by Kim Smith
Chapter Five
The Inn smelled like home baked bread with a touch of cinnamon and the coffee pot bubbled happily as it finished its work of making coffee. Ben finished tying the string around the last bundle of roses and sat it on the table closest to the kitchen.
The back door opened and Nikki came in, arms laden with grocery bags. “Hey there,” she said, breathless.
“Here give me those,” he said, taking a bag from her. “I didn’t expect you.”
“Yes, well, it was a surprise to me too.” Her face darkened. “My patient, the one I told you about, died this morning.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say. What did you say to a doctor who was supposed to be trained for those events—but you knew her well enough to know she was never that prepared?
She began unloading the bags. “Yeah, oh. Oh, and oh again. It hurts sometimes, you know?”
“I do.” He spoke truthfully and she gazed at him, pain etched her face, mirroring his own.
“How’s the guest?” She turned away, refusing to talk. “Has she finished her book yet?”
He took bananas from her and set them on the counter. “No. In fact, I sort of wonder if she has even gotten started. She seems like the kind who needs to work up to the real heart of the situation. Writing a novel must be killer.”
“I’ll bet it’s you. You’re distracting her.”
He started to answer but Kitty entered and the words died on his lips.
“The smell coming from the kitchen is enough to bring a woman floating along with no need for feet,” she said, a wide smile lighting her face. Then, she caught sight of Nikki. “Miss Butler, how wonderful to see you again!”
Nikki grinned. “Thanks, great to see you too. How’s the writing going?”
Her expression changed. “Not so good.”
Ben wanted to laugh. “Why not? You had an awe-inspiring lunch from the most scenic spot in Mississippi.”
Nikki looked from one to the other, waiting on someone to explain the joke.
“I need a library, I’m afraid. Nothing like being surrounded by tomes to help create one,” Kitty replied, cutting a slice of the bread Ben sat on a platter nearby.
“Come on, let’s sit down, have some coffee and bread, and figure out how to help you,” he suggested.
While they carried dishware to the nearest table, he poured the coffee. “The library here in our county is pretty small.” He joined them, juggling the cups, sloshing the drinks. “Drat.”
She took one and held out a napkin. “Here do be careful not to burn yourself.”
Nikki watched them. “There’s always the main library up in Memphis. It’s a massive building which houses enough books to keep the most vested writer busy for days.”
Ben set the other cup down in front of Nikki and took a napkin to the floor with him. “That’s true,” he said, his voice muffled.
“Ben, you need to tag along though,” Nikki announced. “I wouldn’t want her to maneuver her way there and back. Too much traffic. And it’s sort of a long drive.”
He gathered himself to one knee and gave her a look. Could she be any more transparent?
###
Later, after a trip through the linen closet to freshen the linens, Nikki stopped in the kitchen to have a word with Ben. The dirty laundry she had gathered on her journey through the upstairs was draped over her arm and shoulder. “Where’s Kitty?” she asked.
“On the back patio, enjoying the sun.”
“Oh,” Nikki looked out the window and located her. “Well, that gives me a few minutes to talk to you alone.”
Ben busied himself with a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce. “If you are going to run over me again about my guest, forget it. I’m doing my very best. I agreed to drive her up to the library.”
Nikki dropped the pile of laundry at the doorway to the pantry and reached inside for a plastic garbage bag to haul it all home in. “She seems so nice. Very well-mannered and high-born.”
“A little bit of blue-blood, you mean?”
“I think it’s the accent,” she explained.
He surreptitiously checked Kitty’s position before answering. “She’s a real fine lady.”
“Well,” Nikki said, with emphasis. “So you did notice?”
“I’ve noticed, now drop it. More importantly, I’m trying to capitalize on the fact that she seems to like me well enough to write me in her book. When she leaves The Inn, she’ll tell all her friends in Ireland and New York about her stay here. Before you know it, we’ll be booked every week.”
Nikki looked down at the pile of laundry. “Is that all you see when you see her?”
“Dollar signs, my dear sister. Only dollar signs.”
“You’re terrible. You know Carla would want you to take advantage of an opportunity at a relationship if it came along,” she snorted.
“And I will. If it does.”
“What is it, Ben? Is it that you think you failed? Is it this place?” She hated how her voice sounded so stiff with concern.
He turned and laid his spoon on its rest before moving over to her to place his hands on her shoulders. “She might have asked you to look out for me, but I promise I’ll be just fine. When I’m ready, I’ll venture out.”
She tilted her head back and pinned him with her gaze. “Just don’t wait too long Ben. Time is fleeting. The next thing you know you’re twenty years older and closer to death.”
He laughed at her reference to the lyrics of an old Pink Floyd tune and released her. “Thanks, Pink.”
“Believe me, I know. I watch it happen all around me on any given day. You may think you’re being cautious and choosy. But what’s really happening is your heart’s hardening like a candy coating. If you don’t put it under the broiler again soon, it may ruin the whole recipe.”
With both of them looking out at the patio, Kitty rose from the lounge chair and stretched. Nikki watched Ben’s face change, a muscle twitching in his cheek. There was more there than even he knew.
###
Kitty gathered her purse, notebook, and other necessary items for a visit to the library. Ben had offered to drive her in his truck but she refused. The rental would be the most sensible car to take. After all, the mileage was free. She would have gladly driven herself, but he wouldn’t hear of it. A most pleasant change of male behavior in her estimation.
She slid into the passenger’s seat, dropping her purse and belongings onto the floor. Once fully inside, she pulled the seat belt over to hook it in. Ben waited with a casual interest, but it made her a little nervous. The car was small and they were close beside each other.
So close in fact, she could smell his cologne. Earthy and musky, it matched his personality some way, and made her want to snuggle close to him and be protected. This strange attraction sent a warm flush into her cheeks and she tried to hide it by concentrating on the uncooperative lap belt latch.
He reached over and took the belt from her trembling hands, deftly locking it into place. She gazed at him, a murmured thanks on her lips and saw a smile spread across his face.
“Damn Americans, can’t make anything right,” he said, his hand brushing hers.
“Agreed,” she answered, looking away. Ben’s nearness affected even her breathing, it seemed. This was going in the book.
He leaned toward her, their shoulders nearly touching. “But we play great baseball.”
She felt her pulse skyrocket. If he moved just a wee bit, he could kiss her.
Would he hold her face in his hands? Would he sigh with need like the man in her book had done? Would he fill her with passion, as she had always wanted?
As the questions flitted through her mind, the realization that she feared receiving the answers struck her. She moved away, adjusted her earrings, and faced forward. “Of that I have no doubt.”
He took the car out of park. “Maybe we can find a Redbirds game before you leave.”
“Thank you. I’ve not gone to many sporti
ng events in America. Too focused on other things.” She looked down at her hands. “My writing.”
He glanced behind him before backing out, and casually said, “You’re probably not going to get a better chance to see what red-blooded Americans like.”
She didn’t have to think very hard to understand what he was saying. Red-blooded American men. “First the library, I think,” she stammered.
###
While she wandered the library shelves and sat leafing through huge reference books, Ben strolled around outside, watching people, and enjoying the warmth of the day.
Tables and chairs stood nearby to enable visitors to sit and read. He pulled one of the wrought iron chairs out and sat in it, thoughts raging.
He’d wanted to impress her, make her long to return to the Inn, not seduce her. What had happened in the car? Where had desire squeezed itself in? He’d tried to remain aloof, detached. She was his guest, but damn, it was hard to keep playing this game. She spent a lot of her time in his presence, using him as a model for the book.
Her every look, every word, was justifiably questionable.
No wonder she filled his every waking moment—and even some of the night—whether physically or in thought alone. It was as though she’d planned it that way.
Her spicy romance book kept him hot and bothered like Kitty had cast some sort of spell over him. He had damn near given up his soul to the temptress in the car a little while ago.
“What were you thinking?” he asked himself quietly. He’d almost taken her into his arms and kissed her silly. And she had given off the impression that she knew it. Her eyes had gone wide and filled with longing for him, but it was mixed with something else, something more like fear. Fear of what? Rejection? He’d known that himself a few times. But it hadn’t stopped him from trying.
She didn’t exactly say no. What did that mean?
He tilted his head back and gazed up at the blue sky. He didn’t believe in supernatural occurrences but if there was such a thing, he knew Carla was pulling him along like a puppet. She always had.
“If she’s the one you’re settled on,” he whispered. “I’ll risk it.”
He closed his eyes and let the sunlight warm his face. In a few moments, a voice spoke and though it was not near to him, he understood it.
“I’ve tried to teach you the right things to do; you’ve always fought me. Now you have no choice, you have to listen to me, and you have to do what I say. Go in there and get her and don’t let her push you around.”
He opened his eyes and looked around. An elderly woman with a huge leather bag draped over her arm watched the disappearing figure of a boy as he entered the library.
Ben smiled to himself as he took the stone steps two at a time.
When he found Kitty, she sat on the floor of an aisle scribbling in her notebook, her brow furrowed with intense concentration.
He knelt beside her. “What did you find?”
She jerked, startled. “Oh, you startled me. I think I may be interested in the war.”
“I thought romances were supposed to be about love and happiness?”
“That comes after the battle, or at least that’s what I believe. You’re ready to leave, then?”
He leaned toward her. “You smell good.”
She dropped her pen in surprise.
He took her hand before she could try to reclaim it. “Let’s go somewhere else, with less light, more noise, and good food.”
“What about the Inn? Don’t you need to be there?” Her pulse quickened beneath his fingers.
“It’ll keep. Nothing going on today anyway,” he answered, squeezing her hand a bit for reassurance. “I want to take you out.”
“I’ve a mind to say yes,” she smiled.
He brushed his lips over the back of her hand, drinking in the soft scent of lotion. “You’re not afraid of running into fans while out with me at a local place are you?”
She shook her head, eyes sparkling.
“Good. It’s a date. I’ll be outside.” He stood and strode back toward the door before he lost his nerve. Looking back later, he couldn’t understand where the bravado had come from to begin with.
###
Kitty applied lipstick carefully. The shade of red did something to her appearance. Made her seem more subdued, relaxed. She appraised herself critically. Or was that it made her seem more seductive? Whatever it was, it would be enough to entice a man.
“Just nerves,” she told her reflection as she gathered her purse and fled the ladies room. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the table where they had been seated at a corner table nestled away from the loud raucousness of the restaurant.
A single candle flickered in its glass container and Ben smiled at her as she seated herself.
For a few moments, they just looked at each other. Nothing said would be easily understood anyway and the silent language being spoken at the moment spoke far more loudly anyway, she mused.
He leaned forward. “Thank you for coming out with me. I think I needed time away as much as your good company.”
“You’d only to ask. Thank you for taking me to the library. Research is vital.”
“My pleasure.”
She sipped her water, watching as he rummaged around in his mind to bring up a subject of conversation.
“So, how is the book coming? Any part of it you can share?”
The book. She wanted to laugh. “I suppose so. It’s about a man, haunted by his past, and the woman who saves him.”
He tilted his head as he gazed at her. “The man. That would be me?”
She nodded.
“Is that how you see me? Haunted by my past?”
“Aren’t you?”
He paused before answering. “Maybe I am. I guess it’s hard for me to admit to.”
She eyed him over her glass. “If it’s any consolation, I believe we all have past issues sculpting us.”
“What about this haunted man? What’s his story?”
“He’s a complicated man. Full of plans for the future if the past will let him be. It’s the woman’s future that yawns before her, keeping her too frightened of what the unknown holds for her to find happiness. The story is about how each one of them conquers their demons, at first alone, then finally together.”
“Who is the woman? Who do you pattern her after?” Ben asked, crossing his arms.
“Oh, no one in particular. She’s a bit of every woman I’ve ever known and written about I suppose. Don’t we all have fears of the future?”
He shook his head. “Not you. You’ve got it all worked out already.”
She set her glass down and avoided his gaze. “Have I?”
He leaned forward once again and took her hand, toying with the silver pinky ring on her finger. The ring was heart-shaped and had Celtic knot work on it. He rubbed his thumb over it thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Chapter Six
He awoke to the smell of flowers luxuriating in a vase of water on the nightstand. He groped around the corner of the table and found the alarm, chiming softly in the darkness. Light filtered underneath the closed door of his closet. It was his habit to leave something burning to illuminate the way.
He threw the comforter back and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, orienting himself. The events of the last evening flooded back.
They had a good time, dancing and talking. The ride back had been filled with silence and thinking. Well, for him anyway. The sound of her soft breathing had let him know she had slipped into sleep sometime close to home.
He had roused her once they parked and they each went their separate ways inside. Later, he found himself standing at the doorway of her room, just staring at the closed door before turning in himself.
Ben shook himself and stood, taking a step toward the closet to turn off the light. “Keep yourself to yourself,” he muttered aloud.
But the memory of the night was one of wonderful recounting. The food ha
d been delicious, her conversation intelligent, and then they danced. Holding her in his arms had nicked a spot in his heart that he wasn’t sure he could forget so soon.
He decided the only way to properly thank her was through action. He hurried to the shower to refresh himself and get down to the kitchen. Cooking was still his best artwork. She would appreciate that.
Later when he finished cooking sausages, eggs, and toast, he poured a cup of the tea she liked and piled it all on a tray to take upstairs. She was sleeping in today, and he wanted her to be surprised by breakfast in bed.
He gently balanced the tray with one hand and knocked. He heard movement within. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again and turned the knob. She wasn’t sleeping. She sat at the desk typing onto a laptop computer. A frown furrowed her brow. The bed was still made and he realized she hadn’t slept at all.
“Kitty?”
No answer. She was so caught up with her writing she wasn’t hearing anything else.
He coughed and carried the tray to the dresser. “I brought you breakfast. I know you planned on staying in today, so, I thought—“
She whirled around in the chair. “Get out.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was a mass of tangles from constant tousling, which he had noticed she did often. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m working. I do not eat when I work. I also do not fraternize, chat, or visit. Get out.” She whirled back to the keyboard. “Please.”
Effectively silenced, he strode to the door, pausing before he left. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
She lifted a hand in either a wave of dismissal or a wave of goodbye. He didn’t hang around to find out.
###
She paced back and forth, mouthing the words as they raced through her mind. The man in her story and Benton Jessup were bothering her. Neither wanted to behave in the manner she wished. She felt hot and cold at the same time, one from desire and one from fear of disappointment. How could she ever finish this story without the intimacy the character had to experience? She could try to remain aloof and detached and see a relationship with Ben develop, and then as soon as she had the writing perfected, be off again.