“Branson used to think it was fun to sleep in here, in Uncle Ben’s room, so my mom left it. Now she can change it, if she wants, considering how Branson thinks I’m the enemy most of the time these days.”
Moving closer to Ben, I ran my fingers through his hair and placed a quick kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?” he asked before kissing me again, making it impossible for me to answer.
We stayed like that for a while until we needed to catch our breath.
I rested my head on Ben’s chest. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself about Branson. He’s just a confused teen who’s lucky to have a great family to support him.”
Ben brushed his lips over the top of my head before tipping my chin up so he could meet my eyes. “Thanks.”
After spending a few more minutes exploring, picking up trinkets and taking it all in, I looked out the window from his bedroom. “Can we walk around the property?”
“The tasting house is still open for tourists. Marley is doing my parents a favor and helping out with the stragglers. Let’s go later? It’s beautiful at night.”
“Sure.”
Truthfully, I was itchy to get out of the house. This was nothing like my experience growing up, or like any of the families we had Sunday dinner with. There were always butlers and formalities and not a single bit of this type of down-home feel. This was all too real for me.
“Hey,” Ben said softly. “Stay here with me.”
He tipped my chin up again to bring my gaze back to his, and I felt a moment’s respite from the anxiety. I was falling for Ben and he was falling back, but this house—a paragon of normalcy—was starting to feel like a foreign country to me.
“I am. I’m trying.”
“See all those trees?” Ben distracted me by nodding toward the window and pulling me in front of him.
With my back to his front and his arms holding me firmly against him, I could feel his breath on my neck. “They’re beautiful. How long have they been here?”
“You can’t tap a tree until it’s forty years old, so a long time. Soon, my dad will start walking the rows of them and marking the ones to be tapped. When it dips below freezing, the sap starts to run during the day,” he said, and I swore I could feel him smiling against the back of my head.
“Those trees are like extended family. I can tell.”
“They are. Many of them came with the property when my parents bought it. A few years before Brenna was born, they planted a lot more. It was an expensive process, and they’re now only starting to realize any profits on them. That’s why they were always so strapped for cash back then.”
Ben pulled my hair aside and kissed my neck.
“Hey,” I mumbled. “We don’t want to get caught making out in your bedroom.”
He rumbled out a laugh. “My mom would be thrilled, I’m sure. Let’s go eat, and then we’ll take a walk around the trees. In the meantime, I promise to protect you from my family. They’re a bit much,” he said while squeezing my hand as we headed back downstairs.
I wasn’t sure whether I should be happy or nervous when Brenna plopped down next to me at dinner. With Ben seated across from me, I felt like I’d surrendered my security blanket. Branson sat across from his mom, eyeing me, and Mr. and Mrs. Rooney were at either end of the table.
Although I’d never been nervous in social situations, I wasn’t prepared for this one. I was surrounded.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled on past lessons in social graces from my mom and glued a smile to my face. Complimenting the house got me some extra credit, and then there was a small lull in the inquisition when Brenna poured me a second glass of wine and then went to help her mom bring in the rest of the food.
Now, I wasn’t so sure about Ben’s promise to protect me as his mom told stories about his childhood. Soon, she’d ask about mine.
How could I compete with the time Ben helped deliver a calf when he was ten years old, or when he was the MVP of his eighth-grade Pee Wee football league? I’d have to tell a tale of nannies and housekeepers caring for me, combing the tangles out of my hair and making sure I was quiet.
“And Brenna used to dress him like a little girl and make him act in her shows,” Mrs. Rooney was saying when Brenna finally said, “Okay, Mom.”
“Yeah, that’s probably enough walking down memory lane for one night,” Ben’s dad said kindly.
“Branson said you came from New York,” Brenna said to me. “He said he ran into you at the farmers’ market.”
“Yes. I remembered how good the syrup was from our time at Pressman. Ben would bring it back to school when he went home, and honestly, I think I dipped everything into it for weeks. The market was one of my first stops when I got here.”
