by Mia Kay
“I’ll miss this in London.”
“There’s the river,” she said.
“The Thames is nothing like this. And where are we going to run?”
“Somewhere no one can see you kick my ass,” she teased.
Bennett dropped his chin to her shoulder. “Why did you hide this from me?”
“The Hulu interview didn’t even have my name under my face. I was an unnamed executive, and the crush of my fans collapsed an entire communication system because they wanted to know about the movie. When my agent put out feelers for my coming out party, they crashed his site. And for what?”
She sighed. “I’m a geek. I spend most of my time working at home, wrapped up in an alternate universe. Social media is driving me crazy, and Twitter is from the devil himself. I run out of food, and I’ve started buying underwear in bulk because I keep forgetting to do laundry. I hate department store underwear.”
“Thank God,” he teased, and she elbowed him.
“I lost my toothbrush this morning,” she confessed.
“How did you—”
“I don’t know. I had to buy another one on the way to work.”
She slumped against him. “I did that interview, unplugged, and got on the plane to Austria. No one would have recognized my face. But my name? I had nightmares about being chased from the Spanish Riding School by a horde of people with questions. One Tweet with a picture and I’d have been doomed. My mother and I would’ve had to come home, and it would’ve broken her heart. So I lied. And then I met you, and I didn’t know how to get out of it. ‘By the way, I’m kinda famous’ made me sound like an egomaniac or a nut.”
He grimaced and nodded. “There was this part of me, a very small part, that wondered why you didn’t recognize me.”
“So you’re the egomaniac, and I’m the nut,” she teased. She looked into his eyes and felt his breath on her skin.
“The crowd thing isn’t all about being recognized, is it?” she asked.
“It’s sensory overload. I’ve never been good with them.”
“You’re reserved, and shy, and quiet, and private. And I just described the antithesis to my fan-base,” she explained. “I knew the cat was coming out of the bag, and I knew what it would put you through. You’ve seen my life, even during those wacky months on Skype. Whoever is involved with me either stays home and gets ignored or comes with me and gets overlooked.”
“Or they have fun with you. Grace, watching your mind is like watching a child play in this sand. You glow when you work. Did you know that?”
She shook her head, fighting tears.
Cradling her jaw, he kept her from hiding. “You’re bloody blinding, and any man who’s not told you so, including me, is daft.”
Grace kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Nobby.”
He tightened his hold and brushed his lips across her skin, following the angle of her cheekbone to her lips. The pressure was so light she might have imagined it except for the heat of his breath. She turned into it. “Ben.”
“Finally,” he groaned.
The second kiss wasn’t imagined. His lips roved her face from her eyelids to her chin and then across her jaw. He nibbled on one ear while his fingers traced the shell of the other.
When he finally claimed her mouth, she opened beneath him with a sigh. Leaning in, she traced his lips with the tip of her tongue and slipped her hand under his jacket. His heart hammered under her palm and that rumble shook her clear to the elbow. The hand on her jaw shifted to the nape of her neck and tangled in her hair.
Taking advantage of his support as he curled closer, she curved her other hand around his head and anchored him to her. He smelled like heaven and tasted better, and his silky, fine hair slipped through her fingers.
When he stroked her spine, it set her skin aflame. She wanted to be free of this straightjacket of a dress with the cool sand at her back and his heat at her front. His tongue invaded her mouth, then retreated. Invaded. Retreated. Invaded . . .
The sensual rhythm made her hungry, and she indulged. Tasting his lips, she chased after his tongue, wound around it, and swallowed his groans.
The kiss ended with both of them gasping for breath, their foreheads touching.
“I’m never going to be able to kiss you like it’s our first date,” he grumbled.
“Thank God.”
He lifted his head and pulled her hand from his chest. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re making it damned hard.”
She collapsed against his shoulder in a fit of laughter.
“Difficult,” he chuckled. “Difficult.”
She regained her composure and eyed him. “What are you trying to say?”
“I know it sounds weird, given our history, but I’d like to date you. It’s important to me.”
“It does sound a bit odd, but it’s also incredibly sweet.” Grace kissed his cheek and moved away. “If it’s important to you, we’ll do it your way.”
He stood, picked up their bucket, and offered his hand. “Chivvy on. I’ll take you home before I change my mind.”
As he helped her into the car, she saw a box in the back seat.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
All the way home, she kept glancing behind her, wondering about the glittery package tied with a bright purple ribbon.
Once at her door, he pressed a kiss to her lips and the box into her hands. He stopped her fingers on the bow. “Wait until I’m gone, please.”
She didn’t have long to wait. He loped to the car and waved as he slid behind the wheel. Clutching her gift, she watched the taillights disappear through the gate.
Grace set the package in the middle of the table and forced her hands away from temptation, aiming her steps down the hall. Stripping, she shook the sand and salt from her dress and showered. It took three washes to get all the makeup removed and the styling gunk out of her hair.
Comfortable in her pajamas, she perched on a kitchen chair and untied the ribbon. Showing incredible restraint, she slipped a fingernail under the tape, freeing the seams along the edges. Then she ripped the paper like a hungry lioness tearing into a ham sandwich.
Inside the box were several smaller packages, each labeled.
From Denmark there were earrings that looked like drops of rain. I can imagine these with your green dress, teasing me through your hair.
In Belgium he’d found a handmade journal and a wooden pen carved and then inlaid with shells and stones. Your vacation journal was almost full. I hope you use this to write about all the things we do together. And I hope you let me read it.
From Ireland, there were knitted turquoise gloves. These will keep your hands warm until I can hold them, and turquoise is still my favorite color.
From Turkey came a delicate batik silk tunic. This reminds me of your skin against mine in the dark.
From Greece, there was a bone white bookmark with an azure stone. The coast here is beautiful. You’d love the sunshine, and I’d like to know if you tan.
From London, there was a thick, heavy, gold bracelet. Happy Christmas, my Idgie.
Without design or embellishment, it was hammered in an irregular texture. Once she touched it, it warmed with her body heat. Each bump and dip in the surface encouraged her to explore further. She couldn’t stop stroking it.
The light caught the inscription on the inside curve. If only you were here.
She opened the card with numb fingers.
I thought of you constantly. I’d see a place you would like, and I’d reach for your hand. Someone would tell a story, and I’d hear your laugh. I spent hours in the library of every city. I should have never let you leave me.
I’ve always wanted you to have these, but
I wasn’t sure when or how. This seemed like the proper time. I wanted to see your face when you opened them, but now I’m afraid to watch. I hope you like them. Dear God, Grace, I hope so many things.
She sat with the note in one hand while her other traced the gifts he’d purchased and saved for her. Tears fell until she lost track of time. Finally coming to her senses, she went in search of her phone.
He answered on the second ring. “H-hullo?”
His hesitant whisper was unrecognizable.
“Ben?” She moved the phone away to avoid sniffing in his ear.
“Are you crying? Grace, please don’t cry.”
“Why didn’t you want to see me open them?”
“Because I lost my bottle.”
“Huh?” she asked as she wiped her cheeks.
“My nerve,” he explained. “Besides, I wanted you to have them with no strings attached. They were always yours.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you like them?”
“They’re beautiful. All of them.”
“I’m . . . glad.” His smile was audible, and she imagined him staring at the floor to hide his eyes. “When I didn’t hear from you—”
“I was trying not to be greedy. The bracelet is my favorite.” She ran her fingers around the circle. “I can’t stop touching it.”
“I know the feeling. It’s late, you should get some rest.”
Despite her belief she’d never sleep again, Grace sat all her treasures on her nightstand and snuggled under the covers. Her pillow cooled her heated cheek. She blinked once, twice.
And woke with the alarm four hours later.
At eight a.m., she yawned and watched one of the studio vans wind down the driveway. It was time for the LARP.
Meg and Paul were already aboard in the middle row, Morris and Susan sat in the back, and Ben waited on her in the front row. Max was their driver and Josh, their host, rode shotgun.
As she sat, Ben pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “Good morning—”
A paper cup hit him in the back of the head.
“It’s about frickin’ time,” Susan hooted. “I thought you’d never get off your ass.”
“Idgie,” Ben continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted. Then he picked up the cup and hurled it back at Susan.
“Don’t make me pull over,” Max yelled over his shoulder.
Grace munched on one of Meg’s homemade breakfast sandwiches, sipped coffee, and watched the coastline fly past the window while Ben talked with Paul. Fed, warm, and relaxed, she let the rumble of his voice lull her to sleep.
He nudged her awake as they slowed to a stop. The passengers emerged into a clearing surrounded by forest and then ringed by weathered limestone crags and cliffs. In the meadow, thirty or so of Josh’s friends were mingling with the crewmembers who had already arrived. Gino was inspecting the weapons of choice—squirt guns and water balloons.
A few makeshift sets had been cobbled together, and the costumes were clearly second or third hand. It was enchanting, and Ben offered his hand before she could reach for it.
The players walked forward as if they expected an invasion instead of visitors. Even Josh fell silent as his worlds collided.
Finally, one of the pack broke loose. “Hi, I’m Jason. This is my girlfriend, Molly. Back there is John, Sara, Mike, Tammy, Pat, Eddie, and Matt.” He offered his hand. “We’re glad you’re here, Ms. Donnelley.”
“Grace, please. And it’s my pleasure. This is incredible.” She motioned everyone on her side forward and pointed out, much the same way he had done. “Max, Paul, Meg, Susan, Morris, and Ben.” She centered her gaze on Molly. “Why don’t you show me around while everyone else gets acquainted?”
After the tour, she rejoined the group at the weapons table, where they were assigned battle positions.
“The kid playing Weathermore looks like he’s twelve. I feel ancient,” Ben grumbled as he shoved a water pistol into the waistband of his jeans.
“Hey.” Susan elbowed him. “That’s your third weapon. You can’t be hoarding all the good stuff.”
“Really?” He stared at the Supersoaker she held in front of her as if she was preparing to battle the Terminator.
The day flew by, coated in laughter, sunshine, and water. Grace and Susan stopped at the edge of the clearing to watch as Ben emerged from his post unscathed.
“Oh, that is so not fair,” Grace whined. “I’m covered in mud, and he’s not even wet.”
“Not yet.” Susan pointed as Paul, Beau, Max, and Gino led the younger members of the group on a pincer sneak attack, putting Ben in the center of a wet crossfire. The shock on his face was priceless. Then he dropped to his knees, arms outstretched, and died a heroic, watery death.
Grace wiped away tears of laughter as she watched him bounce to his feet and shake the water from his hair. He wore a broad, loopy smile as he joined the guys and they regressed into boyish schoolyard play.
Jason met them in the middle of the clearing.
“This was great. Seriously.” Grace looked around as dusk fell. Campfires had started, giving the set a post-apocalyptic feel. “I could have never imagined this.”
“Umm, we usually do a group picture. We’d love to have you all in it. If you’d rather not, we’d understand.”
Everyone nodded their agreement, but all eyes turned to Ben.
“Sure. I’d like a few people to know I’m not a grouch.” He grinned at the young game master. “As long as I get a hat.”
Everyone milled together, and Ben slapped his new hat on his head as he pulled her close. He smelled like fresh air, dirt, and sweat. His wide smile glittered, and his eyes danced. He put her back to his front and whispered, “Smile, doll.”
After the picture, Jason made another offer. “You guys are welcome for dinner. It’s just college camping food. Beer, burgers and dogs, s’mores. We’re gonna hang out for the evening and enjoy the air.”
Which was how Grace ended up in the light of a campfire watching Bennett Oliver in a spare surfer t-shirt, muddy jeans, and a LARP baseball cap as he played guitar with Pat and Mike while Max thumped a soft rhythm on a set of hand drums.
She left her spot at the fire and wandered through the set. Wooden storefronts covered tents, and costumes hung in anticipation of the next game. Props were cleaned and put away. With every piece she touched, she heard the descriptions she’d agonized over, edited, and researched.
“You okay?” Ben’s question pulled her from her reverie. “I looked up and you were gone.”
“Do you know how much work they must have put into this?” she asked. “Even secondhand, it must have cost them a relative fortune.”
“Jason says they leave it up all year,” Ben said. “His grandfather owns the property.”
She stroked a modified water pistol, recognizing it as the one she’d drawn on her table as Zadie’s favorite weapon. “All those years ago, I wrote this crazy story and wondered if anyone would ever read it. And look at this.”
“It’s not only you, you know? Susan and I have been asking each other the same thing since the library. It’s daunting to know kids like this will be hanging on our every word. It makes us want to start over.”
She shook her head. “The dailies I’ve seen are spot on. We’re keeping everything important. But I want to do something for them.”
“Invite them to the premiere,” he suggested. “They can sit with us and then go to the party.”
“You really do like it here, don’t you? I’ve always worried you’d think all this was too weird. It’s not like anything you’re used to.”
“True, that.”
Something about his voice made her follow his gaze to groups of college students lounging under towering cliffs and trees. The stars looked close enough to touch
. It really was magical.
A violin began, a drum joined, then a flute. Ben wrapped her in his arms and swayed to the rhythm.
She looked up at his chin and jaw. “I didn’t know you played the guitar.”
“I like it. It’s something I can do between scenes,” he whispered. “Meg has suggested we stay out here. I think she and Paul are having almost as much fun as we are. And I know Susan and Morris are keen to stay.”
“Fine with me. I could use one last night of peace before we leave for London.”
“It’ll get weird on locations, Grace. Long hours, cramped quarters, frustration with the weather, racing the clock. There’s a reason Susan isn’t letting Morris come with her.”
“I can’t stay away,” she warned him.
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he said, grinning. “Gino would be lost without you.”
When the song ended, he walked with her hand in hand. Before they left the cover of darkness, he kissed her until her knees wobbled. “Goodnight.”
“You mean to tell me you’re not—”
“Hell no, of course I’m sleeping next to you. I’d be daft to ignore a gift like that. But if I kiss you then, I won’t stop, and well, there are some things I don’t do in public.” He winked. “Not many, mind you.”
Curled together on their blanket, Grace enjoyed the weight of his arm around her and the solid warmth of his body against her back. The music had continued without them, and now the crack of the fire added accompaniment. Her eyes drifted closed.
“Zadie goes back for Ian?” Ben murmured the question. “From your reading last week, I gathered they’re together at some point.”
“Since book two.” She looked over her shoulder. “Didn’t you know?”
He shook his head. “I’ve only read the first one, and Fiona refuses to lend me the others. She doesn’t want it to affect my performance. She’s taking her new position very seriously.”