Meeting Mr. Right Read Online Free PDF Page B

my flower girl.

    All the best,
    BJ

    “D id you get everything straightened out with your mom?” Vee asked as Ben returned to the back patio. Not that she really had to ask to know how the conversation had gone. Even with only a sidelong glance, she could see that his face was the color of a ripe cherry.
    “If by ‘straightened out’ you mean my mother set me in my place and told me to keep my mouth shut and help you dig, then yes. I’ve definitely been straightened out.”
    “I didn’t mean to cause any problems for you, Ben.”
    He arched a brow as if he doubted her good intentions. “No, of course you didn’t. It’s my own blustering that got me into trouble. I may be a thirty-year-old man, but Mama won’t take any sass from me.”
    Vee’s throat burned and she quickly turned her gaze from his, blinking rapidly as memories of her own mother overwhelmed her again.
    The recollections made her want to laugh.
    And cry.
    Maybe both simultaneously.
    She pulled in a ragged breath, but the air seemed sharp, piercing her throat and lungs. Not a day went by that she didn’t think about her mother. She’d be all right for a while, and she even felt like she could function normally most days, but then grief would sneak up and reappear out of nowhere, jumping out from behind her back and wrenching her heart in two once again.
    This was one of those times, and she was mortified that Ben was here to witness it once more. Dealt with the sudden blow of emotions she was unable to handle, she would have turned away to hide them, but Ben gently stayed her with his large, callused hand as he grasped her elbow.
    “I did it again, didn’t I?” he murmured in an unexpectedly tender, soft tone. “I have a bad habit of sticking my boot in my mouth.” Ben was a rough-edged man, and in Vee’s opinion, not a very nice one, so the sympathy pouring from his gaze surprised her. “I’m truly sorry about your mother, Vee.”
    He didn’t say anything else. In her experience, people tended to chatter when they were uncomfortable with a situation, but not Ben. He just stood there, strong and silent, waiting for her to gather herself together. She wasn’t sure how he’d figured out where her thoughts had gone, but she was grateful to him for giving her the moment she needed to compose herself.
    But composure failed to come. Despite her best intentions, tears welled. She fought and nearly lost herself to the blaze that was burning in her throat and behind her eyes.
    She wasn’t a bawler. She’d learned long ago that crying didn’t get you anywhere—not with two big brothers around to tease her about it. If anything, breaking into tears only made things worse, so she’d learned not to do it. Her brothers had literally thrown her into the deep end of the pool and expected her to swim. They’d taught her to be tough. She was a Bishop, and Bishops were a strong lot.
    But in this case, reminding herself of her heritage didn’t seem to help. Nothing did. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her tears from falling despite her best efforts.
    Ben slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a close embrace. The comfort of his rock-solid chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat somehow reassured her.
    Depending on someone else, even for a moment, was unfamiliar to her. And she couldn’t believe that the person she was leaning on was Ben Atwood—possibly the least reliable person she knew. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to breathe slowly, fighting desperately against the urge to let loose the roaring broil of her emotions and bawl into Ben’s chest. She barely restrained herself from wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him back.
    She couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Ben. Bishops were strong people, she reminded herself again. They didn’t let anything get the best of them, not even a grief that felt like it was ripping her apart.
    She sucked in another big gulp of air and backed