She laughed. “Nothing’s typical when it comes to kids. Girls get into just as many scrapes. Lissa has had her share of bumps and bruises. And at the rate she’s going, I’m sure Stacey will, too.”
“It’s a lot to deal with, isn’t it? A big responsibility, watching over kids.”
“So, you’ve noticed.” She’d said the words with a hint of irony, but the fact that he had noticed pleased her. Maybe now he would give her some credit. Would accept the fact that she could take care of her kids.
“I never realized it involved so much worry,” he said. “And so much work. Especially with three of them.”
“It can be challenging. They’re a handful at times.”
“I see that.” He shook his head. “And here you’ve been dealing with this on your own. I told you I’m here to help. You can depend on that, doubled. Or maybe I should say tripled. I’ll make it a point to stop in as much as I can.”
Here we go again. It was all she could do not to snap at him. “Ben, I appreciate that, thank you. But—”
“No thanks necessary,” he interrupted. “Maybe you have managed all right alone. Now you don’t have to.” He stared her down. “At least, not around this house.”
Obviously, he’d set his mind on that. And now he’d set his jaw, too. Eyes glittering, he stood taller and looked even more determined.
And very, very sexy.
She backed up a step, shaking her head, whether in response to her thoughts or his words, she couldn’t tell.
“I’m going to pack it in for the day,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow—”
“I don’t think so—”
“—at the town council meeting,” he finished without missing a beat.
“Oh, right.” How could she have forgotten?
She couldn’t think around him. And obviously couldn’t convince him of anything.
She’d better have her head on straight tomorrow night. She and Kayla had so many dreams for the kids of Flagman’s Folly wrapped up in the proposal they planned to present.
She could only hope that, unlike Ben, the rest of the council would listen to reason.
Chapter Thirteen
“We believe Flagman’s Folly should provide a common area for children to play in, such as the one we propose.”
Dana stood at the small podium reserved for anyone who wanted speak at a town council meeting. She tried to put her conviction into her words as she addressed the men and women seated at the long conference table at the front of the room. Behind them loomed Judge Baylor’s massive wooden bench, the focal point of the courtroom adding solemnity to the occasion.
She swallowed hard and continued, “We also believe the children would benefit greatly from this playground. In addition—”
At the sight of several heads nodding even before she had finished her speech, she shot a triumphant glance in Kayla’s direction—and promptly came to a halt when she saw the look on her friend’s face. Something was wrong.
They had arrived late to the meeting. At the first break, she and Kayla had squeezed into the only seats left available, on the end of the front row beside Tess and Caleb Cantrell.
Kayla and Tess both sat staring at her in dismay. From the row behind them, Ellamae whispered into their ears.
“Dana?” Ben asked. “Are you with us?”
Quickly she turned her attention back to the council. Ben was the chairman, but so far she had managed to meet everyone’s gaze but his. “Yes,” she replied, still not looking at him. “As I started to say, in addition, based on the facts we’ve outlined, we propose the council allocate the lot northwest of the elementary school for the playground.”
Now the whispers came from all around the courtroom.
Now a few of the council members looked dismayed, too. Not one of them would look her way—except Ben. She refused to meet his gaze.
“Excuse me.” Ellamae rose from her seat and hurried to stand beside Dana at the podium. “Since Dana and Kayla missed the earlier proceedings tonight—”
“They had car trouble, Ellamae. They explained that.” Council member Joe Harley, also owner of the general store on Signal Street, smiled at Dana.
She winced. The new battery had done its job, but something else inside her van had quit on their way to Town Hall. They’d had to push the van to the curb with some help from a couple of teenagers and then hurry on foot the rest of the way.
“I know the details,” Ellamae said with exaggerated patience. “I was here helping to present the other proposal on tonight’s agenda. Remember?”
As the town clerk, Ellamae felt as comfortable speaking her mind in this courtroom as she did anywhere else in town. It didn’t help that she’d known Dana and Joe since they were born.
She turned to Dana. “Tess doesn’t want to break this news to you, and you couldn’t have been aware of it, of course, seeing as you weren’t here—” she glanced at Joe “—due to your aforementioned trouble with your vehicle. But we already presented our proposal for the memorial for Paul.”
Dana nodded stiffly. “I assumed that’s what you meant.”
“And the monument’s going on that very plot of land near the school.”
Dana’s heart sank. She turned to the front of the room. “But that location’s the only property available that—”
Ben held up his hand, cutting her off, and now she had no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked as determined as he had the day before. And yes, just as sexy.
He also looked annoyed.
“Hold on a minute,” he said. But his annoyance didn’t seem to be directed toward her. He had turned his attention to Ellamae. “Your proposal—your very worthwhile proposal—was presented. But the council hasn’t voted on it yet.”
“What does that matter? Ben Sawyer, you know darn well it will be approved.”
“Not tonight, it won’t. We’ll table discussion on both proposals until the next meeting.”
“Thinks he’s the judge here,” she muttered, low enough that only Dana overheard.
“Excuse me?” Ben said.
She grinned. “You’re in charge here.”
“Right. Then, as we’ve come to the last item on our agenda, I’ll call this meeting adjourned.”
His eyes narrowed, and the look of intense irritation on his face made Dana’s pulse skip a beat. This time it wasn’t directed at Ellamae, but at her.
She hurried to follow the folks streaming through the double doors. Outside, Caleb moved ahead through the crowd, but Kayla and Tess stopped off to one side of the doorway to wait for her.
As soon as she reached them, Tess said, “If I’d had any idea we had chosen the same site for both proposals, I would have tried to suggest some other location to our committee.”
“It’s just an unlucky coincidence,” Kayla said.
But the site is perfect for the playground. Dana couldn’t say that. Obviously, Tess felt terrible. “You would have had a hard time trying to sway Ellamae if she had her heart set on it, anyhow.”
“She did,” Tess said.
One of the people exiting the hall came to a stop by Dana’s side. The scent of spice told her who it was.
“Hey, folks,” Ben said. “Dana, got a minute?”
She eased a step away. “No, actually. I can’t stop to chat. I promised Anne I’d come right home after the meeting.”
“Then I’ll give you a ride,” he said, “seeing as you don’t have a vehicle. No argument.” He smiled. “It’s on my way.”
“Great,” Tess said. “We’re taking Kayla home—and we’ve got to run before we hit a traffic jam. I’ll see you at the office in the morning, Dana. Night, Ben.”
The two women hurried off.
She sighed. “Thanks for the offer, but it
’s only a couple of blocks. And please don’t say anything about walking alone at night. Flagman’s Folly is the safest place in the state.” She watched Tess and Kayla cross the street and added under her breath, “We don’t have traffic jams here, either.”
“With only one traffic light on Signal Street, how could we? But that reminds me. What about your van?”
“I’ll call the garage when I get home.”
“Then the sooner you get there the better, before Ron closes up shop for the night.”
“Not necessarily,” she said sweetly. “You know everyone in town has his home phone number.”
Ellamae and Roselynn emerged from the building.
“Dana!” Tess’s mother exclaimed. “You’re still here? Why, I wonder how come Tess and Caleb didn’t take you home. Ellamae’s got her car. Can we give you a lift?”
“All taken care of, ladies,” Ben said. “Thanks, anyway.”
“That’s our Ben,” Ellamae said, nodding.
Before Dana could say anything, both women beamed at him, then moved down the steps. As soon as they had gone out of earshot, she hissed, “I could have accepted and saved you the trouble.”
“No trouble. I’ve got to pick up some tools I left at your place, anyway.”
She exhaled heavily. “Ben Sawyer, remind me. Did you ever in your life lose an argument?”
He laughed. “No. And I don’t aim to start.”
A noisy group spilled out onto the porch, jostling her. She and Ben stepped aside.
Now that he wasn’t glaring at her with irritation, as he had inside the courtroom, she noticed how the streetlamp picked up the warm tone of his brown eyes. How it highlighted the darkness and fullness of his dark lashes. Women would pay a fortune for mascara that could give them lashes like that.
In the lower lighting, his face seemed different, too. Harder. More rugged. Even more interesting with the play of shadows carving his cheeks.
She wanted to touch him. Again. Just a gentle graze of his jaw, the way his hand had accidentally brushed her breast. At those thoughts, at that memory, at the sudden darkening of his eyes, as if he might be recalling that moment, too, she started to shake inside.
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough, “let’s get you home.”
* * *
BEN MADE THE SHORT, almost-silent trip back to Dana’s house in record time. If she hadn’t had to get home to tuck the kids in and call Ron at the garage, he might’ve pulled over to talk. As it was, he bit his tongue and focused on the road. He’d get his turn. He’d make sure of that. He wasn’t going home until he’d found out the truth about that look he’d seen in her eyes just a short while ago.
A look that had finally given him hope.
When she opened the front door and went upstairs, he waited a second, then moseyed over to take a seat on the couch. Better just to wait until her sitter left. Then they wouldn’t have anything or anyone to distract them.
As she and Anne came down the stairs, she took one look at him and narrowed her eyes. She’d probably expected him to leave after he’d gotten his tools...the ones he hadn’t actually left behind.
Anne said good-night, and the two of them went outside.
When Dana finally came back in and closed the door, he sat waiting. Instead of crossing to the living room, she moved to peer through the long window beside the front door.
“Something interesting out there?” he asked.
“I’m just seeing that Anne and Billy get to his car.”
“Why? Not twenty minutes ago, you told me this is the safest town in the state.”
“I’d just like to keep an eye on them,” she said without turning. “They are still only kids.”
He walked over to her. “Is that why? Or are you putting off talking to me, the way you did in the truck on the way home?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Gently he took her by the arm and turned her to face him. “Is it? Or are you afraid?”
“Afraid? Of you?”
He might’ve taken offense at her scathing tone, except her laugh sounded forced. She didn’t plan to make this easy for him. Maybe it wasn’t easy on her, either. But he had to know if he’d really understood what he’d seen in her eyes.
“Now,” he said softly, “who’s talking trash? You’ll never have anything to fear from me, and we both know that. You’re afraid of what you were thinking outside Town Hall.”
She shook her head. “Ben, I hate to tell you this. You can’t read minds.”
“I can read eyes, though. And faces. Especially yours, since I’ve known you so long. Take right now. I’m reading annoyance, clear as anything.”
She groaned. “Okay, I’ll grant you that. At the moment, anyone in the world could see it.” She sighed heavily. “You know, we seem to do this all the time. We’re as bad as Lissa and P.J., bickering like a couple of kids.”
“That’s just what I’m getting at. We’re adults, not kids.” He slid his hand from her arm to her shoulder. “We can stop bickering all on our own.”
She shook her head again, as if in pity. But beneath his palm, she trembled. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“You know better. And you’ve known me just as long as I’ve known you.” He held his breath, contemplating what he would do next. The action could ruin that friendship forever. But no matter what she said, no matter the look on her face the other night when they’d stood this close, he knew what he’d seen in her eyes just a while ago. He reached up and touched her cheek. “I’ll bet my ranch you can read me right now, too.”
“The question is,” she said, her voice shaking, “why would I want to?”
He laughed softly. “I can think of a few reasons.” He bent his head and touched her mouth briefly with his. So briefly that if he’d closed his eyes first, he might have missed it.
Her eyes went wild, like those of a colt he was trying to break, and again, like a colt, she reared. Her back hit the door behind her with a thud.
“No,” she said, crossing her arms. “We can’t do this. Didn’t those run-ins with Clarice tell you that?” She sighed. “I’m sorry. There have been a lot of mixed messages and crossed signals being sent around here lately. But that won’t happen again. I promise you.”
Those last words chilled him as effectively as a plunge into Sidewinder Creek in midwinter. Made him see sense just as effectively. He took a step back and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. It won’t happen again.”
“We are friends. But that’s all. Right?”
He heard the desperation in her voice, as if nothing in the world meant more to her than having him agree.
He could almost see them again at their kindergarten desks. Him. Dana. And Paul.
“Right.” He took a long, deep breath and let it out. “I’m your friend. And honorary uncle to your kids. Then, of course, there’s our business relationship. I own the house. You pay the rent. And we can’t forget our other relationship.”
She hesitated. “What other relationship?”
“I’m on the council, and I hold the deciding vote. You presented a proposal. Right?” he pressed, just as she had done a moment ago.
“Right.” She shook her head ruefully. “That was a real coincidence, two proposals involving the same property. But the site’s perfect for—”
He held up his hand, just as he had in the courtroom. “You had plenty of chances to talk to me before tonight. You didn’t want my help. No sense trying to convince me now.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone. No matter how much his feelings for her tied his thoughts up in knots, his mind stayed clear on one thing.
She refused to honor Paul.
“You could be right about the site for the playground. But why isn’t it an equally good place for the tribute to your husband?” He
’d kept his voice low, yet she flinched as if he’d shouted the question at her. “And why is it, all along, you haven’t supported the idea of that memorial?”
“That’s my business.” Her eyes flashed. “And it’s got nothing to do with any of our relationships.” She stepped aside. “Excuse me. I have to call about my van. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding your way out, since you’re a foot away from the door.”
She moved past him and hurried to the stairs, leaving him standing there looking after her. Leaving him angry. Sick. And disgusted with himself.
The way he had felt for days now.
He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t accept the idea of the monument. Why she still refused to honor Paul. But hadn’t he done the same—no, hadn’t he done much worse—by lusting after his best friend’s widow?
No matter how much he wanted Dana, even with the ghost of his best friend standing between them, he couldn’t disrespect her by going against her wishes. Not even for the pleasure of a one-night stand.
Not that she’d give him that now.
And if she ever did, he’d have his one night in paradise, that’s all. Because the next morning, she’d regret it, and that would be the end. Of everything.
She’d never take him on as a long-term lover. She might reject him even as a friend. He couldn’t run that risk.
He needed her.
Chapter Fourteen
Ben fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug, debating whether he should ask Dori for another fill-up.
Monday night, after the town council meeting and their talk at her house, he’d let Dana kick him out. He’d gone slinking off like a mutt with its tail between its legs—because he hadn’t known what to say. A hell of a thing to admit, for a man who almost always had the last word.
He’d stayed away from her place yesterday. Tough to do, since he missed seeing the kids. But he fought against stopping by. He didn’t want to run into her. Yet.
In the long run, the distance had done him good because he’d had time to figure things out. In all these months since Paul had died, he’d done his best to get close to her, trying to help her. Trying to make her his.
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