“Why are we laughing?”
“I don’t know, but it feels pretty damn good.”
“Agreed. And, you’re right.”
He raises his brow at me and I smile and turn toward the living room and the couch. I scoot into a corner and bring my knees to my chest as I take a small sip of my wine.
“Tony is still a jackass. Ugh, I’m so embarrassed that I was even dating that guy.”
Ben joins me on the couch. Not too close, but also not on the other end where most people would sit.
“Hmm, I’m not touching that comment, but maybe let’s just be glad you ended it. I will say, I didn’t like his parting comment. Has he ever been violent?”
“Tony? No. He’d have to take a step away from the mirror, talking about himself, or online dating to do that. I think he was just flaunting like a peacock once he realized who you were. Thanks, by the way.”
“For?”
“For showing up when you did. Of course, if you hadn’t sent that text last night he may not have been over here trying to stake his claim. So maybe I shouldn’t be thanking you.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure you should be thanking me. Not just for showing up, mind you, but for sending that text last night.”
Damn him and his smirk.
“If Dominguez was stupid enough to cheat on you then I think a kick to his ego knowing you moved on … or pseudo moved on … is only a fraction of what he deserves.”
I can’t really disagree with that logic.
“Hmmm … Bentley Sullivan, have you always been so wise?”
“Of course I have. So, tell me, Piper, what have you been up to all these years?”
Well that’s a loaded question. Instead of replying with the details, I skirt over the emotional bullshit of the last few years and instead hit the highlights. After about an hour or so we’ve managed to summarize, very sparingly I might add, the last few years of our lives. I’m finishing up a story of my first year teaching kindergarten, which, by the way, included not one but two marriage proposals from five-year-olds. Before I can ask about his plans now that he’s back home Ben stands and takes my glass from the table.
“More wine?”
“I better not. Two glasses is already past my weekday max.”
“You do know we don’t have work tomorrow, right? Come on and live a little.”
“Fine, but if I’m hungover again tomorrow, you’re bringing me Rosa’s instead of your sister.”
“Deal.”
I offer him a closed smile in response. We’ve managed to skirt the topic of last night and I know in my gut we have to get it out of the way. It would really help my cause if Ben hadn’t strolled in here like a hero and saved me from stupid Tony. And if he didn’t smell so damn good. And if he didn’t make me laugh. And if his smile didn’t send shivers down my spine.
Yeah, all of that would really help.
I glance toward the kitchen where he’s pouring my wine. Goodness, he sure knows how to wear a pair of jeans. It would help a girl out if he didn’t fill out a pair of jeans like they were designed just for him. Damn he’s distracting.
Yep, we need to have this conversation so he can go.
Since I’m throwing my rules out the window tonight, I might as well go all out. I drag myself off the couch and make my way into the kitchen. Ben turns to see me and offers me that smile again. Settle down, ovaries, it’s Ben, not a Calvin Klein model.
“I would have brought you the wine, Piper.”
And there go the ovaries. Something about the way he says my name … like chocolate slowly pouring over a hot pan of brownies. Rich, creamy, and sinful.
“I … uh … wow, it’s hot in here. Is it hot in here? I should turn on a fan. Are you hot?”
I sound like an idiot. It’s not hot at all. Ben must agree by the sound of the chuckle and shake of his head as he hands me my wine.
“Nah, it’s not hot. Probably just the wine.”
“You’re right. I was going to just grab us a little snack. Are you hungry?”
“I’m a guy. I can eat at any time. What were you thinking?”
“Sweet or savory?” Oh good lord, what kind of come hither voice was that? I set my wine down and grab a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator. This wine is obviously going to my head.
“Both? I always like a little sweet after I savor.”
My eyes go wide as I start choking on my water.
“Oh my word, you did not just say that! Bentley James! That was the corniest thing I have ever heard and I work with five-year-olds!”
“Oh, busting out the middle name. What can I say? I’m a bit rusty in the flirting department.”
“Yeah well, no flirting here, buddy. Go sit and I’ll put together a few snacks,” I say as I push him out of the kitchen.
I need space. I need time without his smell in my senses. Without him being within arms’ distance. I know I can’t act on my attraction to him, but damn if I really want to.
I need to change my name to Pinocchio. I’m a liar; it is hot as hell in here, but it’s not from the wine. No, the sexual tension between us is out of this world.
By the time I made it halfway up the stairs to her apartment, I could hear the voices. The tone in her voice was strained and almost had a quiver to it. I could feel in my bones that she was not only angry, but nervous. The first thing I noticed when I approached the open door was her pert ass in those damn pants. More like a second skin than pants, they showed me what I dreamed about last night was reality.
Then I heard the male voice and something about the way he said her name made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It wasn’t as if he was threatening, no it was more of a manipulative and patronizing tone than anything else. I instantly felt protective and slightly territorial. Okay, more than slightly.
I know starting something up with anyone, let alone my sister’s best friend, is the last thing I need to be doing, it doesn’t mean I want someone else to have her. That kiss last night sparked something in me that I didn’t know existed. I’m not a possessive guy, but I swear I want to beat the shit out of any guy who thinks about putting his hands on her and that’s only after one kiss. I can’t imagine what spending time with her would do for my suddenly discovered caveman reaction.
After Dominguez left, I only meant to stay long enough to apologize for last night and promise nothing like that would happen again. Then she cried and we laughed. Suddenly, the tension was gone. I enjoyed talking to her and now find myself trying to come up with a reason to stay longer.
I lay my head back on the couch and take in a long breath. I can hear her mumbling to herself in the kitchen. She has to be feeling what I am. Or, maybe she isn’t. Maybe I’m reading all of this wrong and I’m about to make a complete ass of myself.
What kind of moron lets someone like Piper go? No, what kind of asshole throws her away? I shake my head in disbelief; it’s unimaginable to me.
“You doing okay there, cowboy?”
That voice, it sends my pulse running. I turn my head to look at Piper as she sets a tray on the table and cocks her head toward me. Damn, she’s beautiful.
“Huh?”
Wow, Ben, you have a way with words.
She smiles at me and shakes her own head. I sit up and look at the tray she’s set down. As promised she’s set out a little bit of savory and a little bit of sweet. I reach over and grab a piece of bread and dip it in the bowl of creamy goodness and reach for my beer. Time to peel off the Band-Aid.
“Thanks, that’s good stuff. What is it?”
“Just some dip I had in the fridge. So, umm, I was thinking.”
“About?” I ask as I reach for more dip. This shit really is good.
“Last night. Obviously we were drunk and it was a misunderstanding. We should just pretend it didn’t happen and be done with it.”
And here I thought I was going to have to be the bad guy. That kind of stings.
“I wasn’t, it wasn’t, and no.�
�
“What?” Piper questions as she furrows her perfect brows in a way that manages to make her look more adorable than she did flustered in the kitchen.
“I wasn’t drunk, it wasn’t a misunderstanding, and I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Oh. Uh, well, uh…”
I grab a napkin from the table and wipe my hands before turning toward her.
“Look, this is a really awkward conversation,” I say as I run a hand through my hair. “I like you, Piper. Not just because you’re my sister’s best friend and I’ve known you forever, but because you’re smart, funny, a little sassy, and I like talking to you. Plus, you know, gorgeous.”
I take a quick breath before she can reply.
“That being said, it can’t happen again. I just ended a long relationship and am starting all over. I’m living in my childhood bedroom for Pete’s sake. I’m in no position to start something up. Plus, I promised Ash I wouldn’t and I don’t break promises to my sister. So, I just wanted to say that if this were a different time and we didn’t have Ash to consider, I wouldn’t be sitting here eating dip and talking about kindergarten marriage proposals.”
“You, you wouldn’t?” she asks with big saucer sized eyes.
“No, Piper, I wouldn’t. But, that doesn’t matter. I’d like to be your friend though. And, your friend, not just Ash’s big brother. What do you say to that?”
She’s still staring at me with wide eyes and now her mouth is gaping. I smile and shake my head and stand. She seems to gather herself and stands to follow me as I head to the door.
“So, friends?” I ask as I open the door.
“What? Oh, yeah, of course. Friends. Absolutely. And, co-workers,” she replies and offers me a smile. It’s another closed mouth smile. The smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. The smile that tells me she’s thinking again.
“Right, co-workers. We still have a few weeks until school starts but I’m sure I’ll see you around. You’re going to the lake with us next weekend, right?”
The mention of the lake must be a neutralizer because she offers me a full smile. The smile that calls my dick to attention and the smile that makes me curse my sister just a little.
“Actually, Ben, I think the question is are you going to the lake with us next weekend. We go every year for Ash’s birthday, you just haven’t been around to join us.”
“Ouch. You’re right, I’ve kind of sucked the last few years. Yes, Piper, I’ll be at the lake next weekend with you all. But don’t forget, if you have a headache tomorrow from that third glass of wine, I’ll bring you Rosa’s.”
“I’ll be fine, but thanks,” she says as I step out on to the landing. Before she can say goodbye I turn toward her.
“And, I’m sorry for making your situation with Dominguez worse with that text. He’s a dick though, Piper. Please promise me if he gives you any more trouble you’ll call me.” I look directly in her dancing whiskey-colored eyes. I want her to feel my sincerity in the apology and seriousness that I will deal with Tony if he so much as says one negative word to her.
“It’s okay, he deserved to feel like shit. Well, as much as he capable of anyway. Tony won’t be any trouble, he’s really harmless. And, even though he’s a horrible boyfriend, he’s not a bad guy.”
“Just call me if you need anything, okay?”
She nods. “Goodnight, Ben.”
“Night, Piper,” I say as she closes the door and I turn toward the steps. I hesitate before I start down until I hear the lock click.
As I drive home, I contemplate a stop at Country Road to have a drink and decide against it. My mind is full of Piper and the last thing I need is for Ash to ask where I’ve been. I know we haven’t done anything wrong and no lines were crossed but I still feel protective of my time with Piper.
I hate that a part of me feels like I’m betraying my years with Laurel, that I’m not giving our relationship the respect it deserves. I absolutely loved Laurel; I still do. But this pull I have to Piper and the immediate sense of familiarity and connection is something we didn’t have. Considering I’ve had two serious relationships and didn’t experience anything remotely close to what I have felt in the last twenty-four hours, I’m feeling a little dazed.
Once I’m parked in front of the house, I take a few minutes to just sit and take it in. This house, this street, this town, they all represent the person I was and have me questioning the person I am and who I want to be.
Leaving home at eighteen, I was convinced I had all the answers. Like many driven teenagers, my future seemed laid out with a perfect plan of a successful career, wife, kids, and weekend fishing trips. The reality of it all is life can’t be planned. The man who believes the ideals of a boy hold his future is a fool.
I reach for my phone and notice the light blinking that I have a message. A quick swipe has me smiling instantly.
Piper: Thanks again for coming to my rescue.
Me: It’s what a knight in shining armor does.
Piper: Good grief.
She manages to make me smile even by text. I get out of the truck and make my way up the drive when my phone pings again.
Piper: Weatherman just said a storm is coming, better make sure the armor doesn’t rust cowboy.
Me: Cowboy?
Piper: Best Halloween of all time.
Me: Well if your best Halloween memory is when you were 8, we have a problem.
Piper: Night Ben.
Me: Night, Princess Piper.
I chuckle to myself at the memory of Piper dressed as a princess and demanding we all call her Princess Piper. She was a force to be reckoned with when she was little. Bossy, silly, and always wanting to dress Jameson and me up like peasants or something equally boring. Then something happened when she hit those awkward years. I guess part of that had to do with the age difference. Somehow at eight and eleven it didn’t feel like much of an age difference. By the time I was thirteen the difference seemed like light years and Ashton and Piper were more annoying than fun to hang out with.
I open the back door and am slightly startled by the shadow at the table also known as my dad sneaking his late-night bowl of ice cream. As long as I can remember, my dad has snuck down to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream. Obviously if I know about it, it’s likely my mom does, too. I think that’s one of their secrets to a happy marriage – her pretending she doesn’t know and him still calling it sneaking.
“Hey, Pop,” I say as make my way to the cupboard to make my own bowl.
“Don’t tell your mother you saw me down here.”
I laugh and take a seat at the table with him.
“Dad, I’m pretty sure it’s not sneaking anymore. You’ve been coming down here at this time my entire life.”
“It didn’t used to be sneaking, but now it really is. Your mother is on some sort of kick about my diet and is driving me nuts. I’ve been hiding these small containers of ice cream in frozen broccoli bags. You know your mother would never look in a bag of broccoli.”
That’s true. Mom has some random fear of broccoli. I’ve never understood it but she calls them creepy little trees and refuses to cook them.
“Well played, Pop.”
“Where were you tonight? Out with the guys again?”
“Nah, I’m going to check out my classroom tomorrow so no late night for me.”
Dad finishes his last bite of ice cream and starts to stand. I stop midway with the bite of ice cream on my spoon with a look of confusion as I watch him sit back down.
“How are you doing about all of this change? I know you’re a bit, uh, how should I put this?”
I set the spoon down and sit back in my chair, crossing my arms defensively.
“Oh, Ben, don’t go getting all shut off from me. I just want to make sure all this change is okay. I know you like to live life with a plan and this all came on sudden.”
Wow, getting called out by your dad at twenty-nine is as shitty as it is at seventeen. I put my
arms down and release the tension in my shoulders. I don’t know why my instinct was to become defensive. I know my dad means well and he’s right, I prefer a life plan and not having one is a little out of character for me.
“Come on, I’m not that bad. Yeah this is a lot of change but you know that I have always wanted to come home and teach. I loved, no, I love Laurel, but we aren’t forever. I think we’ve both known that for a while and just needed this change to push us both along. I’m happy to be home, happy to be teaching at Peabody, and I really am happy at the prospect of finding my own place,” I tease as I take a spoonful of my ice cream and pop it in my mouth.
“Well, son, I will say that at this point in our lives your mother and I didn’t plan on having either you or your sister home, let alone both. So, ya know, if you need help finding a place let me know.”
“I don’t think I want to even have this conversation if it’s going where I think it is. So, maybe we just say goodnight?” I ask as I grab his bowl and mine and head to the sink. The idea of where my dad was going with that statement has suddenly made this delicious ice cream turn to acid in my stomach.
Dad approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder, “You’re a man, Ben, and I don’t think we need to have this conversation. Goodnight, son.”
Damn, I need to get settled in this job and start actively looking for a place. I shudder at what I may walk into one afternoon. Visibly shiver. Let Ash walk in on that shit. A smirk takes over my face as I contemplate if that’s a possibility. Setting it up so Ash does walk in on that. Oh dang, she’d shit herself.
I finish cleaning up the kitchen and hit the light as I begin up the stairs to my room. I stop for a minute at the pictures displayed on the walk up the stairway. Moments of time that my mom has deemed “the” moments of our lives. These aren’t silly posed school photos; no, these are moments from our lives displayed for everyone to see.
The first I stop and look at is a picture of Ashton’s first birthday. She’s pretty in pink with her ruffled skirt, sparkly crown, and cowgirl boots on sitting before a big cake. The look in her eyes is the same one she has every time she’s thinking up a prank, mischievous and innocent at the same time. I am, of course, nearby in the photo. I have the most annoyed look on my face and you can just see my hand sneaking up from the side to steal a piece of her cake.
Whiskey & Honey Page 5