Shoreline Drive (11 page)

Still feeling guilty about the way she popped off on him earlier, Merry gave the big guy a smile. “Nothing quite so dramatic. But I obviously do need to have a quick conversation with my mother, if you guys will excuse us.”

Sam tipped his head in one of those gentlemanly nods they must teach Southern boys in school. “Nice to meet you, Merry.”

Her gaze slid to Ben, who’d clearly skipped class the day they were handing out manners.

Merry’s brand spanking new fiancé had his head down and his hands buried in his beat-up canvas medical bag—he didn’t appear to notice or care that she was about to have what promised to be, at best, a super awkward conversation with her mother.

She sighed and rubbed at her neck, feeling the aftereffects of emotional whiplash. But then, she’d dealt out some mixed signals of her own, she realized. Gathering herself, she laid a careful hand on her fiancé’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Come to the office and say hi to Alex—he’ll cry if he misses you.”

Ben grunted, refusing to look up at her. “Do me a favor—if your mother talks some sense into you and you decide not to marry me after all, just text me or something.”

Stung, Merry backed off, tucking both hands under her arms against the sudden chill in the air. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, and when she snuck a glance at Sam Brennan, he gave her a sympathetic grimace.

Great, even strangers could see how weird and strained things were between Merry and this man she’d agreed to marry.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

As if she’d said the words aloud, Ben’s head snapped up like a stallion scenting danger on the wind. His sharp gaze pierced her heart. “Hey. I’m sorry. Give Alex a squeeze for me, and tell him I’ll see him soon. Okay?”

And just like that, Merry felt the cold knot at the center of her chest melt in a flood of happiness. “I don’t care what people say about you,” she said, going for teasing and hitting husky instead. “You’re not the biggest crank on Sanctuary Island.”

Predictably, Ben scowled. “Yes I am.”

“Nope. You’re sweet as candy. You’re the gooey, chewy nougat at the center of a chocolate candy bar.”

“If I’m chocolate, I’m the bitter kind,” he said grumpily.

“Nope,” she told him, her spirits lifting. “You can’t fool me anymore with that scowly mask you put on. Like with Java—I thought you didn’t care about his suffering, but that’s not it at all, is it?”

It was intensely satisfying to watch the dull flush of red darken the tips of his ears. “You’re going to be hell on my reputation.”

“You care,” Merry said relentlessly. “You care a lot.”

What had Ben gone through in his life, Merry wondered, to make him think he needed to convince the world he didn’t give a crap about anything?

In the stall, Java seemed to have worn himself out a bit. He kicked at the door, but it was half the strength and force of his previous loud protests. Ben glanced at his patient and flexed his long, dexterous fingers.

“I have to be unaffected,” he explained. “Horses are prey animals—their instincts make them sensitive to the slightest hint of danger. If I go in there angry and upset, Java will feel threatened … and with an animal like this, that could be very dangerous.”

“I get it,” Merry said around the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“I’m sorry you have to talk to your mom about all this by yourself. If you wait, I’ll go with you.” He grimaced. “But I can’t swear I’ll be much help. I don’t do well with big emotional conversations.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you’re doing okay.” Merry smiled at the look on Ben’s handsome face. Surprised and pleased—it suited him.

Giving an amused Sam Brennan a good-bye wave, Merry marched down the hall to beard her mother in her den, feeling more confident than ever that she was making the right decision.

Maybe a life with Ben wouldn’t always be easy or smooth—but it would certainly be interesting.

Chapter Eight

When she entered her mother’s office, the first thing Merry’s eyes went to was her baby’s playpen next to the battered old desk.

Alex lay on his back surrounded by plush toys, kicking his little legs—and as she watched, he gave a mighty wriggle and rolled over onto his stomach. She rushed across the room to get an up-close view of even more kicking, and some funny swimming motions his chubby arms made as they waved through the air.

“Look at my big boy! Did you see that, Mom? He rolled over on his own.”

Jo stood up from her desk and leaned over the playpen, a wide smile lighting her face. “What do you know! He’ll be crawling before we know it, and then we’ll have to watch out.”

Jo paused. “Or … I suppose not ‘we,’ but you and Ben will have to watch out.”

Merry swallowed. “Mom. I’m sorry you found out like that. I wanted to tell you, but it just happened, literally a few hours ago, and when you called with an emergency…”

“No, I get it,” Jo said, holding up her hands. “Don’t apologize. I was only surprised because … well, honestly, I didn’t think you and Ben had figured out that you like each other yet.”

Merry blinked. “What do you mean?”

Laughing a little, Jo sank back down into the swivel chair behind her desk. “You two have struck sparks off each other since the moment you met—but I was sure you were resisting the attraction.”

“Attraction!”

Jo frowned. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I … aren’t you attracted to him? You must be, to have agreed to marry him.”

“Well.” Merry palmed the back of her neck, not sure at all how to deal with this. “Look, there are lots of reasons people get married—love and romance and … attraction. That’s not all there is.”

Jo, who’d been married and divorced once, and was currently in an on-again, off-again long-term relationship with a man who desperately wanted to marry her, snorted softly. “Believe me, I know. Marriage is complicated. But honey, help me understand. What exactly is going on between you and Ben? I didn’t even know you were seeing each other, outside of his barn visits.”

“We weren’t,” Merry admitted, dropping into the rocking chair they’d set up in the corner for when Alex needed soothing during the day. Merry pushed off with her feet and listened for the rhythmic creak of the runners against the hardwood floor. Maybe she was the one who found it soothing. “But we’ve gotten to know each other a bit, and I think we want the same things for the future. Is it the romance of the ages? Not at all—but I don’t want that, and neither does he.”

Jo arched a brow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Very.” Merry was firm on this point. “I was totally clear with him. He knows I’m not in love with him, and he’s fine with that. And obviously he’s not in love with me, either.”

Jo had a weird look on her face, like she was suppressing a sneeze. Was she mad? Was she going to try to talk Merry out of it?

But as she filled her mother in on the rest of the details of the marriage negotiation, Merry remembered all the reasons she’d agreed to it in the first place. Riding the surge of confidence that she was doing the right thing, she finished with, “And the bottom line is that I believe Ben will be a good father to Alex. They’ve had a connection from the very first moment of Alex’s life—that has to mean something.”

“Maybe,” Jo conceded. Worry lines bracketed her mouth. “But Merry, what about your connection with Ben? Because I agree that not every relationship needs to be about attraction and romance—but sweetheart, I want that for you. You deserve that kind of happiness.”

Merry shook her head, rocking faster in instinctive denial. “That’s not what I’m looking for. In fact, that’s part of why I said yes to Ben. After all the men I’ve been with, all the failed relationships and terrible, stupid choices I’ve made when I was thinking with my body and my heart and not with my head—Ben is perfect for me. He’s safe. Because I’ve learned my lesson about letting my hormones rule my life. I’m going into this for the right reasons.”

“I understand where you’re coming from.” Jo appeared to be picking her words carefully, like one of the wild horses finding a path through the soft, squishy salt marsh. “And I don’t want to imply that you don’t know what’s best for you and Alex.”

“But?” Irritation sparked through Merry’s chest.

“But … honey, I’ve seen you with Ben. You didn’t flirt with him in an obvious way, but I always thought you felt more for him than you were letting on.”

“Well, I don’t. There’s nothing there except mutual respect and a shared desire to give Alex the best life possible. And that’s good enough for me.”

Even as she made her declaration, Merry was aware of a slight tickle of doubt. It was true that ever since giving birth to Alex, Merry’s thoughts hadn’t exactly been on sex. She’d even wondered if being a mother meant that she was simply over that kind of desire—and heaven knew, Merry was ready to move past that part of her life, which had never brought her anything but grief and pain … and Alex.

But in the back of her mind, a quiet voice reminded her of the wash of heat and jangling nerves when she looked at Ben, when their bodies brushed in the confines of his truck, or he bent close to tell her something. The way she felt about Ben wasn’t exactly safe. On some level—the deepest, most physical level, Merry did want him.

And Ben hadn’t exactly said he didn’t care about sex.

He’d said he wouldn’t push her. And then he’d challenged her to resist him. Then he’d leaned in, almost close enough for a kiss. And if their lips had touched right then, Merry was honest enough with herself to admit that she would have been lost in a haze of desire. Even now, her mouth tingled, almost aching for the feel of Ben’s kiss, and everything low in her body tightened in a rush of lust as sharp and undeniable as it was dangerous.

What if Dr. Ben Fairfax wasn’t as safe a choice as he seemed?

*   *   *

“Is this your first rescue exam?”

Ben slanted a glance at Sam Brennan’s calm, inquisitive expression. Nothing much seemed to ruffle the guy.

“We don’t see a lot of mistreatment of animals on the island,” Ben said. “It’s too small and close-knit a community.”

“Self-selected for horse lovers, too,” Sam observed. “Since everyone who lives here either grew up around wild horses or moved here knowing that the island doubles as a horse preserve.”

“True.” Ben certainly had. The island’s warm embrace and protective stance toward the bands of wild horses who roamed its shores had appealed strongly to Ben. He’d needed that, when he first moved here with his grief and his failures still throbbing like open wounds. “I guess it’s not like that everywhere in the world.”

“Sanctuary Island is the exception to every rule,” Sam agreed, with a fond chuckle.

Ben noticed that Sam’s deep, resonant voice appeared to calm the stallion. Every time Sam spoke, Java’s long ears flicked in his direction. “You seem to know an awful lot about it, for someone who doesn’t live here,” Ben said, to keep the guy talking while he started his visual exam.

“I mentioned my cousin Penny. She moved here a while ago with her son. I’m sure you’ve met her—she waits tables at the Firefly Café.”

A vague picture of a sweet-faced young woman with masses of soft chestnut hair floated to the forefront of Ben’s brain. He pictured her in the sea-green cotton dress that was the waitress uniform at the Firefly Café, and it looked right. Familiar. “Sure,” he murmured, most of his brain focused on cataloguing the shivering stallion’s many symptoms. “Good pancakes.”

Intent on investigating the deep sway of Java’s back, the thick line of his spine pushing up against his hide, Ben moved slowly and carefully into the stall. Java hung his head and shuddered, worn out by his earlier tantrum.

“I’m more of a waffle man, myself,” Sam said, as low and soothing as if he understood the part his voice was playing in this exam.

He kept talking, a smooth patter of words Ben tuned out completely—some nonsense about his cousin getting married and how much his nephew had shot up in height over the summer—while Ben immersed himself in the cool, challenging world of diagnostics.

Dull coat, but that could be lack of attention and unwillingness to stand still for a hosing down. Ribs, spine, and hip bones all prominent, indicating malnutrition, but subject is potbellied, pointing to parasitic infection. Tapeworm possible, evidence fungal infection on hooves due to standing in wet, marshy pasture. Result? Deworming protocols necessary, including quarantine during treatment …

Ben was so involved in following the clues, he forgot that he was working on a severely traumatized animal that outweighed him by hundreds of pounds. Until the large doors at the end of the barn slid on their rollers and banged open, startling Java out of his exhausted stupor.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The slam of the door had Java jerking his hoof out of Ben’s hands. Ben, crouched low to get a close look at the state of the animal’s feet, moved to straighten up. But before he could, the hoof he’d been examining hurtled toward his face.

At the last second, he managed to turn his head. Pain exploded through his left temple in a sickening rush, the air all around him torn with screams of equine fury and shouts of warning—then the world went black and silent.

Ben came to as he was being dragged out of the stall, hands hooked under his arms and his heels scraping through loose hay and sawdust. Above him, Sam Brennan’s fiercely determined face swam through Ben’s field of vision as pounding feet and loud voices pierced the fog of pain clogging his brain.

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes once more, it wasn’t Brennan’s beard he encountered, but a confusingly upside-down view of Merry’s pale cheeks and wide, frightened eyes.

“Ben! You’re awake.”

“Of course I’m awake,” he grumbled, making a concerted effort to lift his head. Not a good idea. Ben let gravity have its way, only realizing his head was cradled in Merry’s lap when she pushed tentative fingers through his hair to find the bright, shocking center of pain beside his left eye.

“It’s okay, lie still. Mom is calling down to the dock to get an emergency water taxi to take you to Harbor General.”