Sam didn’t get too attached to his patients either. He’d told Ben once that he’d chosen being a paramedic partly because he could work the overnight shifts he preferred and partly because he didn’t have to do anything more than keep them alive, however he could, until they hit the ER. Then the big decisions, the tough choices and the hard work were someone else’s responsibility. Like his.
“I need to be more like you,” Ben said, shaking his head. Sam pushed a plate with two sandwiches toward him. “You have to show me how. Give me lessons or something.”
Sam even used paper plates. No washing, no worrying about breakage.
“The warming oil has directions on it, man. I am not showing you how to use it.” Sam took a huge bite of bread and cheese and yet still managed his unapologetic grin.
“I’m talking about the way you get by without anyone expecting more of you.” Ben bit into his sandwich too.
Sam washed his food down with a big swig of milk. “That sounds like maybe I should be insulted.”
“No, you should appreciate it,” Ben said emphatically. “You can do your thing your way and everyone accepts it.”
Sam finished off his first sandwich, watching Ben contemplatively as he spoke. “Basically I’m irresponsible and inconsiderate.”
Ben scowled at him. “I’m commending you. I want to be like you.”
Sam laughed. “I wasn’t offended. I was clarifying what you were saying.”
“I’ll give you an example,” Ben said, on a roll now. “I can remember the names and birthdates of all but one of the women I’ve slept with. How about you?”
Sam looked amazed. “Hell, no. Are you kidding?”
“I’ve had one one-night stand. And I do remember her name. Otherwise, I’ve slept with three women, all of whom I had significant relationships with.”
“It’s not necessarily bad to have only slept with a few women, most of whom you really cared about,” Sam countered. “You’re what they call one of the good guys.”
“I’m guessing the woman who owned the warming oil thought you were pretty good,” Ben said dryly.
Sam grinned. “Sure. Yeah. For that. At the time. But I can also assure you that she didn’t call begging me to come home and meet her parents.”
“You’re a good guy,” Ben said. “You just don’t take things too seriously. You know when to say when. You don’t try to fix everything for everyone else. You know that you can’t always make everyone happy so you don’t worry about it.”
“And you’re not like that,” Sam said, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. I get that. It’s not that you don’t know when to say when… You don’t even know that there is a when. Especially with work. Right?”
Because his dad never said when.
The thought flashed through Ben’s head before he could stop it, or brace for it.
His father had been all about his work. Being a missionary had been Michael Torres’ calling and he put his heart and soul into it. Everyone he had ever known respected him and was inspired by him. But none of those people had lived with him. None of them knew what it was like to always have the work, the calling, the mission put first. Ben had been loved, but he had never been prioritized. Neither had his mother. They were expected to be self-sufficient enough, emotionally strong enough, smart enough to not require Michael to take time or resources away from his work.
Michael had known that he would give one hundred percent to his work. He’d never intended to have a wife and family. But he’d accidentally fallen in love with Ben’s mother. Then they had accidentally gotten pregnant. Not that Ben ever believed Michael regretted being a husband and father. But he couldn’t focus on it. His work was what he lived for and what he taught his son to value. Work, service, sacrifice. Those were the ideals Ben had inherited from his father. And even though he knew how it felt to be an afterthought, Ben had felt guilty, lazy and selfish any time he’d entertained ideas of focusing on something other than his work.
There had been no such thing as free time, blowing off steam or frivolity in Michael’s life, and he’d managed to take those out of his son’s imagination as well.
Even when he was watching a football game on TV at home, Ben had a medical journal open in his lap. If he was having a beer with the guys after an especially hard day in the ER, he was still replaying cases, and planning for the next day. Even with women he was always only partially there. They didn’t know it, of course, but he couldn’t remember one woman he’d ever given one hundred percent of his attention to.
Until Jessica.
Until the one woman who constantly tried to get him to focus on other things.
It was perfect. Perfectly frustrating as hell.
“I want to learn how to say when,” Ben announced.
“It’s not that hard,” Sam said. “Hell, you just need to hook up with people who have the expectations that you want to meet.”
Sam’s words hit Ben direct in the gut. Quitting his job at the hospital was a step in the right direction in getting away from some of the people who expected so much of him.
The only thing he wasn’t sure of was what to do with the people he didn’t want to get away from.
“You look like hell,” Sam observed as he turned back toward the refrigerator.
Sam tossed a can toward Ben.
Ben caught the can and started to protest, his system rejecting the idea of any further additions of alcohol to his blood stream. He knew how to avoid hangovers, but he’d also drunk more in the past week than he had in the past five years. He thought he could possibly feel his liver cells dying even now. It was a nerdy reaction to the morning after a binge, but he’d always been much more the studious type than the party type.
He realized it was a soda before he turned it down, though, and went ahead and popped the top before acknowledging his friend’s comment.
“That’s about right.”
He wasn’t hungover and he’d gotten nearly nine hours of sleep, but he was feeling pretty damn lousy about how he’d left things with Jessica last night. Not to mention that Jessica was not waking up beside him this morning, a fact his libido continued to protest.
In short, he was crabby and horny.
“How about you?” he asked.
Sam loved to go out and Ben knew that his friend rarely saw the hours between about four a.m. and noon. That’s why he preferred the late ambulance shift. Sam was a night owl by nature.
Sam shrugged. “I’m okay.” He took a swig of Coke and glanced through the open archway at the television in the living room.
Ben shifted and took a drink as well, watching as the shortstop scooped up a line drive and threw the runner out at first.
“Are you pissed that I sent Jess after you in the bar the night you quit work?” Sam asked.
Abrupt changes of topic were not unusual with Sam, so Ben barely blinked. Paramedics, ER doctors and nurses and anyone else who dealt with mere minutes separating life and death learned to cut to the chase. It was a work habit that very often spilled over into other aspects of socialization.
Ben looked across the countertop at his friend. Was he pissed that Jessica had come to get him?
“No. Not at all.”
Sam nodded. “Didn’t think you would be.”
“You didn’t have to send her, though,” Ben added.
“Yeah, I did.” Sam ambled into the living room and settled into a chair.
Ben frowned. Not because Jessica had been the one to come for him, but because he hadn’t needed a babysitter.
“I was doing fine,” he felt obligated to say as he sank onto the end of the couch.
Sam laughed. “I doubt it.”
Ben scowled. “What the hell does that mean?”
Sam grinned at him. “You’re a fun guy. I like going out with you and everything. But I’m not sure you’re up to partying on your own.”
“I wasn’t on my own.”
“Right, you were with a couple of girls that thought you
filled your pants out well and a couple of pool sharks who thought you filled your wallet out well. You were on your own, man.”
“I wanted to be on my own.”
“Yeah, well, friends don’t leave friends to their own stupidity,” Sam said. “We’ve all seen too many of the consequences of driving yourself home mad, drunk or both.”
Ben didn’t want to thank Sam. The other man was younger, had a reckless streak four times the size of anything Ben was capable of and had a reputation with the women that made even a few of the paramedics blush.
But Sam was a good friend and had been looking out for him. Plus, he’d sent Jessica.
“I appreciate your intentions,” he finally said. “But…”
“Forget it,” Sam said, stretching out his legs and propping his feet on the coffee table. “I figure you’re paying me back. For one thing, Jessica is worried about you right now, which means she’s letting up on me. Besides, she needed to have sex.”
Ben frowned at Sam, but his friend’s eyes were on the television. It wasn’t fair that Sam got to be so laid back and comfortable and worry-free all the time. Work and women didn’t rile him up, but Ben thought maybe he knew something that would. Maybe the only thing.
“Sam, you remember the waitress that you took home from Eddie’s bar two months ago?”
“Jennifer.” Then he pulled his eyebrows together. “Or was it Jill? No, it was Jennifer. Jen. Or Jan. Anyway, I remember her,” Sam said, with a large smile, his eyes back on the baseball game.
“You remember the things you told us about her and what all she was willing to do?”
“Sure.” Another big grin.
“Sam, I want to do all of those things to your sister and then some. At least twice.” Ben paused and let that sink in.
That did get Sam’s attention. But not for the reason Ben anticipated.
“Are you telling me that you and Jessica haven’t slept together yet?”
It was official—nothing could get Sam Bradford’s blood pressure up.
“No. We haven’t slept together yet.” Ben frowned. “But I can assure you that it won’t be a problem much longer.”
“What the hell have you been doing all this time?” Sam asked, incredulous. “Damn, man, no wonder you don’t have anybody leaving sex gel at your place.”
“Doesn’t it bother you to be encouraging some guy to sleep with your sister?”
“You’re not just some guy.”
“I don’t have to worry about you coming after me to defend her honor?”
Sam laughed. “I don’t think it will surprise you that Jessica doesn’t need a lot of defending. But of course if she needed me. I’d step in. Then again, you’re not exactly hurting her.”
Of course he would never hurt Jessica. But… “I’m not doing anything to her, Sam.”
“Oh, yes you are,” Sam said. “You’re helping her have fun. You’re reminding her that she doesn’t have to push and worry and prepare and watch her back all the time. You’re making her happy.”
Ben didn’t need to hear that.
That was what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that he was important to her. At the same time, it complicated everything. It meant that she was important to him too. And that meant that his attempt at reckless and just-for-fun was failing miserably.
Which ticked him off.
He didn’t fail things. Ben was good at, and gave his best to, everything.
Besides, hearing Sam talk about emotions was creepy.
“Listen, Sam, I want to—and fully intend to—sleep with your sister. In every position I know and a few I intend to make up as I go.”
That sounded good to him, especially out loud. It was a solid plan. It certainly met his goal. His only goal, he assured himself. Complete and utter physical satisfaction…for both of them.
There was a pause before Sam asked, “Then what?”
Ben looked at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“What then? When you’ve run out of positions?”
“Then…” Ben meant to say that’s it. In fact, for a moment he thought he had said it. It was what he should say. But the two words simply wouldn’t come forth.
“Then?” Sam prompted after a long moment of nothing but silence.
Ben finally managed to find an honest answer to give his friend that seemed to know him too well at times.
“I’m not looking for anything long-term or serious, Sam.”
That was the truth from the bottom of his heart.
Of course, him not looking for it didn’t mean that it hadn’t found him anyway.
Sam whistled low. “They let you cut people’s bodies open and mess around inside?”
Ben frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They let you use a scalpel on people, but you’re stupid enough to think that this thing with Jessica is only about sex.” Then Sam laughed. “That will make this even more fun to watch.”
Ben didn’t appreciate his friend’s enjoyment of his situation, but he was out of defenses. “Hey, Sam, you know that sixty bucks I owe you?”
“I’m never getting it back, right?”
“No way.”
Chapter Six
Late that afternoon, Ben was greeted enthusiastically by the five boys surrounding the long table at the far end of the room. The four large pizzas and case of soda he carried were a big part of that, of course.
Except for Mario, who always seemed suspicious of him.
“What’s this?” Mario asked, taking the lead as usual, though not even shifting an inch from the posture where he had an elbow on the table, an ankle crossed over a knee and his back so slouched he appeared four inches shorter than he was.
Ben gave the boy direct eye contact. “Thought I’d be more welcome if I came with food.”
Mario acknowledged the truth of the statement with a single nod. “Why do you care about being welcome?”
“I need to make Jessica happy with me again, it makes her happy if I hang out with you guys and I thought pizza would convince you guys to let me hang out with you.”
“And why do you care if Miss Bradford is happy?” Mario asked.
Because he’d screwed up big time the night before. Ben put the pizzas down and took a chair. “It makes it a lot easier to kiss her.”
He didn’t feel bad about sharing the somewhat private truth. These kids had seen a lot of real life and he was sure the fact that men and women liked to kiss hadn’t escaped them. It wouldn’t surprise him if some of them had even noticed that Jessica was kissable, though he thought Mario saw Jessica more as a big sister.
None of the boys commented. Most of them were already munching pizza but Mario was watching Ben as if trying to figure something out.
“Is she happy now?” Mario asked, jutting his chin toward something over Ben’s right shoulder.
Ben turned to find Jessica standing across the room. She was talking to Sophie, the pregnant girl Ben had counseled the night before. But Jessica was positioned strategically so she could see everything Ben and the boys were doing. He knew that wasn’t an accident.
He turned back around. “You know her pretty well. What do you think?”
The boy’s eyes glanced to Jessica again, then returned to Ben. Ben detected a hint of satisfaction over his acknowledgement of Mario’s relationship with Jessica.
Mario shrugged. “She’s seemed different lately.”
That got Ben’s attention. “Yeah?” He forced himself to not react.
No sense in both of them thinking he was pathetic over Jessica.
He didn’t know what Mario meant and it might not matter. In fact, it shouldn’t matter. “How’s that?” he asked anyway.
Mario glanced at the other guys at the table. Three were gathered around some handheld device with a screen, one bobbing his head up and down to the beat that was emanating from the device. The other boy at the table was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed and his hands clasped over his stomach.
Mario turned back to Ben. “She seems more relaxed, I guess.”
“Is she usually tense?” He could see it. Jessica seemed to know what she wanted and how to get it. Perhaps the determined focus he appreciated in her in the ER was really who she was.
Mario sat up straighter and leaned in. “Why do you care?”
Ben thought about that, his eyes again returning to Jessica. She was now on hands and knees rummaging in the bottom of the storage closet. His body responded like it was programmed, evidently not minding a bit that she now wore denim instead of scrub pants. Or that she was royally pissed at him.
Ben looked into the intense brown eyes staring him down.
“Told you—kissing,” Ben said.
“You don’t have to know her to kiss her,” Mario replied without missing a beat.
The kid had a point.
“I don’t really know her.”
“But you want to.”
Mario was right. Ben tried to tell himself that it was sex-driven. He wanted to know every inch of her body, know how she sounded and looked as she orgasmed, find out what she fantasized about.
“Yeah, I want to,” Ben agreed, knowing the sex stuff was only part of it even as he spoke.
“Do you think she wants to know you?” Mario asked.
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Which was a surprising turn-on.
Mario paused, watching Ben, then sat back in his seat. “All right.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop for a few seconds. Finally he said, “I think she likes to goof off. I think that’s more who she is. But she thinks she has to be the serious, in-charge type. And she has to work at that…and to make others believe it.”
Ben knew in his gut that Mario was right and he was amazed. He’d have to remember that Mario was not just bright; he didn’t miss a detail, obviously cared a lot about Jessica and was frighteningly good at analyzing people.
Ben was also jealous. Sure, Mario had known Jessica longer, but he wasn’t supposed to know her. It was okay if Mario knew how she liked her pizza or that she wore a lot of green. But Mario had noticed things that Ben suspected Jessica didn’t even consciously realize.
Just Right: The Bradfords, Book 1 Page 13
