Page 9 of Resisting the Fall

Jaxon made a kissy sound, so I punched his arm.

“I meant as a friend,” Mother corrected five seconds too late. “And, Bennett, don’t punch your brother.”

“Jaxon.” Dad glanced over his shoulder. “Grab a dish towel and come dry these dishes for me, please. Bennett and Tate, can you two go put the extra chairs away in the barn?”

“Sure.” I grinned at Tate. That was definitely better than dish duty.

“And you,” he said to my mom. “Stop fussing with the leftovers and go sit down. I’ll get the food put away.”

Mom smiled at Dad in a way that had me pulling Tate toward the door. We’d seen enough kissing for today. I grabbed one of my rubber boots from the back porch and was putting it on when my toes came in contact with something squishy.

“What in the…?” I yelled, yanking off the boot and dumping it upside down. A huge bullfrog plopped onto the ground and let out a large croak.

Tate scooped it up before it had the chance to escape. He held it up, looking at it. “How’d you get in there?”

How had it gotten in there?

“What is it?” Mom asked, peeking around the corner of the open door.

Tate lifted the frog toward her. “There was a bullfrog inside Bennett’s boot.”

“Oh, heavens.” She made a face. “That’s a big one too.”

I shivered at the reminder. I didn’t mind frogs, but I hadn’t been prepared for the feeling of it under my foot. With a little more caution, I put the offending boot on, then grabbed the other when a croak alerted me to a second frog. I dumped the boot, and sure enough, a bullfrog of similar size dropped out of it.

“Another one?” Tate asked, scooping that one up as well.

Mom tucked her lips inward, fighting a smile. “What are the odds?”

Someone had put those frogs in my boots!

I narrowed my eyes, my mind moving through the likely suspects until it settled on an image of Maven near the creek with a bucket in hand. “It was Maven.”

“Sweet little Maven?” Mom shook her head. “I doubt it. What about Dominic or James? Or the Stevenson boy?”

I shook my head, fighting a smile. I didn’t know why, but I knew it was Maven. She might look scrawny and innocent, but she was trouble.

Maven

The digital clock hanging near the clerk’s counter ticked away, my foot tapping a quick rhythm on the tile floor to rid my body of the nervous energy flowing through me. We had one chance at this, and Ben wasn’t even here yet. Which, honestly, wasn’t like him. He was as dependable as inflation. I straightened the stack of papers on my lap again, mindlessly spinning the thirty-dollar fake engagement ring I’d bought at a local department store on my way to the courthouse. It was definitely a half size too big, but it was the only one that looked remotely genuine.

A movement in the doorway sent my gaze to Ben. Without warning, my heart took off at a reckless speed. The subtle differences in his appearance I’d noticed last night were far less subtle in the daylight. He wore his dark brown hair longer, replacing the neatly cropped style with a fuller, can-I-please-run-my-fingers-through-it look. He still had his I-haven’t-shaved-for-two-days stubble, but it now covered a jawline that had transitioned from young-man status to pure-man status. An upgrade the rest of him had clearly undergone as well. Everything seemed broader or thicker or sharper, and I… I needed to breathe.

And I needed to stop staring.

“Ben!” I lifted a hand before he had to search me out among the dozen others waiting.

His warm brown eyes locked on me, and he gave a small lift of his chin in acknowledgment. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” He dropped into the seat next to me, smelling way too divine for a courtroom appearance. Though it was likely unintentional, being that his outfit comprised worn jeans, brown work boots, and a flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves. At least he’d tucked it in. “My meeting ran longer than expected. I would have called, but I don’t have your new number.”

“It’s fine.” I’d decided on the drive here that I wanted to keep our communication as friendly, but focused, as possible. We didn’t need to let old feelings surface—the bad ones or the good ones. “I have all the paperwork filled out, and there’s a tab marking each spot you need to sign.”

His gaze paused on my ring when I passed him the stack, and a twinge of guilt shot through me. It was for the best. And only temporary. Besides, it could have been a real ring—and even bigger than this one—had I accepted Colin’s proposal.

“When’s the big day?” Ben asked, not even pretending he hadn’t noticed the square cubic zirconium set on a gold band.

I resisted the urge to clear my throat—it was a telltale sign I was being less than truthful, and he knew it. “We haven’t decided yet. Pen?”

He accepted my offering, his gaze meeting mine. “I’m happy for you.” Surprisingly, he sounded sincere.