He laughed out loud, and she grinned.
“Happy to oblige.”
They both fell back asleep soon afterward, and he didn’t wake up again until his phone buzzed from the floor. Damn it, he’d meant to turn it on silent.
He leaned down to grab it—his brother, his fourth text since last night. Ben grinned and dropped his phone back on the floor, then turned to Anna’s side of the bed. She was wide awake, wrapped in a towel, her phone in her hand.
“Oh, you’re up. You’ve been up. You should have woken me.”
She waved that away.
“You needed the rest—you’re the one who did all of the driving yesterday, remember? And our postdrive activities were”—her eyes danced at him—“athletic.”
Oh, thank goodness this morning wasn’t going to be weird and awkward. He’d worried about that when he’d seen her already showered—that she didn’t even want to talk to him enough to wake him up. That would have made the drive home supremely bad.
“They were indeed,” he said. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. “Are you hungry? Because I just realized I’m starving. It’s been a long time since that In-N-Out.”
Anna picked up the room service menu and waved it at him.
“I’ll call. What’s your room service breakfast of choice?”
“Pancakes, bacon, coffee,” he said. “I’m a simple man with simple breakfast tastes, Anna.”
She picked up the phone.
“I respect that.”
As he got out of the shower, he heard her open the door to room service. When he came out of the bathroom, he kept the towel around his waist, in case the room service guy was still there, but it was just Anna and the food in the room.
“You take long showers,” she said.
He picked up a piece of bacon. Excellent; it wasn’t that flabby, badly cooked room service bacon, but the good, crispy kind.
“I do. My brother used to get so mad at me for it when we were kids. I started taking longer showers first just to be a dick to him, because I was a little asshole, and then I guess I got used to them. I do all my best thinking in there.”
She cut her sausage link in half and popped it into her mouth.
“What good thinking did you do this morning?”
He sat down on the bed next to her and poured syrup on his pancakes.
“I think we need to get you some clothes.”
She shot him a perplexed look.
“That’s not at all what I was expecting you to say.”
He took a bite of his pancakes, then gestured to the clothes littering the floor of the room.
“You wore that outfit for, what, twenty hours yesterday? Do you really want to put it on today, for another seven-hour drive back north?”
“Well, not really, but . . .”
He kept talking.
“And God forbid anyone recognizes you today. Do you want to be in day-old clothes if that happens? I’m sure you have some makeup in that enormous bag of yours, and you can figure out your hair, but after that deer-in-the-headlights look you gave me at In-N-Out yesterday, I don’t think you want to deal with people recognizing you today looking like this.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with my hair?”
He leaned forward and kissed her lips. She had a smile on her face as she kissed him back.
“Your hair is incredibly hot this morning, but you probably don’t want a stranger taking pictures of you looking quite so sexy at a rest stop along Highway 5.”
She bit his lip softly, then pulled back.
“You have a point. For both the hair and the clothes. But how are we going to accomplish the latter? I can’t try on anything, and I don’t even know what stores they have here.”
He ate some more pancakes before answering.
“Leave it to me. You don’t have to look like a movie star, just not . . .” He couldn’t figure out a way to end that sentence in a polite way.
“Like a scrub? I get it.” She looked at him for a long moment. She was measuring him up, he could tell. “Okay, fine. Sure, why not? This will be an adventure, at least.”
He put the last piece of bacon into his mouth and stood up.
“Excellent.” He pulled his jeans on, and then his T-shirt and winced. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something for myself, too. I’ll be back soon.”
When he was safely in the car, he scrolled through his phone. He’d talked a good game in there, but he needed some help with this. Luckily, he knew exactly the right person.
“Hello?”
“Maddie! Oh, thank God. I need you.”
There was a pause.
“What do you need, Ben?” his brother’s girlfriend said in that long-suffering way older sisters always did. Granted, he didn’t have an older sister, or any sister at all, but he could imagine.
Well. He might be wrong about that last part. He’d worry about that later.
“Okay, first,” he said to Maddie, “I need you to swear you’ll keep this a secret.”
There was a much longer pause. Too late, Ben figured out why.
“Not from my brother! You can tell him all of this. Just from everyone else in the world.”
“Oh!” Maddie’s voice was relieved. “Yeah, I can do that. What’s up?”
He took a deep breath.
“Okay, the background to this is very long and I’m sure my brother has told or will tell you some of it anyway, but I’m in a rush here so I’m going to cut to the chase—I am currently on my way to buy an outfit for Anna Gardiner to wear as we drive seven hours from Palm Springs back to the Bay Area. The goal is for her to not be recognized, but if she is, she needs to look good in pictures. You’re a stylist, this is your job; please tell me what to buy for her, because I acted like I knew exactly what I was doing and I do not at all know what I’m doing.”
Maddie burst out laughing.
“Only you, Ben, would call me with this dilemma and have it be real and not a hoax. Is there time for me to ask questions like why you’re in Palm Springs and why you’re driving from there home instead of flying, or why she needs you—of all people—to buy her a new outfit or at least ten other questions I have in my head?”
He was going to get the loudest voice mail message from his brother in about ten minutes.
“Not really, no, but I promise, I’ll answer all of those questions and more when I get home if you help me out here.”
Maddie laughed again.
“I figured. Okay, give me two minutes to look up pictures of her style, and three more to figure out stores. I’ll text you. You owe me all of the details for this one.”
He sighed.
“Trust me, I know.”
* * *
—
As soon as Ben left the room, Anna had doubts. Many of them. He’d been so convincing when he proposed this shopping idea that she’d agreed. And yes, he’d been right that she didn’t want to wear her same yoga pants and T-shirt and hoodie from yesterday again.
But what did he know about shopping for her—or any woman? Did he have any idea what would look good on her? She had a bad feeling about this.
As she sat there and waited for Ben to come back, she got more and more stressed, but not just about the clothes thing. About the night before.
Not the sex—that part had been great. Really great. But why did she have to start crying afterward? And if she had to cry, why couldn’t she have waited until she was sure he was asleep? And also, why did she spill her guts to Ben about why she’d started crying? Granted, she couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said to him, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t told him the whole story, but she’d still told him more than she’d told almost anyone. Ben had mentioned therapy in passing on the drive down here
yesterday, so she knew at least he wouldn’t be a jerk about that part, but still. Was he going to bring up what she’d said last night and ask questions she didn’t necessarily want to answer?
And even if he didn’t, was he going to want too much from her, after they’d had sex? Did she have to make it clear that that’s all last night was? Ugh. Today had the potential to be very stressful.
What the hell was she even doing? With one phone call, she could be on a plane from Palm Springs back to San Francisco, with no need to wait for a weird and probably ugly and ill-fitting new outfit from a man who was excellent in bed but who she didn’t know much else about. And did she really want to do another day-long drive today?
But . . . she couldn’t abandon Ben like that. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to abandon Ben like that. She had no idea if their drive back up north would be as comfortable as their drive down south—sometimes sex could make things awkward, and it might be even more so after her middle-of-the-night, ill-advised, tearful revelations—but they still had another week of working together, so she might as well see what it would be like.
She pulled out her phone while she waited. There was a text from her brother.
I should have known you would do that. How did mom and dad look?
Oops. She should have texted Chris last night to confess all after leaving the hospital. But, well . . . she’d been a little distracted.
Don’t let mom make you feel bad about telling me (I’m sure she’s already tried). I didn’t mean to come down to Palm Springs! But well, one thing led to another. And dad’s ok, so all’s well that ends well. (I know. I owe you one). Mom looked tired, Dad looked fine, after all that
By the time she poured herself some more coffee, Chris had already replied.
She did already try, but it didn’t work. And yes, you owe me one. But I know you’re good for it. He really seemed ok?
She’d always known Chris wasn’t as chill as he seemed.
He really seemed ok. I swear.
She should also check in on her parents.
How are you feeling today? Please take it easy, both of you!
Her mom was the one to text back.
Your dad is feeling fine today, but we’re both a little tired. Don’t worry, all we’re going to do today is drive around and look at some trees—with plenty of water!
Hmm. That had better be true.
Ben wasn’t back yet. Did he even know her sizes? She searched through her email for his number.
Everything okay? Do you need any help with the shopping?
She realized a few seconds later that he didn’t have this number.
This is Anna, by the way.
He texted back right away.
Heading back now! How’s your dad, have you heard from them? (I knew this was Anna)
She laughed at that.
Just now, mom says dad’s doing ok!
A few minutes later, Ben threw open the hotel room door.
“Okay, Cinderella, time for the ball!” He had a big grin on his face, and two very full bags in his hands. Anna had to laugh, no matter how doubtful she was about this whole shopping excursion.
“What . . . what all did you get?” she asked.
He came over to where she was sitting on the bed.
“Well, I wanted you to have options! Plus, I had no idea how anything would fit, so I just grabbed what seemed like it would work. Oh, and I also stopped at Target”—he held up one bag—“to get something for me to wear. And some snacks, you know, for the road.”
“Okay,” she said. Was he stalling? It seemed like he was stalling. She wiggled her fingers at him.
“Show me,” she said.
He smiled at her, but . . . shyly? She’d only known Ben for a little while, but that wasn’t a descriptor she’d ever expected to use about him. She held back a grin. Despite her misgivings, this was pretty adorable.
“Okay!” he said. He dropped the bags on the bed and pulled something out of one of them. He held it up for her to see.
“Do you like it? I thought you might like it, but I wasn’t sure. You seem like you like colorful things—I don’t know why I think that, you were wearing all black yesterday, maybe it’s too bright?”
He was babbling. It was so cute.
As was the dress. It was a T-shirt dress, pink, with a blue and orange embroidered design on it. Very Palm Springs.
“I love it. Let me try it on.”
She grabbed the dress out of his hands and stood up, letting her robe drop to the floor. It was fun to see his eyes widen at her in a bra and nothing else.
She pulled the dress over her head, and he whistled.
“Well, I think that looks fucking incredible on you, but it might turn a few heads if you have to go to the bathroom somewhere.”
She looked at herself in the mirror, and she could see what he meant. This dress hugged her curves perfectly, which meant it was a little snug—and a little short—for an incognito day.
He tossed another dress at her.
“This is the same dress, just in a different size and another color, in case you didn’t want to be quite so visible.”
This one was in black, but with orange and pink embroidery. She put it on and then reached into her bag and grabbed her enormous sunglasses.
“How’s this?” she asked him.
He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. That wasn’t what she was expecting.
“The dress is perfect, even though it obscures some of your glory.”
She grinned.
“Nice way to put that, but?”
He took a few steps over to her and gently slid the sunglasses off of her face.
“But these sunglasses are too movie star.” He reached into the Target bag. “Luckily, I got you these.” He tossed her a pair of plain black plastic sunglasses. “And . . .” He looked down, not meeting her eyes. “I thought you might want these, too. I wasn’t, um, sure on style, so I got a few options.” He handed her the bag, and then turned to pull a T-shirt for himself out of a different bag. She glanced down and was charmed to see an assortment of underwear—some cotton, some silky, a few bikinis, one thong. All, if she wasn’t mistaken, the right size. She plucked the red cotton bikinis out of the pile and pulled them on.
“It’s like you’re Santa Claus over there,” she said. “What else do you have in those bags?”
He was pulling his jeans back up over his hips. He must have put on his own new underwear already. She’d unfortunately been so distracted by the underwear he’d bought her that she’d missed that.
“Just a plain black dress for you in case I’d gotten the other stuff wrong. Don’t worry, the snacks are all in the car waiting for us.” He took off his shirt, and she let herself stare openly. Mmm, yes, she was glad she’d given in to temptation. She hadn’t even noticed that tattoo on his biceps last night; she’d been too busy. She wanted to trace it with her fingertips. And then trail her hands over to his chest and move her hands down, and down. The way his jeans clung to his hips . . . No, no, they didn’t have time; they needed to get on the road soon if they were going to get back to San Francisco before too late.
He was suddenly much closer to her. His shirt was still off.
“We have thirty minutes before we have to be out of the room,” he said in a low voice.
She reached for his chest. She couldn’t help herself.
“Do we really?” she asked.
They made it, with three minutes to spare.
Once they were back on the freeway, with the date shakes he’d insisted on stopping for on the way out of town, she looked over at him. She suddenly started laughing and couldn’t stop.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
She gestured at the car.
“Everything! All of this! You, me, the piles of Doritos in
this car, my new clothes, your new clothes, that we’re leaving Palm Springs right now when we should be halfway through our workday in San Francisco, that you drove me down here in the middle of the night last night because you could tell I was freaking out, that my dad is okay, everything!”
“Don’t forget that I had to wheedle our way into a hotel room,” he said.
“Oh, right! How could I forget Niamh?” She went off into another peal of laughter, and he joined her.
They were quiet for the first few hours of the drive. Not in an awkward way, thank God, just relaxed, easy, comfortable. She put music on again, but it was less aggressively cheerful music than the day before, more Andra Day and Corinne Bailey Rae than Britney and Lizzo. They didn’t talk much, and they didn’t touch at all, but she somehow felt as close to him as she had in bed the night before. When she’d cried, and he’d pulled her close. And—in one of the sweetest things a man had ever said to her—had offered to leave the room if she’d wanted him to. That had only made her want to burrow herself even tighter into his chest.
And that, of course, was the thing that had made her spill her guts to him. She remembered now.
“Um, about last night,” she said.
He shot her a grin, but his smile turned to something else when he saw the look on her face. Something softer. More kind.
“Anna. We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.”
She put her hand on his.
“No, I know. I want to. And telling you why . . . why I had a little breakdown last night, or rather, this morning, might help explain why I needed to come to Palm Springs so urgently in the first place.”
He turned his hand over and held on to hers.
“Okay. I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath. Why was she even doing this? She didn’t have to tell him all of this. But she’d already told him part of it, and she couldn’t take it back. She’d feel better if he knew the whole story.
While We Were Dating Page 11