Isle of Hope (34 page)

He stared, mouth hanging open in the faintest of smiles. “Are you done? Because I think I can dig up an old feather pillow and some tar if you’re not.”

She blinked, a hand flying to her mouth when she realized just how awful she’d sounded, attacking him more harshly than he had attacked her. She sank beside him and put a hand on his arm. “Oh my goodness, I am
so
sorry, Ben—I have no idea where that came from.”

His mouth quirked. “I do. The wellspring of bottom-line truth from a woman who calls ’em like she sees ’em. Which is one of the reasons I trust you so much.” He gently brushed her hair from her eyes, his facial muscles softening along with his voice. “There’s not many people who could get away with that, especially after I opened up to confess deep, dark secrets I’ve never told anyone before.”

Her head tipped. “Not even Karen?”

Melancholy shadowed his smile. “Especially Karen. She was the source of all my anger, all my distrust, and then when she and Adam …” He looked away, hardness sculpting his features once again. “I shut down completely. Turned my back on everything—God, family, friends.” His exhale seemed to go on forever before his gaze settled on hers. “Until you.” Affection warmed the smile that flickered at the edges of his mouth. “A blunt, opinionated, annoyingly perky and completely pushy woman who loves people—and ‘
cares
’ for them—” He reached for her hand, feathering her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, his smile as gentle as his touch. “Just the way they are.”

Pulse sprinting, she carefully tugged her hand free and moved away to face him head-on, opting for “blunt and opinionated” with a side of “pushy” to drive her point home. “You’re right, Ben, I
do
care for you just the way you are—pig-headed, stubborn, and totally clueless in the realm of love. And as a ‘completely pushy’ woman who cares for you, I believe that the truth spoken in love is not only the best gift I can give, but the most critical as well.”

She ducked her head to peer into his face, aching to see this man happy and whole. “I’m begging you, Ben—for your sake and Lacey’s—stop running away. Let the bitterness go and start over. It ruined your marriage and it will ruin your life if you don’t take a stand against it once and for all.”

He stared back for several seconds, face immobile except for the faintest flicker of a muscle in his jaw. “And how do you propose I do that, Tess?” he whispered, gaze guarded.

She sat back, hands on her knees. “Well, it’s pretty clear you’re not ready to forgive Lacey, Karen, or yourself, nor do I think you’re capable of doing so on your own. So I’d say the only place you can start is by getting back on track with God.”

“With God,” he repeated dully, his tone acidic enough to convey his disdain.

“Yes, with God, Dr. Doom, the only One capable of fixing this sorry mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Scowling, he burrowed back into the sofa with a stiff fold of arms, the veneer that settled over his features not boding well for her cause. “I don’t believe God exists anymore, Tess, and the only thing sorry about this so-called ‘mess’ I’m in is that the one woman I’m attracted to and would like to know better is playing hardball.”

“Oh, horse hockey,” she said with a scowl that rivaled his own. “You do so believe God exists, Dr. Genius, because guess what? You can’t
turn
your back on something that doesn’t. And as far as getting to know
me
better, the only way to do that is to know God better, so that pretty much nips us in the bud, now doesn’t it?”

She fought the twitch of a smile when his jaw began to grind. “Blackmail, Tess? Somehow as a God-fearing woman, I thought you’d be above that.”

“Nope.” She countered with a crisp fold of arms. “I’m a Christian, Ben, not perfect, something both of us have learned all too well in the past.” She bent forward, her jaw as steeled as his. “Get this and get it good, Carmichael.” She poked a finger against his chest to make her point. “ I will do anything short of highway robbery to bring peace and joy to the people I love.”

He gripped her wrist mid-air like a spring-loaded trap, snatching all oxygen from her lungs. “There’s that word again,” he said softly, his gaze burning as much as his hold. “I wouldn’t be tossing it around too casually, Mrs. O’Bryen, or putting your hands on me unless you mean business.” He skimmed the inside of her wrist before gliding up to twine his fingers with hers. “Your hand is sticky,” he whispered, eyes lingering on her lips while his thumb slowly circled her palm.

“I gotta go!” She shot up faster than one of Davey’s bottle rockets, so flustered, she darted into the kitchen instead of out the front door, bolting to the sink to scour her hands. Body trembling, she snatched a dishtowel from a stainless steel rack, head bowed and eyes closed to compose herself while she dried off, berating herself for agreeing to come over. “Talk about a lamb in the lion’s lair,” she muttered, spinning around with a squeal as something tickled her neck. Her body flashed hot when she realized it was Ben’s lips.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, caging her in, the smoky look in his eyes all but welding her to the spot. “I might be willing to negotiate, Tess …”

Her heart battered her ribs. “Yeah? Well, I’m no—” The gentle brush of his mouth against hers stalled the words in her throat, robbing her of both reason and resistance when his kiss intensified. Liquid fire coursed through her body at the rush of feelings she hadn’t felt in such a very long time. She wanted to push him away, but her insides melted into submission, rendering all resolve as limp as her body.

“So help me, I want you, Tess,” he said, his voice hoarse as he cupped her face in his hands. Hungry lips lured her eyelids closed when they locked a moan deep in her throat. Her breathing was as ragged as his when he moved in close, melding his body to hers.

“No!” She shoved him back, every muscle quivering with a painful mix of longing and fear. “I can’t do this, Ben—and if you persist, our friendship is over.”

He paused, chest heaving and eyes dark with desire. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she said with a thrust of her chin, “as much as I care for you, we can never be anything more than good friends and neighbors, not with the issue of faith in the way.” Arms locked to her waist, she stepped out of his reach, the threat in her tone more than real despite the awful tremble in her limbs. “I need your word this won’t happen again.”

He studied her, his face a stone mask before he finally expelled a weary breath. “All right,” he whispered, slipping his fingers through hers to lead her back to the couch. “Put your shoes on, neighbor—you need to go home.”

She did as he asked, avoiding his eyes while she tied a double knot in each shoe. Rising, she followed him to his front door, waiting as he opened it wide. Head cocked, she assessed him with a soulful gaze. “Do I have your word, Ben? Because I need to hear it before I go.”

Hands plunged in his pockets, he glanced up beneath dark lashes, a melancholy smile shadowing his face along with a day’s worth of dark stubble. “You have it,” he said quietly, slowly lifting an arm to gently trace a finger along the line of her jaw. “But I can’t help but wonder …” The wounded look of affection she saw in his eyes caused her heart to cramp in her chest. “Who’s running away now?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“For crying out loud, O’Bryen—you’re acting just like you did in eighth grade when Kayla Patek dumped you for the lifeguard at the pool.” Matt finger-shot a balled-up straw wrapper at Jack, the mini-cannonball ricocheting off of Jack’s temple—right next to the throbbing nerve. “I don’t think you went within 500 feet of the rec center that year.”

Jack scowled and itched the side of his head where the silly straw ball had hit, glaring at Matt while he parked as far away from the door of the church gym as he possibly could. He deserved to get slapped in the head with a real cannonball for letting Matt talk him into volleyball tonight. Somehow he’d managed to miss the last three weeks, coming up with some excuse or other to avoid watching some other guy fawn over the woman he loved.

Loved.
A sick feeling settled in his gut as he rammed the stick shift to neutral. Present tense, not past—a slow-motion revelation that had haunted him since he’d held Lacey in his arms on the dock over a month ago. He issued a silent grunt. Diving right back into his carefully guarded heart. He jerked the handbrake up, thumb drilling the ignition button to turn off the car. “I’m not up to watching Preacher Boy drool all over Lacey, so sue me, Ball.”

Matt studied his cousin with a sideways stare, his tone suddenly quiet. “Come on, Jack, you act like you still have it bad for Lacey, which doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been seeing Jasmine exclusively for a while now, sometimes three or four nights a week, right?”

The silence in the car was deafening as Jack slumped over the wheel, arms limp in a fold while he squinted aimlessly through the windshield. “Yeah.”

“Wait a minute.” Jack never moved a muscle when Matt gripped his arm, his voice laced with shock. “You’ve fallen for Lacey all over again, haven’t you?”

“Nope.” Jack punched the ignition button again to engage the car in “Park” and hurled his door open, slamming it harder than usual. “Not ‘again,’ Ball—
still
.” He started walking toward the building, forcing his cousin to run and catch up.

Matt halted him. “Jack, look—I’m sorry. I would have never badgered you to come tonight if I’d known.”

The edge of Jack’s lip curled as he cocked a hip, studying Matt out of the corner of his eye. “Who are you kidding? You’re relentless when it comes to pushing me into church, basketball, and coed volleyball.”

No smile lit Matt’s eyes, only wrinkles of concern etched beside. “No, man, seriously—I’m sick about this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jack shrugged, hands tucked in the pockets of the Rock and Republic jeans Jasmine gave him for his birthday. “Give me a break—your wedding’s next week. You got enough on your mind without worrying about your older and wealthier—
and
better-looking—cousin.”

A crook of a smile settled on Matt’s lips. “Older by six measly months, and if you’re better looking, then why am
I
the one getting married?”

Jack kept walking, rolling his shoulders to get rid of a kink in his back. “I don’t know—Nicki’s blind, maybe?”

“Or the smartest woman alive.” Matt fell in step again. “For the love of Lacey, Jack, when did you figure this out?”

Jack slid him a withering look that was all show. “Cute, Ball.”

His cousin stayed him again. “And for crying out loud—does Jasmine know? Because you two have been pretty hot and heavy the last month far as I can tell.”

A heavy exhale breezed from Jack’s mouth. “No, Jasmine doesn’t know, although she’s been complaining that I’ve been distant lately.” He tunneled his fingers through his hair with a loud grunt. “Distant, my hindquarter. I’ve been a million miles away ever since I comforted Lacey on our dock over a month ago, after a fight with her dad.”

“Oh, man, just like old times, huh?” Matt buried his hands in the pockets of his Levis, shoulders hunched in sympathy while compassion flickered across his face.

Jack scratched the back of his neck, head bent in resignation. “Yeah, only without the make-out sessions that always followed.”

“Look, Jack, you don’t have to be here tonight, honest. This changes everything as far as I’m concerned. I’ll just cover for you like usual.” Matt winced. “Although I’ll have to fall on the sword again with Lacey. She always chews me out over my ‘snob of a cousin who’s too good to hang with the peons.’”

Jack grinned. “Don’t worry, Ball—the little brat always saves plenty of grief for me whenever I see her.” He took in a deep draw of air, grateful for the reprieve that Matt was tossing his way. “Which, if I have my way, won’t be till the rehearsal.” He slapped Matt’s shoulder. “Thanks, bro, for letting me off the hook. I think I will head out, if that’s okay. Nicki’ll give you a ride home, then?”

“Sure.” Matt cuffed his shoulder. “I’ll be praying for you, man. This can’t be easy.”

“Thanks, Matt.” Jack turned to head back to his car, shooting a half-hearted grin over his shoulder. “As ticked off as I am at God right now, I think I may need all the prayers I can get.”

“You got ’em, bro.”

“Jackson Alexander O’Bryen—
halt!
”

A groan sandpapered Jack’s lips as he dropped his head, the sound of Lacey’s voice spurring him on at a quicker pace. He pretended he didn’t hear, fingers sweating while he closed in on his car, not ten feet away.

“Oh, no you don’t.” A star of the women’s track team in high school, Lacey was apparently still up to snuff as she skidded to a stop beside him, huffing and puffing while she blocked his door. “You are not going anywhere, bucko. We’re one player down ’cause Nate has the flu, so you need to man up, O’Bryen.”

Jack slacked a leg, arms folded with a patient smile. He tried to ignore how hot she looked in black biker shorts and a deep-gold Nike racer tank, the exact color of her eyes. The little brat actually had the nerve to jut her lower lip. “Come on, Jack, we need you.”

He sighed.
Yeah, I know the feeling.

Prodding his waist from behind, she started bulldozing him toward the gym, obviously no intention of letting him get away. He fought the crack of a smile over this pushy peanut of a girl bullying him towards the door. “Come on, Lace, I don’t feel so good.”

She paused, moving in front to assess him through narrow eyes. “You look fine to me—what’s wrong with you?”

Heartburn, you little brat.
He rubbed the center of his chest.
The lovesick kind.
“Uh, I don’t know, acid reflux, maybe?”

“Good.” She looped her arm through his and continued to drag him toward the building. “I have Pepcid AC in my purse, so we’ll fix you right up.”

Jack groaned to cover up the chuckle on the tip of his tongue. “Were you this pushy when we were going together, Mike? Because if you were, I must have been a real wuss.”

“More,” she said, grunting as she opened the door and pushed him through. “And for your information, O’Bryen, you’re still a wuss.” She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something bad. “Just ask Jasmine.”

“Jack—you’re here!” Kelly wasted no time glomming onto him, tighter than Lacey’s Spandex pants. “We’ve missed you, big boy.”

“Good to see you again, Jack.” Chase flashed a set of perfect teeth as he extended a hand, pumping Jack’s arm like he was his long-lost brother. “We could use a little fresh blood,” he said, bobbling the volleyball back and forth. He paused to dispense a Gibb’s flick to the back of Matt’s head, muscles rolling along with the ball in his hands. “Your cousin is a little too close to the wedding to be much good at anything but mooning over Nicki.”

“As it should be,” Nicki said with a snooty lift of her nose, snaking an arm around her fiancé’s waist. She gave Jack a coy wink. “We need some extra manpower on our team tonight since Matt’s head is in the clouds, obviously spellbound by his future wife.”

“Hey …” Matt scooped Nicki close to nibble at the lobe of her ear, causing her to squeal. “It’s that provocative perfume you dab behind your ears, you little vamp, that weakens my skill at the game, like Samson and Delilah.”

Jack chuckled while he loosened his polo from the waist of his jeans, breaking Kelly’s hold when he flipped his shirt out for more freedom to move. “You gotta have some skill in the first place, Ball, before it can be weakened.” He clasped his hands high overhead, stretching to limber up as he slanted a smile at Lacey. “And don’t go counting on me for manpower—somebody just called me a wuss.”

Lacey’s chin shot up. “That’s because you were being a baby, Dr. Jock, whining about heartburn when you know we need your help.”

“Mmm … wuss, baby, whiner?” Chase took his position on the other side of the net along with Justin and Kelly and the rest of their team. “Sounds like a rift on the team that we’ll be glad to exploit. Belly up to the net, ladies and gentlemen, and we’ll serve up a little crow.”

Matt circled an arm over both Lacey’s and Jack’s shoulders, leading them to their side of the net with an evil grin. “Think you two can kiss and make up long enough to score us a win? Ouch!” He grabbed his side where Jack speared him with an elbow, pretending offense despite the gleam of tease in his eyes. “Hey, man, that’s my serving side.” He sauntered off to the front of the net, but not before delivering another cocky grin. “Now
that’s
the kind of punch we need tonight, O’Bryen, so let’s give it all the pent-up fury you’ve got.”

And give it he did, dominating the first two games with powerful serves that even pretty-boy preacher had trouble sending back his way.

“Yes!
Perfect kill, Doctor Jock,” Lacey shouted, leaping into the air when Jack aced the final point to score the third win of the night. She high-fived Sarah and Nicki while Chase ambled over to shake Jack’s hand.

“I forgot just how deadly you could be, O’Bryen,” Preacher Boy said with a gleam of white, scuffing the back of his neck.

“And with acid reflux, too.” Lacey sashayed over with her hands on her hips.

Chase tossed the ball back and forth with a genuine smile. “Well, that does wonders for my humility, I suppose, so I guess I owe you my thanks.”

“We need to celebrate!” Lacey hooked her arm through Jack’s. “This calls for pizza at the best—Sweet Melissa’s!”

Jack eased his arm free of Lacey’s, hoping to placate her with his it’s-going-to-be-okay doctor smile he’d perfected in residency. “Sorry, Lace, but I have an early day tomorrow—office meeting at the crack of dawn before the first appointments of the day.”

“Oh, poop!” Her brows crashed into a little-girl frown that was so adorable, he was tempted to kiss her forehead and send her home with a lollipop. “But it won’t be the same without you, Jack—you’re our MVP. And you got by fine in residency with little or no sleep, right?”

He couldn’t resist. He tapped her on the nose. “Yes, but I’m also working extra hours since I’m taking off Thursday and Friday for the wedding, remember? Besides, it’s more like MBP—most bleary-eyed player, so I really need to go home.”

“Double poop,” she muttered, sidling over to stand next to Chase with a pouty fold of her arms. “Okay, but Melissa’s has always been your favorite, Brye, so I hope you know what you’re missing.”

Uh, wouldn’t worry about that ..
. He managed a smile.
And we’re not talkin’ pizza
. Giving her a wink, he shouted his goodbyes to the group and made his way to the door, grateful for the brisk breeze that cooled the sweat at the back of his neck.

“Hey, Jack!”

He glanced over his shoulder, fighting the scowl that itched to break free. Chase caught up with him in an easy sprint, complete with the warm smile he always wore on his perfect Abercrombie face. “I know you have to get going, but can you spare a few minutes?”

Jack paused, the hint of a frown digging deep at the bridge of his nose. “Uh … I guess so, sure.” He turned to walk back to where Chase stood about ten feet away, glancing at his watch for good measure. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d help me lug a few boxes from the church lobby up to the second-floor nursery—new cribs, changing tables, you know, delivered today.”

Brows in a scrunch, Jack hesitated, wondering why in the heck the pretty-boy pastor needed him with plenty of able-bodied guys still inside.

As if reading his mind, Chase shifted, hands propped loose on his hips. “Seems like the gang’s pretty anxious to head out after tearing down the nets, so I hate to ask them. Besides,” he said with a broad grin, “hopin’ to pick your brain on a pediatric problem, if you don’t mind.”

Mind?
Jack’s jaw locked.
Sure. You’ve picked the woman I love, so why not pick my brain too?
Obliging with a stiff nod, he directed a hand toward the church vestibule, following Chase to the front door without a word. He waited while Preacher Boy dug a key from his pocket and let them both in, flipping the lights in the vestibule.

Six mammoth boxes sat dead center, and Jack resisted the urge to groan. A few? His mouth went flat. Somebody needed to tell ol’ Pastor Chase that bald-faced exaggeration bordered dangerously close to a lie.

“I know it looks like a lot, but they’re not too heavy—just awkward.”

Tell me about it.
Jack hefted one side of a box in blatant silence while Chase lifted the other, thinking he might actually want to chat and get to know this guy if not for Lacey and his mistaken devotion to God. As is, he far preferred “awkward” over too friendly with some Bible-toting pretty-boy trying to win his quota of souls for the month.
Especially
when one of those souls belonged to the girl he had once hoped to marry. Clamping his jaw to stunt all discourse, Jack gave Preacher Boy nothing but grunts, heavy breathing, and one-word responses, no desire to get friendly with the competition.