and awareness against slut-shaming. Please continue to pledge your support. We’ve already raised enough money to cover Miss Reed’s attorney fees, so everything above that will go to the local domestic violence shelter. While the money is great, it’s not the most important—the most important is a change in attitude, checking yourself whenever you’re about to comment about someone else or make assumptions.”
The audience cheers loudly, clapping and hooting, “No sluts. No shame. No sluts. No shame.”
Nash accepts their accolades and after the clapping dies down, he says, “As promised, I have surprise guests who’ll come up at this time to lend their support. You’ve already met actress Amy Suzuki, but I also have several football players who’ll give us a pep talk on why slut-shaming is for the douche-canoes. Please welcome Greg Marsh and Josh Carter from the Oakland Brigands!”
Ben raises his hands and claps, yelling. “Yeah!”
“You know them, I bet.” I catch his eye and he grins. “I’ve never had so much support in my entire life.”
“You deserve it.” He hugs me and skims a kiss on my forehead. “Everyone’s coming together on this, and it’s about time. No one should be judged or bullied for any reason at all.”
“You’re right. No one, and that includes you.” I palm my hand on his rugged jaw. “I have a confession to make. I assumed you were a player and that you slept around because you were an athlete. I also made negative remarks about the women who had sexual contact with you.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly a choirboy.” His grin is crooked but mellow with a tiny shrug.
“It shouldn’t matter,” I assure him. “That’s the entire point of this conversation. Your past shouldn’t matter.” I pause to let that sink in, then add as a warning, “Now, your future, that’s another story. I’m hoping it’s colored only by me. Inside, outside, off and on the line.”
“It
is
only you.” He leans his forehead against mine.
We’re so engrossed in each other, it takes a moment before I notice the cheers and then the sudden silence. I tear my gaze away from Ben and look toward the stage.
The large screen Nash set up behind him comes to life with the President’s image.
“The President? I can’t believe this. You set this up?” I prod Ben.
His mouth is wide and he shakes his head. “I wish I could take credit. This is all Nash. He sang at the White House earlier this year.”
From the overhead speakers come the President’s voice. “Some may think this matter is below my attention, but I’m here to bring you a message on judging and shaming. We as a nation are an accepting people and always rushing to aid and help those less fortunate. Yet at the same time, our exuberance can cause us to rush into judgment before we have thought things through. I have two daughters and too much attention is given to what they wear, rather than what they do and who they are. As we move forward as a nation, I urge you to check your attitudes about those who may be different from you and not be quick to judge and point fingers. We have all come from different backgrounds and our acceptance of those who are different is what makes the United States of America an exceptional nation. Thank you.”
The barn erupts with hollers and foot stomping as Nash takes back the mic and yells, “Can I get a big ‘Hell Yeah?’”
“Hell yeah!”
“And from the ladies, I wanna hear a bigger ‘Hell Yeah!’”
“Hell yeah!” the women scream.
“Okay, all you ladies who aren’t ashamed of yourselves, and that’s all of you, come up here.” He waves the mic and hands it to the first wave of ladies crowding the stage.
“What’s he up to?” I ask Ben.
He’s clapping and nodding. “You, go up there. Go, go.”
The intro sequence to the video of “Redneck Woman” scrolls across the screen. I get caught up with the swarms of women and we all link arms on stage as we bounce and jiggle and scream along to the lyrics of “Redneck Woman” ending with a big “Hell Yeah!”
The concert ends with everyone moving outdoors to watch a fireworks show. Friends, neighbors, and strangers congratulate me, Ben, and Nash, who’s holding onto Amy like she’s his date. After we’re done being swarmed, Ben shepherds me back to my parents’ house to pack an overnighter.
I can’t imagine how this night could get better, but forty minutes later, we enter the gates of a resort on the Marin Headlands north of the Golden Gate Bridge. As we turn onto the winding drive, the bridge beckons like a jeweled necklace above the tree line.
The interior of the lodge is even more spectacular. Floor to ceiling windows open onto an incredible view of the bridge and in the distance, the sparkling lights of the San Francisco skyline. The night is clear, almost miraculously so, and from our room we can see forever.
Am I being too mushy and gooey? Because when I turn to Ben, all I see is forever in his eyes.
~ Ben ~
Nerves couldn’t begin to describe what Ben was feeling when he brought Brittney into the bay view room on the top floor of the lodge. He’d borrowed money from Nash to pay for the room and the carriage ride earlier, but regaining Brittney’s trust was worth every treasure in the world.
“You like it?” He held his gaze on her gorgeous blue eyes.
“I love it. You really know how to spoil a girl.”
“You’re more than worth it.” He swept his hand under the hair at the nape of her neck, heartened to see the angel earrings he’d given her. He had another present for her, not a ring or anything that serious, but a token from his heart.
“You’re too wonderful to me.” She hugged him around his waist. He was half hard already, and if it weren’t for his nerves, he’d be raging hard, but first things first. He dropped to his knees. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Brittney gasped at the same time she shook her head. “A disclaimer already, Mr. Bennett Lee Powers?”
“Uh, no, I didn’t mean, I didn’t want you to think.” Sweat and nerves didn’t make a great combination when trying to woo a lady love.
She smiled and drew herself closer, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll take whatever it is that this looks like.”
“Okay, thanks. That makes it easier.” He’d already flubbed his lines, the ones he’d practiced in his mind on the drive over. Ben fumbled to unclasp the heart-shaped silver locket around his neck. He’d been wearing it all evening so it would touch his heart and hers, while they danced. Like the angel earrings, it had belonged to his mother.
Brittney remained silent and encouraging, gently stroking his shoulders while observing his every move. He took her right hand and placed the locket in her palm.
“My mom had this locket made by a silversmith friend of my grandfather’s. Open it.”
Brittney snapped open the heart and gasped. On one side was a picture of Ben as a boy, and the other side held a picture of Brittney as a girl.
“Where’d you get my picture?” Brittney asked. “Why isn’t your mother’s picture in here?”
“It was, but she’d always told me when I found you, I would replace the picture and put hers on a Christmas ornament to be hung near the top of the tree the year I found you.”
“But, how did she know I’d be the one in here?”
“She guided me to you, don’t you believe that?” Ben closed her hand on the locket. “I found this picture in the attic the night before our pretend Christmas morning. I knew it was you as soon as I saw it.”
“But this is a picture from second grade, when I had Mrs.—” Brittney clapped a hand over her mouth. “Mrs. Powers. Your mom?”
“She was a teacher, yes. She sent us to school in the next town over. I wish she hadn’t, because then I would have gotten to know you earlier.”
“I remember Mrs. Powers left to have her baby. That was in sixth grade.” Her eyes misted, and she wiped them. “She never came back, but we all thought she decided to stay home and take care of the baby.”
“They wouldn’t have told the students.” Ben’s voice turned gravelly.
“No, they wouldn’t have. She was my second grade teacher, the one who brought me out of my shell. I used to be so shy, I wouldn’t say a peep to anyone. She’d give me a puppet and said to tell the puppet to talk for me.”
“She’d be so proud of you now,” Ben said. “I’d like to think she’s looking down on us and approving.”
“Oh, she does. I know she does.”
“Then, may I ask you officially, I mean, formally, to be my girlfriend?”
Brittney held the locket inside her closed hand and scrunched her face, looking like she was considering his offer.
Sweat popped on Ben’s forehead as she twisted her lips, and rolled her eyes as if he’d asked her to solve world hunger or end all wars. She took a deep breath and let it out.
Her face looked too serious, or was that concern or worry that she’d break his heart? Ben steeled himself, ready for her to tell him it was too late, that he’d acted too much like an ass, and that while he was sweet to do all the things he’d done, it was beyond repair. The hurt he’d caused her was too great, and worse of all, he hadn’t apologized for his hurtful remarks. He bristled over the small inner voice telling him to say he was sorry.
She was the one who let me go, shouldn’t she say she’s sorry?
She opened her mouth and said, “The last time we talked about this, you said life was too uncertain, that
if
you wanted a girlfriend it would be me. What changed?”
Pain lanced Ben’s heart as it thundered like an avalanche of rocks into a deep ravine. She wanted him to explain the anguish of losing her? Of staring into a bleak future in a world without Brittney Reed? Of the jaws of death ringing his neck at a wasted life without hope or joy?
The seconds thudded by, and Ben knew if he didn’t say the right thing, he was doomed. He had no clue what she was after, and why she wanted to know.
The tiny voice said.
What about the truth? Ben, tell her the truth, and it might help to say you’re sorry. You were the one who threw the first punch, not Nash.
Ben held Brittney’s hand, the one with the locket, and pressed it to his lips. “Losing you, Brittney, changed me. I was always afraid of losing in love, so I decided not to love anyone. The price of love is grief, I told myself. But you found your way into my heart and for a short time, I found joy and happiness. I hoped you’d be the perfect woman for me, and when it turned out you weren’t, I took it out on you and hated myself for falling in love.”
Brittney gasped and swallowed, but she didn’t interrupt. That was another thing he loved about her. She was calm and collected, not prone to hysterics or flying off the handle.
He took a moment to regain his nerve and continued, “I lost you when you told me you were letting me go. But that made me realize that yes, the price of love is grief, but love is worth so much more that I’m willing to pay anything, including grief and a broken heart just to have a taste of it. I was already paying the price by being away from you.”
His heart pained as he recalled the agony of being cast away from her, and he could no longer avoid saying what he needed to. He clasped her hands and held them still. “You’re not perfect, and neither am I, but Brittney, we’re perfect for each other. I’m sorry I caused you so much grief, but I promise you that if you take me back, I will give you my entire heart and soul to love and cherish you. Grief is not too high a price to pay for something even better—true and undying love.”
She blinked and opened her mouth with a surprised smile. “You, Ben, are worth any price. I’ll not only take you back, I’ll hold you tight and I will never, ever let you go again.”
Ben rose and placed the locket around Brittney’s neck. She pressed her lips against his, and he kissed her with every ounce of passion he possessed. Finding that photograph in his mother’s things and reading what she’d written about each one of her precious students had been either a stroke of luck, or part of a master plan.