“Annabelle Lecter?” Ben reads the caller ID.
“The woman eats male hearts. It’s fitting.” I hit “ignore” and tuck the phone back in my pocket. With my ear against Ben’s chest, his loud boom of laughter is all the louder. I can’t help but wonder what Annabelle would want. I left Jacksonville nine months ago and she hasn’t made any effort to reach out to me before today. Not normal mother behavior. Not surprising Annabelle behavior.
“I take it you and her aren’t best friends?” Ben asks lightly, his attempts at getting into my pants effectively stalled.
“I haven’t talked to her since I moved to Miami and Jack made me call her to let her know.”
“That’s been, what . . .”
“It’ll be a year in January.”
He snorts. “How is that even possible? I talk to Mama every single day.”
“That’s because you have June Cleaver for a mom and I have Joan Crawford.” There can be no doubt where I inherited my temper. More than one dish has been thrown across a room with Annabelle’s anger. That’s a side she guards well, though, not wanting the outside world to know she’s anything but the refined socialite she portrays.
“Did you have a big fight?”
I sigh. “My entire life feels like one big fight with her. She wanted a debutante daughter and she got . . .” I gesture at myself.
“A daughter with piercings and sometimes purple hair who rides a motorcycle and can describe the back of a cop car in detail,” he finishes for me.
“Annabelle wears Gucci and eats beef tartare. She goes to the opera and collects ice wine.”
He nods slowly as if in understanding. “You must have been one hell of a rebellious teenager.”
“We’ve been at odds long before my teenage years. Annabelle was never cut out to be a mother. All she cares about are appearances, money, and Annabelle.” I close my eyes and sigh, wanting to get off the topic. “I feel so relaxed out here. This place is like a cross between Forrest Gump and Anne of Green Gables.”
“I don’t remember Tom Hanks picking oranges.”
“No, I mean . . . just that house and the big ol’ trees and the country air . . . Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Ben’s hand starts fiddling with my hair again. “Yeah. Right now it is. Soon, the orders start rolling through and then it gets busy. We get orders from all over the country. Since I had the website and online system updated a few years back, it’s been busy.” He sighs. “Between inspecting and sampling and picking . . . hell, even just going around to check the trees for disease or problems, it’s getting to be too much. Especially for a fifty-one-year-old lady who’s had a heart attack to manage on her own. I wish she’d just sell and divorce his pathetic ass.”
“She won’t?”
“No. This place is her life. She’d be buried here if it were allowed. And she’s hung up on a bunch of words she said in church one day, so she lets him stay.”
“I think those are called vows, Ben,” I remind him dryly, rolling my head until my chin is resting on his chest so I can see his face.
“Call them what you want. They’re a bunch of words that trap people into thinking they have to be miserable for the rest of their lives.”
Not everyone. “So I take it you won’t be saying ‘I do’ anytime soon?” I ask lightly.
He closes his eyes again, a crooked smirk dimpling one cheek. “What do you think?”
“Have you even had a girlfriend, Ben?” Has he ever held someone in his arms all night, laughing and sharing his deepest secrets? Has he ever let someone cry on his shoulder or held her tight when life dealt him a shitty hand? Trusted her with everything, wanted to be someone she could trust? Has he ever watched the clock, waiting until he could see her again?
“Once, for two weeks, in high school.”
No, probably not. “So you’ve really made an effort,” I tease.
“Commitment just isn’t for me.” He says it so simply. Like, “Broccoli isn’t for me.”
“That’s too bad, Ben. I think some foolish woman out there could maybe make you a blissful idiot one day.”
He opens one eye to look down on me for a long moment, pondering something. “Yeah, but what if she’s evil, like you? I wouldn’t want to risk pissing her off and getting shot in the ass.” He pinches my side as he says that, as if letting me know that he’s only teasing.
“Funny.” I know today’s paintball incident isn’t going to die quietly with Ben but right now, I don’t want to be reminded about the few seconds before I opened fire, when I could hear them together, when I knew that Jared was inside her.
The dull ache in my chest is coming back. I need an effective diversion. “Speaking of evil . . .” I pull the key that I swiped from the dune buggy out of my pocket and wave it above his face. “It’s going to be a long walk back for you when I leave you stranded out here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me . . .” Laughing as he tries to grab it from me, I quickly shove it back into my pocket. “Really? Have you not figured me out yet?” As if to prove a point, Ben has me on my back in the truck bed, both of my arms easily pinned above my head by one of his in seconds. “Oh, wait. Just in case . . .” He shifts his body, forcing my thighs around his hips. “Wouldn’t want you injuring the goods for a second time today. Not before you get full use of them.”
“I would never stoop to that level,” I exclaim with mock insult.
“Really?” His blond brow arches severely.
I offer a sweet smile. Truthfully, I was just getting my knee ready.
Feeling confident—I know because he’s staring down at me with a grin that could charm the pants off half the women in the office, married or not—he reaches down with his free hand. I feel a tug as his fingers dig into my pocket and begin rooting around. I could try to buck him off me but, well, given my position, I honestly think he’s hoping for that. And so I remain still as he takes his time, until he’s got the old silver thing dangling off one finger in front of me.
“You can get off of me any time now, you know,” I remind him.
With a sigh, he shifts his weight slightly as his free arm comes up to slide beneath my head, providing a cushion against the hard metal. “I could,” he agrees, those brilliant blue eyes searching my eyes, my nose, my mouth, as if evaluating me.
And then he leans down and kisses me. No hesitation at all, as if there’s no way I couldn’t possibly want Ben Morris’s tongue in my mouth, sliding its way around mine in a smooth, practiced dance. The problem is that in this moment, out here in the middle of nowhere, with reality so far away and the tranquility of the grove, I do want it. Now I can see why Ben was so eager to give me a “tour” rather than head back to work.
He pulls away to peer down at me with a knowing smile.
“You do realize that normal friends and work colleagues don’t do this sort of thing, right?”
“I like to bend the rules.” He releases my wrists, freeing his to snake up the front of my shirt, lifting the material as he goes. The guy clearly has a goal in mind because his fingers have unfastened my bra without any stalling and pushed it away within seconds. “Oh, thank God,” he says through a groan, his head dipping down to grasp onto the ring with his mouth.
As I reach up under that soft T-shirt of his to feel the tightness in his back, as I feel Ben’s tongue coil around the ring and tickle me, I echo his words in my head. Yes, thank God.
He lifts his body ever so slightly, his hand reaching down to undo the top button and zipper of my jeans with a casual flick. “I never did take full inventory of your piercings.”
When I make no indications of an answer, that wide grin takes over his face and I know what he’s planning even before I feel the first tug on my jeans. They’re too tight for him to squeeze a hand in. He wastes no time sliding off the tailgate to stand in front of me with intent written all over his face. Reaching down, he gets a good hold of my jeans and begins shimmying them down.
And that’s when the sudden rumble of an engine and the squeak of brakes sounds.
“Who is it?” I ask as Ben’s attention whips to his left. I can’t ignore the disappointment flooding me, a dull ache in my lower belly forming.
His head tips back as he looks up to the sky. “Who do you think?” With a deep groan, his eyes rake over my exposed chest. He bends down for one last chaste kiss on my lips and then steps away, leaving me to button my pants and affix my bra and shirt just as a red pickup truck with a thick white stripe around the center pulls up.
Wilma hops out of the high cab quite easily for someone her age. “Benjamin James Morris, did you bring this young lady out here in the hot sun without anything to drink?”
Scratching the back of his head lazily, he mutters, “I guess I did. Sorry.”
I purse my lips tightly. Considering what Ben brought me out here in the hot sun to do, I think a cold drink was definitely not on his mind.
“It’s like I didn’t raise you at all, sometimes.” Coming around the other side, she opens the passenger door and pulls a cooler off the bench. Ben’s at her side in seconds, relieving her of the weight. “Mama, you know you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things.”
“Oh, hush. I’m not an invalid. One tiny heart attack isn’t going to kill me.” Ben’s stern glare of disapproval only makes her smile wider at him. I can see where he got his impish charm from. But I can also feel the weight of his fear at Wilma’s words. In just one afternoon, I can see how this woman might leave a sizeable hole in many people’s lives when she’s gone.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, Reese, so there’s some water, sweet tea, and Coke in there. I also packed a light snack. Some scones and homemade marmalade. Ben’s favorite.”
“Of course it is,” I tease, reaching up to pinch Ben’s cheek playfully as he sets the cooler down on the tailgate. “Thank you so much.”
“How’d you know where to find us?” Ben asks as he fishes through the selection.
A knowing smirk curls Wilma’s lips. “Because this is your favorite spot in the grove. Did you honestly think I didn’t know it was you and Jake leaving beer cans out here?” She looks at me and shakes her head. “You know, Ben and his brother would sneak out here at night—thinking I had no idea—and then try to convince me that the grove workers were drinking on the job. Oh, but I wasn’t ever allowed to confront or fire them without better evidence. My little future football-player-slash-lawyer was so worried about potential lawsuits for doing that.”
Ben has the decency to look a little sheepish as he sucks back a gulp of water. “So, is that why you came out here, Mama?”
She gives him a pointed look but then says, “I really need you to take a look at that tractor before you go.”
“Sure,” he offers, pulling his phone out to check the time, and heaves a sigh. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Well, maybe you should just stay for dinner.” I hear the hopefulness in her voice. She really likes having her son here. I’m betting she’d love to have her other children here, too.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Mama. But I’m just learning the ropes at work. I’ve already lost a lot of time today.”
By the tone of his voice and his sincere look, I can tell he’s disappointed. I guess I didn’t really help with that, given the change in plans I forced this morning, all in the name of revenge. “We’d love to stay,” I interrupt, elbowing Ben gently in the ribs. “I’m already stuck with you all week. I guess they’ll be long days.”
He peers down at me for a moment, an unreadable look on his face.
And then he winks.