Your Irresistible Love (The Bennett Family 1)

“Summer did it. She has the soul of an artist. She expresses herself in various ways. Up until a few years ago, she was convinced acting was her calling. Now she paints. I’m so proud of her.”

I smile, remembering my own mother. She too was always supportive of me. In fact, so supportive that she never told me she had cancer until it was too late. During my third year at college, she got sick. Her insurance didn’t cover the costs of treatment, so she simply didn’t get any. If I’d known, I would have quit my studies and worked hundred-hour weeks if necessary to pay for her treatment, which is exactly why she didn’t tell me. The sickness ate at her, and she lost weight dramatically. She was in stage four when she couldn’t hide it anymore. I tried everything to help her, but it was too little, too late.

She died before I began my senior year at NYU and I never got the chance to take care of her.

Mrs. Bennett and I return outside, and Blake and Daniel immediately approach me.

A while later, we’re served cake. Mr. Bennett gives a toast, speaking beautiful words about his wife. Mrs. Bennett gets teary-eyed, and I’m not doing much better. She holds it together until Sebastian presents them with an envelope, announcing he bought the ranch they sold years ago. His parents hug him, thanking him over and over again. Though they don’t want to move away from their children, they plan to turn the ranch into their second home. My heart squeezes as I watch Sebastian with his parents. There is so much tenderness in him. He loves his family so fiercely, it makes me wonder how it would feel if he ever came to love me.

***

Sebastian

Summer is playing hard to get. She was around when I gave my parents their gift, and then she disappeared again. Ah, my baby sister. The most spoiled of the lot of us. I smile, remembering the day she showed up in my office, lacking her usual good humor and glow. It took so long for her to tell me why she came to see me, I started to suspect she was pregnant or something. Nope. Turns out, she had discovered she wanted to be a painter, not an actress. She didn’t tell Mom or Dad. She came to me first.

We come from a family used to the hard work of a ranch, and she felt guilty for her eternal quest for her true calling. I told her I doubted anyone in the family would show her anything except support. I want her to have all the opportunities in the world. Why settle?

My search for Summer is interrupted again, this time by my father.

“Son, you have the look of someone who knows he has some apologizing to do.”

“Guilty. I completely forgot to show up at Summer’s exhibition.”

My father smiles. Though in his sixties, he’s in top form. He refuses to go to the gym, but keeps in shape by doing most of the things around the house himself. That includes repairing the roof and other potentially dangerous activities, which drives me mad with worry. Unfortunately, I can’t tell a man who spent most of his days shouldering the hard work at the ranch suddenly to stop doing what he’s used to.

“Lovely girl you brought with you today,” he comments. Ah, let the cornering begin. I’m surprised my mother hasn’t attempted it yet, but the day is still young. “There is no greater gift for a man than a loving wife.”

“Dad.” I keep my voice respectful. “Let’s not get into this today. I brought her here because I thought she’d like it.” We walk in the shadow of an old oak.

“Don’t you want to get married?”

I snort. “Pippa was married, and look how that turned out.”

“Your mother and I are celebrating our thirty-sixth anniversary.”

“I know, but times are changing.”

My father gives me a look that says, You might be CEO, but you know nothing.

Well, the man earned his right to think whatever he wants. Logan approaches us, and after he and Dad have a short exchange about their dismal fishing results from last weekend, Dad leaves.

“You brought Ava today,” Logan says.

I groan. “Obviously.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

I debate denying it, but Logan is not stupid. “Yep.”

“Did she give in?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you only going to give one-word answers?”

“I won’t discuss private matters with you,” I say.

“Why not?”