Page 61 of Resisting the Fall

“You’re not the only one who likes to hunt for frogs.” Ben turned the knob and held open the kitchen door. “After you.”

With my pulse still racing, I stepped through into the kitchen. It looked exactly the same. The worn porcelain sink. The same copper teakettle on the stove. A collage of pictures decorating the surface of the fridge. The same delicious smell of fresh-baked bread lingering in the air. It was as though I’d crossed a time barrier that had brought me back to a simpler time. A time where nothing would ever change.

I pushed the thought away. “Where is everyone?” I asked, realizing how quiet it was. An oddity for the Walker home.

“Oh, no one’s home.”

I spun toward Ben, my mouth open. “You let me get all worked up for nothing?”

“It wasn’t for nothing. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Probably almost as much as you did when you broke into my phone. Speaking of which, I’m going to need that new password.”

I clasped my hands behind my back and smiled up at him. “What will you give me?”

He considered me for a moment. “How about a ride home?”

“Tempting,” I said dryly, trying not to be disappointed he hadn’t used the perfect setup I’d handed him to tease me. “I’ll have to think about it.” I looked around the kitchen again. “Why are we here exactly?”

“Archer Rockwood is running the hayrides at the festival and wanted to come have a look at the hay. My dad’s busy with the straw maze and my mom’s doing something for the wedding, so I volunteered to meet with him.”

I searched my mind for the name. “Archer?”

“James Carver’s cousin.”

My brows lifted. “The rodeo star?”

Ben nodded. “He moved to Autumn Ridge about five years ago. He owns Horseshoe Holler.” He’d either done really well in the rodeo or he’d come from family money because, from what I’d heard, Horseshoe Holler was a high-end stable.

I made my way to the fridge, scanning the pictures hung across the front with an eclectic collection of magnets. Some photos were newer, including a wedding announcement for Jaxon and Landrie, and some were older, like the one of Ben and Tate in their football gear, Ben’s senior year and Tate’s junior. There was also a recent family picture of the six of them—Tom, Ann, and their four boys.

My gaze caught on a picture of Ben and me at the lake. He stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, my hands resting on his forearms as I leaned into him. We couldn’t have looked more in love.

“Told you,” Ben said, suddenly at my side, his gaze having followed mine. “She also hasn’t taken down the one your mom gave her of the two of us at your first violin recital. It’s still framed in the other room.”

I smiled. That one was one of my favorites. I was so clearly smitten with Ben—a massive smile on my face and leaning my head on his shoulder—while he looked more shocked than anything. Well, there was also a hint of panic in his eyes.

“She refuses to take them down until…” His words trailed off.

He didn’t need to say it. I knew. Until he found someone else.

My stomach twisted at the thought, but I glanced over at him, pretending it didn’t. “Just FYI, I would hate seeing old pictures of my boyfriend and his soon-to-be ex-wife proudly displayed when I visit his parents’ house.”

Ben shrugged. “It hasn’t been a problem.”

Because his girlfriends weren’t as jealous as I was? Or because they didn’t come to the house? Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of how to ask for the information in a non-incriminating way. I didn’t want Ben to think I cared. I honestly was just curious.

Okay, maybe a part of me cared.

Which was a problem and meant it was time to change the subject.

“I’ve always loved this one.” I pointed to a picture of all four Walker brothers at Leeland’s pond, Luke on Ben’s shoulders and Jaxon on Tate’s. If you didn’t know the boys, the silly grins on their faces would seem to contradict the intense physical battle they were engaged in to unseat the other pair. If you knew them, it captured their relationship perfectly—rough and tumble boys who enjoyed nothing more than being together. Well, besides thrashing the others when the opportunity arose.

“Remember how you cowered near my mom, refusing to join the fun?”

I glanced over at him. “I must have been having an off day. I’m usually all about testosterone-driven competitions to establish hierarchical dominance between brothers.”

Ben smiled and took a step closer, his arm brushing against mine and making my touch receptors go into a frenzy. “Do you remember this one?” he asked, pointing with his other hand to a photo of one of the Walkers’ countless gatherings.

I swallowed, hardly able to process anything but how close Ben stood. I could feel the warmth of him through my sweatshirt. “Not particularly.”