They all give a full body shudder, including Benson.
Benson has grown unusually quiet. Well, not unusually. He’s always quiet unless it’s just the two of us, but he’s also staring down at his food.
“Duck Dynasty guys have hot wives,” Paul declares like he’s starting a debate, holding his fork toward me, and deliberately not answering the hairy legs question.
Double standard, if you ask me. I have to shave my legs daily during the summer. No one sees them in the winter, so the shaving becomes more sporadic then. But you still can’t lose popcorn in them, damn it.
“They were married before the beards, and their wives loved them. It’d be shallow to leave because of a beard.” I tap my chin. “What about a girl with hairy armpits? The hair would be long enough to braid. Could you find her attractive?”
No one answers, but again, they all shudder in disgust.
That’s what I thought.
“The point is, you expect women to groom our freaking limbs, yet you think we’re all supposed to overlook the fact your face is a complete mystery, because it’s heavily guarded by that brush pile you all call beards. Who wants to grind on a face like that?”
They all look to my uncle just as Aunt Penny tugs his beard. “I love the beard,” she coos. “And I grind all over it all the time.”
Just…ew.
“She was married pre-beard too,” I say just as a bunch of accusing beards swing my way. “And in love prior to the beard. He could grow a gnarly hunch on his chest, and she’d pet it, thinking it was adorable.”
It’s true. They’re still sickeningly in love.
My uncle grins at her and tugs her closer. At least I think he’s grinning. Always hard to tell because…beard.
A few mumblings go on after that, and I sink against Benson’s side, growing increasingly tired now that the adrenaline from the cougar episode is wearing off.
“So how long have you two known each other?” Liam asks, gesturing toward me and Benson as I fight to keep my eyes open.
Benson, who’s been quiet until now, shifts his arm and turns his body so that I can lean against his chest and get more comfortable. His arm comes around my waist, tugging me closer when I start to sag.
“Since I was twenty-one,” he says gruffly.
“Which was how long ago?” Liam lets the question trail off.
“He inherited his family’s vacation cabin across the lake that they rented out but never stayed in but on occasion,” my aunt supplies. “When he was eighteen, that is. But he kept to himself for the first year or two. I think…how old were you when you met Benson?” she asks, looking over at me.
I force my eyes to open wider. “Eighteen. Like he said, he was twenty-one. He was already bearded. The challenge had been going on for three years,” I say around a yawn.
“I didn’t know she existed before then,” Benson says with a shrug.
“I spent a year in Seattle,” I explain. “Learning graphic design. I graduated from school early—at seventeen—and lived with a friend of my mother’s for a year until I turned eighteen and came back home. But we didn’t become real friends until three years ago.”
Liam nods and looks to Benson. “And what do you do?”
Everyone looks at Benson. Even I tilt my head back, looking up at him with a grin. He grunts and looks down at me before looking away, squeezing me to him a little more.
“No one knows,” I say with a smile, returning my gaze to Liam. “At least, no one knows what he does for money.”
“What do you do?” Benson volleys, glancing over at Liam.
Liam’s lips twitch. “I should get going. I still have to unpack. Thank you, Penny, for the invite. It was nice to meet my neighbors.”
“Where are you staying?” I ask, feeling Benson tense again.
What’s with him?
His arm tightens around my waist, and I study Liam beside us.
“I bought the Morris cabin.”
My jaw falls open. The Morris cabin is just as big, if not bigger, than the ridiculously huge cabin Benson owns. Both are like cabin wet dreams.
Sometimes I spend the night in Benson’s cabin just to be spending the night in Benson’s cabin. Because I love it. It’s awesome.
“That’s about a mile from me,” I note. “Same side of the lake.”
He grins, Benson mutters something, and Liam stands, bidding everyone farewell.
“Come on,” Benson says, lifting me with him as he stands.
My feet hit the ground, and I glance back as all the men start covering the leftovers and cleaning up for Aunt Penny.
“I’ll get you home,” Benson informs me with that no-nonsense tone of his. “And I’ll have a talk with your brothers.”
“You gonna club them over the head with your beard? Because I’d watch that. Might even change my stance on beards.”
He shakes his head, his arm going around my shoulders, and we leave the partiers behind as he tosses his rifle over his back, the strap coming across his shoulder.
Benson is a big guy. Not in the chubby way. Even in the summer he wears jeans, and he always has on a loose shirt. His arms are solid, but not overly muscular.
I really like his arms. They’re totally arm porn material.
He’s tall. Like 6’3 or so. That’s what I mean by big.
I glance back, seeing Liam board his fancy bass boat, and note he’s about the same height.
“You into him?” Benson asks, noticing my line of view.
“Nah. Too pretty.”
He snorts derisively.
“So beards are too ugly, but smooth faces are too pretty. In other words, you can’t be satisfied.”
I elbow him in the ribs, and he tugs me closer.
“He’s model pretty,” I go on. “Saw plenty of the like in Seattle. Didn’t do anything for me then either. Guys like that are fun for a minute, but they never settle down.”
“Thought you didn’t want to settle down. That’s what you keep telling Penny.”
Yeah. I totally just stepped into that shit pile, didn’t I? Must’ve been something in that food.
“I don’t. But I also don’t want to be used and treated with the same respect a blowup doll gets either.”
He looks down at me like he’s studying me, then shakes his head and focuses back on the trail. The bass boat blares by us, and I offer a wave to Liam as he passes us.
“Why didn’t you just drive me over on your boat?” I ask Benson.
“Because your dock needs to be fixed before I dock there again. I’ll come work on it next week.”
“You don’t have to. I can get those dicks to do something. It’s their dock too.”
“They’re the reason it needs to be fixed,” he says, sounding a little angry.
“They’ll fix it. They always do,” I say around another yawn.
“And then I always re-fix it. Might as well cut out the middle man.”
I don’t bother arguing.
Right as we get to the cabin, I decide I’m really going to kill my brothers. All my underwear is hanging from my porch, on tiny little nails, and dangling.
Benson practically turns to stone.
“What the hell?” he asks.
“They’re dead,” I bite out.
“Why would they—”
“Because I burned all theirs after they wrecked my bed.”