Once in a Lifetime
Page 17
Ben smiled.
“You what?” Mr. Wilford asked.
“I ruined your prize pumpkin all those years ago, remember? And how did you get my number?”
“Of course I remember what you did. You cost me a thousand bucks and ruined the best pumpkin I ever grew. And this is Lucky Harbor. It was easy to get your number; I called Lucille.”
“I’m going to grow you new pumpkins,” she said.
“Off-season?”
She sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t plan that part so well. But maybe one of them will be a prize pumpkin,” she said. “It’s my way of apologizing.”
“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me now,” he said. “I’m too old to be worried about the watering.”
Well, crap. She hadn’t thought of that, either. “I’ll do it,” she said.
Ben laughed and then choked it off when she glared at him.
“You’re going to water the pumpkins?” Mr. Wilford asked in disbelief. “You, Miss Fancy Pants?”
“Yes,” she said through her teeth. “I am.”
“Pumpkins like to be watered regularly,” he warned.
“Fine. Um, how often is regular—” But he’d hung up. She slid her phone away.
Ben was still grinning.
“Not a word,” she said, Googling “pumpkin patches.” “Unless you know how often to water pumpkins.”
That night, Aubrey closed up the bookstore after a decent business day and smiled as she walked across the scarred hardwood floors. They’d been a surprising find beneath the carpet. The wood was nice and light, and it seemed to open up the store.
Happy, she headed up to her loft. There, she pulled out her notebook and eyed the crossed-off items, including BEN.
She’d improvised there, and she thought maybe she’d actually pulled it off. But now, without Ben’s prying eyes watching her, she added one more item to the bottom of her list.
THE HARD ONE.
Chapter 15
The next morning, Ben went to work on the countertop for the serving area of the Book & Bean.
Aubrey was two weeks away from her grand-opening party.
Though it would be close, the renovations would be done on time. Ben thought of the coil wire in his pocket. He’d hoped to get at least one more day of driving Aubrey around, even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was up to now.
And it wasn’t trouble. In fact, it was the opposite of trouble. She was working at righting her wrongs, and it was tugging at a part of him that didn’t want to be tugged.
He hadn’t planned on feeling anything for her and was now trying to resign himself to the fact that they had more than just some seriously explosive chemistry. He’d told himself that they could get past that by spending some quality na**d time together, but they’d already tried that, and it’d backfired because he’d gotten past exactly nothing. In fact, now all he wanted was more. A lot more.
It was 7:00 a.m. before he heard signs of life from above, and thirty minutes more before the telltale click, click, click of her boots alerted him that she was coming down. And, like Pavlov’s dog, he started to go hard.
He was ridiculous.
“Ben?”
And just like that, the sound of her husky voice finished the job. He wondered what she’d say to a second round of wild monkey sex, right here, right now. If he just stripped her out of her clothes and sat her on the stack of wood he still had to measure and cut, he could then step between her legs. He’d slide his hands beneath her sexy ass, of course, to prevent splinters. Or they could use her couch. Better yet, he could bend her over the stack of boxes of new stock that’d come in, shove up her dress, and take her from behind.
Yeah. That was the ticket.
She came around the corner, and he unbuckled his tool belt, letting it fall to the floor. They were going to do this, and it was going to be good—
“I’ve got company,” Aubrey said. She went to the front door of the store and opened it.
And then one, two, three…eight women came in behind her, one of them his own aunt Dee.
Lucky Harbor’s resident hell-raisers.
Dee smiled and waved at him, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as she passed him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Croaked.
“Aubrey’s invited my book club to meet at her store,” Dee said. She frowned at him. “You sick, honey?”
“No.” Dee’s book club was a weekly event—“club” being a loose word for a bunch of women who got together, drank too much wine, laughed so loud they could break windows, and talked about everything but books. The “club” had been kicked out of the diner, the bar and grill, and the senior center. They’d been talking about having to disband.
He glanced at Aubrey.
“I wanted them to have a place to go,” she said.
“You’re going to need a ‘crazy’ permit,” he said.
Dee smacked him upside the head. “We’re trying something new,” she said. “Meeting in the early mornings. You know, before people get…feisty.”
Ben sent Aubrey a good luck look that she ignored. Instead, she walked her guests through the bookstore and sat them in the chairs and on the couch that he’d just made nefarious plans for.
“So,” she said, looking to the seniors’ ringleader—Lucille, of course. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Lucille said. “We’re so honored that you’d have us, honey.”
Ben shook his head, cleaned up, and left out the back door. Then he stared at Aubrey’s car in the lot.
Which was minus its coil wire.
He wrestled with his conscience and lost. Blowing out a sigh, he popped open the hood and began to put it back.
“Whatcha doing?”
He nearly jumped out of his skin, then gave Luke a long look across the engine compartment.
Luke grinned. “Scared ya. You committing a misdemeanor for any reason in particular?”
“I’m not committing anything. And why are you here?”
“Got a call that a suspicious-looking character was lounging around back here and screwing up cars that belong to pretty blondes.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, I didn’t get a call,” Luke said. “I stopped by Ali’s shop to say hey.”
No, he’d stopped by the shop to get laid. Because Luke had an unmistakable I-just-got-laid look to him. Ben sighed. He’d like to have that look…
“So want to tell me what you’re up to?” Luke asked.
“Hell, no.”
Luke grinned. “That’s okay. I already figured it out.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Sure I did. You kissed Aubrey last week, and now you’re doing something stupid to f**k it all up.”
Ben narrowed his gaze. “Let me guess how you know about the kiss. Facebook?”
“Ali.” Luke shrugged. “You were the one stupid enough to do it up against the wall and visible through the window. Rookie mistake,” he said, and tsked.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ben asked.
“Nope. So. You and Aubrey, huh? You two going to…?”
Well, at least he didn’t know that much. Ben didn’t answer. Instead he made sure the coil wire was back in place and shut the hood. Then he headed toward his truck.
“Hey,” Luke said. “Waiting for the details here.”
“Ask your fiancée.”
Ben did a morning run with Sam, who, unlike some of his nosy-ass friends, did not press him for details on the Aubrey situation.
After their run, Ben headed to Seattle. He found Bob’s Auto Shop, parked, and walked to the first open bay. A linebacker-size guy rolled out from beneath a lifted truck, wearing overalls and no shirt. He didn’t need one; he had tat sleeves down both arms and over his chest. The patch on his overalls read BIG ED. “Can I help you?” the giant asked.
“I’m looking for Dan Ingalls,” Ben said.
Big Ed gave a chin jerk toward the next car over. The guy working on it was built the same as Ed the Linebacker, though he was wearing a shirt. He had tats, too, including a teardrop beneath his eye.
The patch on his overalls read BIG BOB.
Ben was sensing a pattern here. “How you doing?” he asked Big Bob.
Big Bob didn’t smile, just looked at him as he slowly cracked his knuckles.
A real friendly bunch. Terrific. “Looking for Dan Ingalls,” Ben said again.
Big Bob did the same chin jerk Big Ed had done, toward the back of the shop this time. Ben headed back there, very aware that he now had the two guys at his back and most likely yet another one in front of him somewhere. He found a truck, hood up, and indeed there was a guy standing on a step stool, head buried in the engine compartment, torquing something.
“Dan Ingalls?” Ben asked.
Dan didn’t stop what he was doing or even look up. “Who wants to know?”
“A friend of your kids.”
Dan went still, not even pulling his head out of the compartment. “What?”
He didn’t repeat himself. Still keeping track of the big boys, Bob and Ed, at his back, Ben kept his voice low. He wasn’t too worried; he’d been in worse spots—far worse—but there was no reason to be stupid.
Dan straightened. He was easily one-third the size of his two co-workers. No muscles. No tats. What he did have was crazy, wild hair, the exact color of a copper penny, flying around his thin, angular face and stark blue eyes. He was skinny as a toothpick and short enough to barely meet Ben’s shoulder. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Ben McDaniel. I live in Lucky Harbor, where your girls live in a foster home. A shitty foster home,” Ben added harshly. “And I wanted to see why they aren’t with you.”
Dan looked a little shaken. “I don’t have kids.”
Ben arched a brow.
Dan came down off the stepladder and hitched his chin to indicate Ben should follow him out of the garage. They passed the very large Big Ed, and then the equally large Big Bob, both of whom were watching Ben with stony expressions.
Ben ignored them completely.
“Sorry about that,” Dan said when they were outside. “They’re…protective of me.”
“Why? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Dan looked away for a moment, then gained a slight measure of Ben’s respect when he met Ben’s gaze straight on. “I was.”
“And your kids?”
Dan shook his head. “I told you, I don’t have any.”
“Odd, since you have two mini-me’s in Lucky Harbor who are your spitting image.”
Dan gave a sharp exhale and walked away, going about ten feet before pacing back. “I waived my rights so that they could get adopted.”
“Then why are they in a foster home?”
“Because their mom died,” Dan said.
“And you didn’t feel the need to take them?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“I’m not father material.”
“Should have thought about that before you had them,” Ben said.
Again Dan paced. “What do you mean, the foster home is shitty?” he finally asked.
“You don’t know what ‘shitty’ means?”
Dan sank to a concrete planter that had nothing it in but dirt and cigarette butts. He shoved his fingers through his hair and studied his knees. “I didn’t want this life for them.”
“Well, what the hell did you think would happen when their mom died and you didn’t step up?”
“I—I don’t know. I…I was in jail for a while.”
“Yeah, your daughters told me.”
He looked sick. “They know?”
“I’m not sure what they know, but they said you’re up for, and I quote, ‘the big one.’”
“Jesus.” Dan rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth. “They’re five.”
“They’re growing up fast.”
“Jesus,” Dan said again.
“What did you do time for?”
“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dan said.
Ben gave him a go on look.
He let out a long breath. “They got me on armed robbery and involuntary manslaughter.”
“Christ.” Ben shook his head. “Never mind, then. I’ve got the wrong guy for those girls.” He turned to go.
“Wait.”
Ben turned back. “What?”
“How are they?”
“What do you care?”
Dan winced but held eye contact. “Listen, you have no reason to believe me, but the whole arrest…it was a mistake, okay? But regardless, I did the time. I paid the price. I’m out. Making myself a life.”
“Without them,” Ben said harshly.
“I thought they were safe. Happy. Why would I mess with that?”
“Because they need their dad.”
“I’m not equipped to handle kids,” Dan said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with them.”
“How about caring about their welfare? You have a job. You’re a mechanic, so I assume you have wheels. You could get visitation. Hell, you should have custody.”
“I have visitation rights. But I’m not good with kids.”
“You’re their dad,” Ben said again, voice hard. “That means it doesn’t matter that you’re a pussy—you man up.”
“Hey,” a low, angry voice said. “You don’t talk to him like that.”
“You what?” Mr. Wilford asked.
“I ruined your prize pumpkin all those years ago, remember? And how did you get my number?”
“Of course I remember what you did. You cost me a thousand bucks and ruined the best pumpkin I ever grew. And this is Lucky Harbor. It was easy to get your number; I called Lucille.”
“I’m going to grow you new pumpkins,” she said.
“Off-season?”
She sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t plan that part so well. But maybe one of them will be a prize pumpkin,” she said. “It’s my way of apologizing.”
“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me now,” he said. “I’m too old to be worried about the watering.”
Well, crap. She hadn’t thought of that, either. “I’ll do it,” she said.
Ben laughed and then choked it off when she glared at him.
“You’re going to water the pumpkins?” Mr. Wilford asked in disbelief. “You, Miss Fancy Pants?”
“Yes,” she said through her teeth. “I am.”
“Pumpkins like to be watered regularly,” he warned.
“Fine. Um, how often is regular—” But he’d hung up. She slid her phone away.
Ben was still grinning.
“Not a word,” she said, Googling “pumpkin patches.” “Unless you know how often to water pumpkins.”
That night, Aubrey closed up the bookstore after a decent business day and smiled as she walked across the scarred hardwood floors. They’d been a surprising find beneath the carpet. The wood was nice and light, and it seemed to open up the store.
Happy, she headed up to her loft. There, she pulled out her notebook and eyed the crossed-off items, including BEN.
She’d improvised there, and she thought maybe she’d actually pulled it off. But now, without Ben’s prying eyes watching her, she added one more item to the bottom of her list.
THE HARD ONE.
Chapter 15
The next morning, Ben went to work on the countertop for the serving area of the Book & Bean.
Aubrey was two weeks away from her grand-opening party.
Though it would be close, the renovations would be done on time. Ben thought of the coil wire in his pocket. He’d hoped to get at least one more day of driving Aubrey around, even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was up to now.
And it wasn’t trouble. In fact, it was the opposite of trouble. She was working at righting her wrongs, and it was tugging at a part of him that didn’t want to be tugged.
He hadn’t planned on feeling anything for her and was now trying to resign himself to the fact that they had more than just some seriously explosive chemistry. He’d told himself that they could get past that by spending some quality na**d time together, but they’d already tried that, and it’d backfired because he’d gotten past exactly nothing. In fact, now all he wanted was more. A lot more.
It was 7:00 a.m. before he heard signs of life from above, and thirty minutes more before the telltale click, click, click of her boots alerted him that she was coming down. And, like Pavlov’s dog, he started to go hard.
He was ridiculous.
“Ben?”
And just like that, the sound of her husky voice finished the job. He wondered what she’d say to a second round of wild monkey sex, right here, right now. If he just stripped her out of her clothes and sat her on the stack of wood he still had to measure and cut, he could then step between her legs. He’d slide his hands beneath her sexy ass, of course, to prevent splinters. Or they could use her couch. Better yet, he could bend her over the stack of boxes of new stock that’d come in, shove up her dress, and take her from behind.
Yeah. That was the ticket.
She came around the corner, and he unbuckled his tool belt, letting it fall to the floor. They were going to do this, and it was going to be good—
“I’ve got company,” Aubrey said. She went to the front door of the store and opened it.
And then one, two, three…eight women came in behind her, one of them his own aunt Dee.
Lucky Harbor’s resident hell-raisers.
Dee smiled and waved at him, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as she passed him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Croaked.
“Aubrey’s invited my book club to meet at her store,” Dee said. She frowned at him. “You sick, honey?”
“No.” Dee’s book club was a weekly event—“club” being a loose word for a bunch of women who got together, drank too much wine, laughed so loud they could break windows, and talked about everything but books. The “club” had been kicked out of the diner, the bar and grill, and the senior center. They’d been talking about having to disband.
He glanced at Aubrey.
“I wanted them to have a place to go,” she said.
“You’re going to need a ‘crazy’ permit,” he said.
Dee smacked him upside the head. “We’re trying something new,” she said. “Meeting in the early mornings. You know, before people get…feisty.”
Ben sent Aubrey a good luck look that she ignored. Instead, she walked her guests through the bookstore and sat them in the chairs and on the couch that he’d just made nefarious plans for.
“So,” she said, looking to the seniors’ ringleader—Lucille, of course. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Lucille said. “We’re so honored that you’d have us, honey.”
Ben shook his head, cleaned up, and left out the back door. Then he stared at Aubrey’s car in the lot.
Which was minus its coil wire.
He wrestled with his conscience and lost. Blowing out a sigh, he popped open the hood and began to put it back.
“Whatcha doing?”
He nearly jumped out of his skin, then gave Luke a long look across the engine compartment.
Luke grinned. “Scared ya. You committing a misdemeanor for any reason in particular?”
“I’m not committing anything. And why are you here?”
“Got a call that a suspicious-looking character was lounging around back here and screwing up cars that belong to pretty blondes.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, I didn’t get a call,” Luke said. “I stopped by Ali’s shop to say hey.”
No, he’d stopped by the shop to get laid. Because Luke had an unmistakable I-just-got-laid look to him. Ben sighed. He’d like to have that look…
“So want to tell me what you’re up to?” Luke asked.
“Hell, no.”
Luke grinned. “That’s okay. I already figured it out.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Sure I did. You kissed Aubrey last week, and now you’re doing something stupid to f**k it all up.”
Ben narrowed his gaze. “Let me guess how you know about the kiss. Facebook?”
“Ali.” Luke shrugged. “You were the one stupid enough to do it up against the wall and visible through the window. Rookie mistake,” he said, and tsked.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ben asked.
“Nope. So. You and Aubrey, huh? You two going to…?”
Well, at least he didn’t know that much. Ben didn’t answer. Instead he made sure the coil wire was back in place and shut the hood. Then he headed toward his truck.
“Hey,” Luke said. “Waiting for the details here.”
“Ask your fiancée.”
Ben did a morning run with Sam, who, unlike some of his nosy-ass friends, did not press him for details on the Aubrey situation.
After their run, Ben headed to Seattle. He found Bob’s Auto Shop, parked, and walked to the first open bay. A linebacker-size guy rolled out from beneath a lifted truck, wearing overalls and no shirt. He didn’t need one; he had tat sleeves down both arms and over his chest. The patch on his overalls read BIG ED. “Can I help you?” the giant asked.
“I’m looking for Dan Ingalls,” Ben said.
Big Ed gave a chin jerk toward the next car over. The guy working on it was built the same as Ed the Linebacker, though he was wearing a shirt. He had tats, too, including a teardrop beneath his eye.
The patch on his overalls read BIG BOB.
Ben was sensing a pattern here. “How you doing?” he asked Big Bob.
Big Bob didn’t smile, just looked at him as he slowly cracked his knuckles.
A real friendly bunch. Terrific. “Looking for Dan Ingalls,” Ben said again.
Big Bob did the same chin jerk Big Ed had done, toward the back of the shop this time. Ben headed back there, very aware that he now had the two guys at his back and most likely yet another one in front of him somewhere. He found a truck, hood up, and indeed there was a guy standing on a step stool, head buried in the engine compartment, torquing something.
“Dan Ingalls?” Ben asked.
Dan didn’t stop what he was doing or even look up. “Who wants to know?”
“A friend of your kids.”
Dan went still, not even pulling his head out of the compartment. “What?”
He didn’t repeat himself. Still keeping track of the big boys, Bob and Ed, at his back, Ben kept his voice low. He wasn’t too worried; he’d been in worse spots—far worse—but there was no reason to be stupid.
Dan straightened. He was easily one-third the size of his two co-workers. No muscles. No tats. What he did have was crazy, wild hair, the exact color of a copper penny, flying around his thin, angular face and stark blue eyes. He was skinny as a toothpick and short enough to barely meet Ben’s shoulder. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Ben McDaniel. I live in Lucky Harbor, where your girls live in a foster home. A shitty foster home,” Ben added harshly. “And I wanted to see why they aren’t with you.”
Dan looked a little shaken. “I don’t have kids.”
Ben arched a brow.
Dan came down off the stepladder and hitched his chin to indicate Ben should follow him out of the garage. They passed the very large Big Ed, and then the equally large Big Bob, both of whom were watching Ben with stony expressions.
Ben ignored them completely.
“Sorry about that,” Dan said when they were outside. “They’re…protective of me.”
“Why? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Dan looked away for a moment, then gained a slight measure of Ben’s respect when he met Ben’s gaze straight on. “I was.”
“And your kids?”
Dan shook his head. “I told you, I don’t have any.”
“Odd, since you have two mini-me’s in Lucky Harbor who are your spitting image.”
Dan gave a sharp exhale and walked away, going about ten feet before pacing back. “I waived my rights so that they could get adopted.”
“Then why are they in a foster home?”
“Because their mom died,” Dan said.
“And you didn’t feel the need to take them?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“I’m not father material.”
“Should have thought about that before you had them,” Ben said.
Again Dan paced. “What do you mean, the foster home is shitty?” he finally asked.
“You don’t know what ‘shitty’ means?”
Dan sank to a concrete planter that had nothing it in but dirt and cigarette butts. He shoved his fingers through his hair and studied his knees. “I didn’t want this life for them.”
“Well, what the hell did you think would happen when their mom died and you didn’t step up?”
“I—I don’t know. I…I was in jail for a while.”
“Yeah, your daughters told me.”
He looked sick. “They know?”
“I’m not sure what they know, but they said you’re up for, and I quote, ‘the big one.’”
“Jesus.” Dan rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth. “They’re five.”
“They’re growing up fast.”
“Jesus,” Dan said again.
“What did you do time for?”
“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dan said.
Ben gave him a go on look.
He let out a long breath. “They got me on armed robbery and involuntary manslaughter.”
“Christ.” Ben shook his head. “Never mind, then. I’ve got the wrong guy for those girls.” He turned to go.
“Wait.”
Ben turned back. “What?”
“How are they?”
“What do you care?”
Dan winced but held eye contact. “Listen, you have no reason to believe me, but the whole arrest…it was a mistake, okay? But regardless, I did the time. I paid the price. I’m out. Making myself a life.”
“Without them,” Ben said harshly.
“I thought they were safe. Happy. Why would I mess with that?”
“Because they need their dad.”
“I’m not equipped to handle kids,” Dan said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with them.”
“How about caring about their welfare? You have a job. You’re a mechanic, so I assume you have wheels. You could get visitation. Hell, you should have custody.”
“I have visitation rights. But I’m not good with kids.”
“You’re their dad,” Ben said again, voice hard. “That means it doesn’t matter that you’re a pussy—you man up.”
“Hey,” a low, angry voice said. “You don’t talk to him like that.”
