“Hey.” He grabbed her free arm, stopping her. “You need to knock off the attitude. I didn’t have to get out of the warm truck to help you, you know.”
“You were a ton of help,” she said sarcastically. “I don’t even have pants that stay up now.”
Ben couldn’t believe this. “You asked for the scissors.”
“Because there was no other choice.” Tara stomped her foot childishly. “I haven’t had a choice about anything for three days. I’m sick of this. I need my wallet back, my clothes . . . my life.”
“You can have it.” Ben let go of her arm and walked past her. “I’ll be happy to drop you off at the nearest gas station. You can get yourself to wherever it is you want to go. Or maybe your fairy godmother will come rescue you, since you’re such a spoiled princess.”
“What did you say?” Tara struggled to keep up. She reached out, grabbing his arm just as she lost her footing and started sliding backward down the hill.
Ben caught her. “I said you’re spoiled. In fact, your name ought to be Tiara instead of Tara. You’re a pampered . . . privileged . . . brat.”
She gasped and pushed him away. “Well, Benji, at least I’m not named after a dog.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. He was partial to his name. Once, around the time he was getting adopted, he’d wanted to change it along with his new last name, but that was before his adoptive mom had taken the time to explain it to him. He loved her for that, and he loved his name because of it. “I’m not named after a dog. I’m named after a king. King Benjamin was one of the finest men who ever lived.”
He turned and walked off, thinking that he wasn’t acting so much like his namesake at the moment. What was it about this woman that brought out the absolute worst in him?
He expected to hear her behind him and braced himself for another volley of insults or another physical assault. But neither came. When he reached the road, he reluctantly turned around again and saw her standing in the same spot. Literally frozen? Nah. It’d be too good to be true.
Gritting his teeth, he retraced his steps until he stood in front of her. Her nose and cheeks were red with cold, and her lips appeared to be turning blue. “Come on. You’re freezing.”
“What do you care?” she asked.
He was the one who felt like swearing as he noticed her eyes starting to well up again. “I said I’d leave you at a gas station. Not in the middle of nowhere—without even a decent pair of pants.” He suddenly found it hard not to laugh. She looked so forlorn, standing there holding up her jeans and wearing Minnie Mouse plastered across her brow. The flowers were lying on their sides now, pressed down by the moisture from the lightly falling snow.
Tara shivered again, sending a little tremor from her head to her toes. Ben smiled. He couldn’t help it. His anger of a moment before melted in the face of such a tragic figure. He realized his moods were becoming as erratic as hers and hated to think what would happen to him if they spent much more time together.
“Come on,” he said again. He reached out, touching her shoulder, pulling her toward him.
“I’m cold,” she said. “I just want this to be over. I want to go home.”
“I know, Princess. You gotta move first, though.”
She did, stepping closer until they were less than a foot apart.
Ben reached down, tilting her chin up, so he could see her eyes. They were swimming with tears and full of hurt.
“Hey, I’m sorry—okay? I was outta line. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
She shook her head. “They’re true.”
Ben wasn’t sure what to say to that. What he’d said to her was true. She was spoiled and stuck up and . . . shivering and vulnerable, and very, very pretty with her head full of tousled curls and her hazel eyes shining up at him.
His mother had taught him that sometimes actions were better than words. King Benjamin had been a man of action too. He’d worked alongside his people instead of just giving them lip service. Lip service. The fleeting thought was enough to prompt him to a sudden change of course. If you can’t beat her . . .
Ben took Tara’s rosy cheeks in his hands and bent down, brushing his warm lips over her chilled ones.
. . . kiss her. He closed his eyes, savoring for the brief moment the softness of her skin, the touch of her lips against his, the long-forgotten feeling of having a woman in his arms.
He was just about to pull away when her hand came around his neck, drawing him to her. For a split second he stiffened, surprised that she was accepting his offer, that she hadn’t pushed him away.
Instead she clung to him, moving her lips over his with a desire he’d have never guessed was there. Vaguely aware of his own matching desires, Ben responded, kissing her tenderly, a sort of apology for all the mean things he’d said and done since he met her. He couldn’t remember why he’d been angry, couldn’t imagine being upset with the warm, giving woman in his arms. Her lips were sweet, her fingers caressing, as they wove their way through his hair.
Breathless, he finally pulled away but kept her tucked tight in his embrace. He kissed her forehead then pressed her face against his chest, wondering if she could feel the thundering of his heart.
The question What just happened? hovered below the surface, and he knew he would—they would—have to deal with it in a minute. But for now he wanted to hold her, to enjoy this moment of peace when all was in accord between them.
Snowflakes fell, melting in her hair and on his nose, and still they didn’t move. Then the sudden sound of car engines from the road above ended the spellbinding moment.
“The truck,” Ben said. He grabbed her hand and started up the embankment. She climbed with him to the top then pulled away.
He looked back, struck by how beautiful she was, how much he wanted to kiss her again. But she wasn’t smiling at him, didn’t look happy at all.
“Thank you for everything, Ben,” Tara said. “But I think it’s best if I ride with Ellen now.”
Fifteen
Ellen glanced at Tara, hands held out in front of the heater, shivering in the passenger seat. “My brother must have really turned on the charm to make you choose the zoo van over him.”
Tara felt grateful Ellen had refrained from commenting on her cut-down-the-front pants. “The truck seat was uncomfortable,” Tara said quietly. It was a lousy excuse though at least not a complete lie. The plastic seat had felt hard and springy, but everything in the cab of that truck would have been uncomfortable after the kiss she and Ben had shared. She’d either have bawled and clung to him. Wow. Being in his arms felt so good. Or spilled more of her soul and begged him to kiss her again. Who’d have guessed that Farmer Ben . . . Her lips were still tingling—or were they just defrosting after being cold for so long?
“Mmm-hmm,” said Ellen, glancing over at Tara, not sounding the least convinced of her excuse. Fortunately, her attention was quickly diverted to the drama in the backseat.
Tara turned around to see if she might help and thought the better of it. Chloe was straining against the straps of her car seat and screaming. Has she stopped since this morning? And now Cadie was yelling too, her head bent at an odd angle as her sister pulled her hair.
“Girls,” Ellen snapped, sounding rather near the end of her own rope.
Feeling bad for her, Tara climbed in back. One hand held up her pants while the other pried Chloe’s fingers from Cadie’s head. When she’d separated the girls, she handed Cadie a tissue from a box on the floor. When Cadie just held it in her hand, Tara helped her wipe the tears and even the snot from her face. Disgusting.
Chloe’s screaming ceased for a second as she watched them, but Tara could tell she was just catching her breath to start up again. Seized with sudden inspiration, she handed the toddler the tissue box, showing her how to pull the tissues out, hold one up to her nose, and make a pretend sneezing sound. To Tara’s great surprise, the little girl laughed. Tara repeated the action, and Chloe laughed louder—a sound much more pleasant than
her previous screams.
Ellen looked in her rearview mirror. “You’re a genius.”
Facing away from her, Tara shook her head but privately smiled at the compliment. “We’ll see if you say that when there are—” She glanced at the supersized box of tissues “—one hundred and fifty pieces of Kleenex on the floor of your van.”
“It’ll be worth it. Besides, I’ll get Ben to clean it up.”
Tara turned around and made her way to the front passenger seat. “He probably would if you asked him—good guy that he is.”
Ellen sent her a funny, eyebrows-raised, questioning kind of look. “Oh, he’ll do it but not because he’s particularly good. He’ll just be glad for an excuse to stay out of the house, away from Dallin.”
Dallin. How could I forget? On the other hand, I’m surprised I even remember my name after that kiss. “So what is it between those two?” Tara asked casually. It wasn’t like she was prying into big family secrets when Ben had promised to tell her anyway.
“Too much is between them, I’m afraid,” Ellen said, her voice heavy with regret. “Too many memories. Too much distrust. Too much hurt.”
“Aren’t you the least bit worried about having them together, then?” Tara was dying for Ellen to elaborate on the memories, trust, and hurt but knew she had to play her cards well here. Ellen was female, after all, and likely knew a thing or two about the art of conversation. She also didn’t seem the type to spread gossip or be disloyal to the two most important men in her life.
“I am worried,” Ellen said, her hands, tense with the reminder, tightening on the steering wheel. “But I’m also hopeful, you know. It’s Christmas. Miracles happen. There’s peace on earth, goodwill toward men.”
Tara snorted. “If you believe in all that.”
“I do.” Ellen looked over, her eyes serious. “I believe in it very much, and not just at Christmastime.”
Instead of responding, Tara looked out the window. Is there no one I can ride with who won’t make me feel weird about who I am and what I believe? Peace, goodwill . . . joy. The memory of Ben’s lips on hers filled her mind. Okay, so that might have qualified as joy.
“So what are your plans to bring about this peace and goodwill between the two of them?”
“Lots of prayer?” Ellen shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t really planned anything, other than I know Dallin is going to take Ben aside and apologize again . . .”
For . . . ? Tara silently prompted.
“. . . and McKenzie is going to be there.”
Tara sent Ellen her best blank look.
“She’s Dallin’s sister and Ben’s ex-fiancée,” Ellen said without missing a beat. “They were engaged back when Dallin and I were dating and engaged. It was supposed to be a double wedding.”
Tara turned slightly in her seat, trying not to appear overeager. This was getting good. “But it wasn’t.” She stated the obvious, hoping the tactic would keep Ellen going.
“No.” Ellen shook her head. “And in a way, it was Dallin’s fault. Though at the time he was only trying to protect his sister.” She let out a sigh filled with regret. “Even I had my doubts about Benji for a little while there.”
“Doubts about what?” Tara asked.
Ellen’s grip on the wheel tightened again, and she waited a moment before answering.
“His sanity.”
* * *
They made their last bathroom stop about an hour outside Denver. This time Tara didn’t say a word about the freezing seat, lack of toilet paper, or smelly condition of the facility. A toilet was a toilet, and holding her nose beat holding her pants any day of the week.
After the stop, she summoned her courage and asked Ben if she could ride with him again.
“Sure,” he said and walked around the truck without so much as offering her a hand or opening her door as he’d done before. Though he had produced a piece of rope for her to tie her pants up with.
“Boy Scout,” Tara grumbled with a hint of affection in her voice. It hadn’t been her plan to ride with him again—not after that kiss that sent her head spinning and her heart racing. But by the time she’d heard the whole Dallin-Ben-McKenzie story, she had changed her mind. Ben had no idea he was headed for a weekend that included not only his ex–best friend, but his former and recently divorced fiancée. Talk about the makings for a nightmare family get-together. This was the kind of stuff screenwriters in Hollywood made movies about.
Tara knew she couldn’t send him into that—to face the woman who had rejected him literally days before their wedding—without letting him know how she felt about their kiss. It was going to mean humbling herself big time, but she’d have to do it anyway. It was the only decent thing to do. Not to mention honest, her conscience added.
Remembering that earlier she’d told Ben she wanted to know some dirt about him, she felt very, very bad.
She climbed into the truck and buckled up. On his side of the cab, Ben did the same. The space between them remained vacant, as the kids had all chosen watching cartoons in the van over riding with their uncle.
Ben surprised her by asking, “You have a nice visit with Ellen?”
“In between the kids screaming, you mean?”
“Yeah.” One side of his mouth twitched. “Chloe still going, then?”
“Actually, no,” Tara admitted. “I taught her how to blow her nose, and she quieted right down. Ellen says it’s worth the seventy-five pieces of tissue Chloe shredded in the backseat.”
“Who knew you’d be so good with kids?” His tone was teasing.
It was the perfect lead-in for what she wanted to tell him. Who knew you’d be so good at kissing? Her courage faltered. “Not me.”
Ben didn’t say anything else, and the conversation effectively died when she couldn’t think of a way to say what she wanted. The thing was, complimenting him went against every female instinct. Never ever was a woman supposed to tell a guy—after their first kiss, and after he’d just hurled insults at her—that he’d made her spine tingle, sent her head reeling, and made her feel something she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before. Stuff like that didn’t happen, anyway. She knew better. She’d kissed a whole lot of men, and a kiss wasn’t really a big deal. Even the sweet, gentle kind Ben had given her.
It was only a kiss. Then why is my heart racing just thinking about it?
She concentrated on the lights of the approaching city, knowing she ought to be worrying about how she’d pay for things in Boulder and how she’d get home from there. She’d have to call the airline again. I’ll have to say good-bye to Ben.
He spoke up suddenly. “I’m sorry about earlier—kissing you, I mean.” He sent an apologetic glance her way. “And the things I said—I was way out of line.”
Leave it to Farmer Boy to apologize.
“Well, I’m not sorry,” Tara said. Ben’s eyes narrowed in irritation. Too late she realized her blunder. “About the kiss, that is,” she added hastily. “I am sorry I said you were named after a dog. But all things considered, that wouldn’t be too bad. Benji was a sweet dog, kind of like you.”
Ben shot her a look of disgust and turned away. “I’m not sure if I’ve just been complimented or insulted even worse.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Tara felt like beating her head against the dash. This is ridiculous. It had been a very long time since she’d felt flustered in front of a man. These days she was always in control. She said what she felt and didn’t think another thing about it. Because that usually involves telling a complete jerk of a guy off. Expressing a sincere compliment was turning out to be more difficult—especially when that meant putting herself out there for . . . rejection, humiliation, complete mortification. All things Ben must have felt and will likely face again this weekend.
After thinking about it that way, thinking of Ben before she thought of herself, she suddenly knew exactly what to tell him.
She turned to him, reaching out to touch his sleeve. “Ben, the kiss
you gave me was the nicest one I’ve ever had . . . and I’ve had a few,” she added, a sheepish look on her face.
“I imagine you have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed.
“That you’re a very beautiful woman. That’s all.” Ben looked at her, and they both burst out laughing. “It was a lot easier to argue with you, you know.”
“I know.” The laughter left her eyes. Why is that? It was a troubling question. Why can’t I get along with a nice guy like Ben? Why’d it take me so long to realize he is nice?
“I’m sorry about your pants, DI, the whole thing.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Tara waved her hand in the air. “It’ll make for a great story when I’m back home.”
“Just what I always wanted—to be watercooler talk outside an LA boardroom.” He grinned.
“If it’ll make you feel better, you can tell the pigs all about me.”
“You can bet I will.” Their eyes locked for the briefest second, sending Tara’s heart rate skyrocketing again.
What will you tell them? she wanted to ask but was saved from making a further fool of herself by Ben’s ringing cell phone. It was Ellen, reminding him that their exit was coming up.
Tara withdrew to her side of the truck and tried to focus on where she’d go from here. To Boulder, obviously. This thing with Ben . . . isn’t a thing.
Ben too seemed somber after the phone call and withdrew into himself.
Mentally preparing to see Dallin? Tara wondered and felt for him again, knowing what—and who—was waiting.
Fifteen minutes later, they entered an upscale neighborhood, even by Tara’s standards. The gated community boasted enormous homes, tree-lined streets, and lavish, over-the-top Christmas light displays. From the corner of her eye, Tara studied Ben, wondering what he was thinking. Was he comparing his humble farm to his friend’s obvious success?
They made a right-hand turn, and Ben slowed the truck, leaning forward to scan the addresses. Three homes down, he turned into the driveway and came to a stop.
“Well, this is it.”
My Lucky Stars Page 10