Ben wanted to be the one noticing things and tuning into her.
So much for not getting too involved.
Hell, he hadn’t even slept with her yet.
“Incoming,” one of the boys muttered.
Another slipped the device into his jacket pocket and the third flipped open the paperback book he’d been holding. They stayed huddled together but now it looked like they were studying—and had been all along.
The boy who had been dozing surreptitiously pulled another copy of the book from his jacket and propped it open on his stomach. He opened his eyes and focused on a page without moving his head, making it seem from behind—where Jessica was coming from—that he’d been reading the whole time.
Mario slid yet another copy from under the pizza box lid, already open and kept it flat against the table and Ben knew from where Jessica had been across the room she wouldn’t have been able to see the book, or lack of it, on the table top.
“Twelve o’clock,” Mario muttered with a faint smile at Ben.
“How’s it going over here?” Jessica asked
Ben turned and smiled at her, wishing he could pull her down onto his lap.
“It’s going great,” he said.
“What are you guys talking about?”
Jessica tried to act casual but she’d already been good about keeping her distance and letting Ben get to know the kids.
Having him here made her jumpy, though she couldn’t say why for sure. Ever since Ben had walked into the center, casual as you please, as if nothing had happened last night, she’d been waiting for…something. After last night, she had convinced herself that not only did she not expect to see much more of Ben personally, she didn’t care. Thinking about giving up the promotion in the ER made her stomach hurt, but not as much as Ben made her heart hurt. He’d been a jerk the night before, spouting off about how unrewarding his work was, and she had realized on the way home in the cab that she didn’t want to be around him if that was how he felt.
She also didn’t like how sorry he was feeling for himself. What he’d been through with losing everyone in Africa was horrible. She could understand what he was feeling; she’d lived with guilt and regret long enough to recognize it easily in someone else. But she didn’t like his moping and pouting. When she’d regretted her choices, she’d jumped in and done something, tried to make up for them. Ben was running and she didn’t like that characteristic at all.
The problem with walking away from him because of those things was that she didn’t think he liked those things in himself any better than she did.
And now he was here. Voluntarily. Spending time with the kids. If he was here because he’d had a change of heart and realized the good that could be done here, great. If he was here simply to butter her up after last night, well…it was working.
It seemed that Ben and Mario could be friends—or a bad influence on each other. They both drove her crazy in the same way by not realizing their full potential.
At least for Mario there was some justification with his sorry excuse of a mother and no positive male role model. Ben was acting like a spoiled brat.
But Ben could be someone Mario could look up to. And that was what made her decide to talk to him again after all.
“Ben’s helping us with our American Lit class,” Mario said.
Ben turned back to face the boy and Jessica could no longer see his expression.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
Mario held up the front of the book. Lord of the Flies.
She crossed her arms. She’d read it. She wondered if Ben had. He was obviously a smart guy, but she had the sneaking suspicion that American Literature was not the topic of his conversation with Mario. Jessica moved to the side a couple of steps so she could see Ben’s face.
He glanced at the other boys, who were watching him as well. If they hadn’t been discussing the book, Ben might confess and keep himself out of trouble.
“Yeah, but I think we should finish the discussion after they read the waterfall scene. It’s my favorite,” Ben said.
“Waterfall scene?” Mario asked.
“Yeah, with all the naked native girls,” Ben said pushing back from the table. “It’s hot.”
Jessica checked Mario’s reaction to Ben’s comment. He simply quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything, though, and Jessica couldn’t help but admit that Mario must like Ben.
Ben took her elbow and steered her away from the table. She enjoyed the way his large hand engulfed her arm and the heat of him against her side. Ben wasn’t even attempting to be subtle about touching her. She was amazed by how at ease he was putting his hands on her—and how much she enjoyed it—considering what little amount of time they’d known each other.
“I’m on to you, Torres,” she said when they were across the room from the boys.
“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning in and pushing open the door leading into the hallway.
“I’ve read Lord of the Flies.”
“Great book.”
She smiled as she stepped out into the hallway. “Ben, there are no naked native girls in that book.”
He grinned the grin that always made her want to start taking her clothes off. “I know. But they won’t know it until they’ve read the whole thing looking for it.”
The door swung shut behind them, leaving them alone in the hallway between the rec room and the office.
She laughed. “I don’t know that you’ll get invited to any more book club meetings after they figure out what you did.”
Ben smiled. “Maybe they’ll forgive me when they see their test scores.” He looked around. “Want to make out?”
It took her a second to catch up with his change of topic. “Yes,” she answered.
He looked surprised for an instant, but moved closer quickly. “Great.”
“But we can’t,” she said, putting a hand up against his chest to keep him, literally, at arm’s length. “Anyone could walk out here at any time.”
“Have you seen Sophie, the little pregnant girl in there?” Ben asked, still crowding closer in spite of her hand. “I have a feeling a lot of these kids are familiar with making out.”
Jessica laughed, sounding and feeling breathless as Ben braced a hand on the wall behind her. “I have to be a good role model. Show them that you can say no to things even when you really, really want them.”
“I have a feeling you’ve said no more times than anyone I know.”
“And you want to be the one that teaches me yes,” Jessica said. If he only knew.
“I prefer ‘yes, oh, yes Ben’, but we can start slow.”
She laughed again in spite of the fact that her heart was racing and her blood was heating.
He leaned in until their lips almost touched. “I’m sorry about how last night ended.”
She nodded. “Me too. I’m glad you got home all right.”
“I felt bad enough after you left that I didn’t have anything more to drink. And Sam showed up about ten minutes later.” Ben brushed his lips across hers in a not-quite-a-kiss.
“Thank you for coming here today,” she whispered.
“Did it help get me back on your good side?”
“Is that the only reason you came?”
“Yes,” he said. “But now it’s not the only reason I’m glad that I came. How’s that?”
She smiled. “Good enough.”
“Let’s practice that yes word,” he said, his hand bringing her hips closer to his. “Do you want to make out?”
“Yes.”
He looked pleased for one second, then frowned suspiciously. “Will you make out with me?”
“No.”
He sighed and leaned back resignedly. “I guess you’re going to go miniature golfing then.”
“Miniature golfing?” Jessica repeated. What a strange alternative to making out. “Why am I going miniature golfing?” And could she convince Russ that this was an important step in getting
Ben back to work?
“Because you want to spend time with me and I’m going to be miniature golfing. If I can’t make out with you, that is.”
“Does the miniature golf course have a bar?” she asked.
“Concession stand. But no bar.”
After last night, that was all she needed to hear.
Ben was really just a big kid, which Jessica would have never guessed from how he came across in the ER. Her vision of him was more that of a military general: thinking clearly and quickly on his feet, commanding respect because he was the first to charge into the middle of the situation, not only willing but preferring to be in the trenches with his people. At work he was intensely serious, focused and thorough. He was also somewhat demanding of the staff he worked with and was saved from being considered a jerk by the fact that he worked longer and harder than anyone, demanding more of himself than he did of those around him. And the fact that he was downright funny when the trauma was over.
The miniature golf course was entirely different. He didn’t concentrate or focus at all. He was very preoccupied with touching Jessica every chance he got, consuming as much junk food as he could and singing along—badly—with the oldies played over the loud speakers.
Jess was trying to line up a shot on the last hole, visually measuring and calculating the angle of the shot.
Ben was behind her and she could feel him studying her backside. She missed the shot by at least two feet.
She turned on him with a scowl. “You ruined my concentration.”
“It’s miniature golf, Jess,” he said chuckling. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
“Which means you’re not supposed to even try to do a good job?” She felt pouty. She hated to lose.
“You try to do the best job on everything,” he said.
“So?”
He shrugged. “So, I don’t.”
“You still won,” she pointed out.
He grinned. “I know. Maybe there’s a lesson in there for you.”
Yeah, like not miniature golfing with Ben anymore. Cavalier attitudes bothered her.
They turned their clubs in and Ben headed for the snack bar.
“You ever heard of high cholesterol, Dr. Torres?” Jess asked as she watched him scoop a sinful amount of nacho cheese sauce onto a corn chip and shove the whole thing into his mouth. There was a little boy’s birthday party going on across the room, but they were alone in the immediate area at the corner table.
“You ever heard of a thing called relaxing?” he asked, thankfully after he swallowed.
She wiped a glob of cheese off the tabletop near Ben’s elbow with a napkin. “You seem to be in good health,” she said. “I figured as someone who’s seen what a poor diet and lack of exercise can do, you would watch it better.”
“I used to care about that,” he said. “Do you know, though, that there are places in the world that don’t even have cheese?”
“I’m not even sure that what you’re eating actually is cheese.”
He washed another mouthful down with a large swig of his third soda. “Appreciating what you have, even indulging once in a while is good.” He swiveled on his stool, took aim and launched the empty soda can into the trashcan a few feet away. It was a perfect shot.
She looked at him closely. “Are you still trying to get me to sleep with you?”
He laughed, another chip partway to his mouth. “In general, yes. At this moment, with this conversation, no. Good to know where your mind is though.”
She blushed and stood up, crossing to the trash can. She retrieved the aluminum can from the top of the garbage and transferred it to the recycling bin. Back in her chair, she dug an anti-bacterial wet wipe from the packet she carried in her purse and wiped her hands.
She looked up to find Ben watching her.
He glanced at the wet wipe, then back at her face, but said nothing about it.
“Why did you think I was trying to get you to sleep with me just then?” he asked.
Because she liked it when he flirted and liked the idea that he was pursuing her. But just because she felt the chemistry between them every moment didn’t mean that he did, and she would do well to remember that so she didn’t embarrass herself.
“The word indulgence made me think you might mean I should indulge.”
“You should.” He polished off the last chip.
“With you?”
“Yes. And at the lingerie store.”
She tried to hide her smile. “So it is all about sex.”
“Sex is one of my favorite features of life on earth, but there are other good ones too.”
It was easier to be disapproving when he reminded her of the women who had shared his bed.
“Drinking is one of those things?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sleeping in, ice-cream sundaes, vacations, staying up late, great books, great movies. There are a thousand things. You can’t spend all your time on only one or two things and you can’t live by the rules all the time.”
“Rules keep things in control, make things predictable and keep things fair,” she said.
“And occasionally breaking the rules makes things interesting.”
She huffed in frustration. “I notice you didn’t mention your work as something that makes life good.”
His face hardened almost instantly. “Mine hasn’t.”
“I don’t understand how you can say that,” she protested.
He scowled. “Doctors work often horrendous hours, are deeply in debt because of medical school loans, are terribly sleep-deprived and deal with illness, depression and death every day. Every time we heal someone, two more people get sick. Not to mention that that first person will also get sick again eventually. What’s the point?”
She stared at him. “Wow, you have got a serious ego problem, you know that?
He frowned at her. “An ego problem?”
“Yeah, you think that you’ve got it rough, don’t you? You think all the crap in the world keeps getting dumped into your lap. Poor Ben, right?”
He felt offended, but also…strangely intrigued. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ben watched Jessica shake her hair back from her face and look at him with an expression he hadn’t seen before and didn’t like. She looked angry, and determined, and resigned.
“You’re not the only one who’s had shitty things happen to them.” She took a deep breath, and said on her exhale, “My mom walked out on us when I was twelve and my dad got shot protecting my apartment from three young punks who were looking for drug money when I was twenty.”
Ben felt the globs of cheese he’d eaten and the bucket of soda he’d drunk mix and congeal in his stomach. Maybe he’d overdone it. “God, Jess, I—”
She held up her hand to stop him and took another shaky breath. “Let me tell you this.”
He nodded. He didn’t want her to, because it wasn’t going to be good. But he’d dumped on her last night, told her all about his grief. And it had felt better. Not immediately, but later. Later he’d felt like maybe there would be a time, sometime, in the future, when it would be okay. Or at least not quite so bad.
He wanted to do that for her. If hearing her story would help her at all, he’d listen. “My mom left us when Sara was two. I was twelve, but it took me years to connect all the dots. When I was sixteen, my dad’s sister told me the whole story. My dad was eight years older than her and she was a runaway when they met.”
Ben watched Jessica’s face. She was staring at her hands, which were spread flat on the table in front of her. But he knew she wasn’t seeing them.
“Dad took her in, got her cleaned up and then married her. To save her. I mean, I think he believed that he loved her, but she was just another one of his projects. My dad believed very strongly in purpose…in having a reason for doing things. So he gave my mom a purpose. He made her a mother. To me. And then when she got restless and unhappy, he got her pregnant with Sam. And then later, with Sa
ra. Finally, it was too much.”
Jessica looked up at Ben. There were no tears in her eyes. The sadness seemed to go deeper than that. “My dad was an intense guy. I can feel sorry for my mom, because I know what it was like to live with him. I hate to say that he didn’t believe in pleasure but…he didn’t believe in having or spending extra money, for instance. You made what you absolutely had to have and that was it. If you had any extra, you gave it away. Same thing with your time. You used your time on the basics—school for us, work for him—but extra time, free time was to be donated, spent making the world a better place.”
“You grew up poor?” Ben asked, fascinated and relieved to be given this look into Jessica and her past.
She nodded. “You could say that. But my dad made good money. He was a lawyer. Of course, he did lots of pro bono work. But he gave lots and lots of money away too. I mean, we had electricity, heat, air conditioning, that stuff. But we didn’t have television or video games. We had books. We had a radio, but not tapes or records. See what I mean? The basics only. The rest went to those less fortunate.”
Ben was amazed. He’d never heard of anyone living like that. “And your mom couldn’t take it?”
Jessica shook her head. “And I didn’t blame her.” She laughed. “When I was old enough to know that she’d left and why, I understood. And it made me mad at my father. It was his fault she left. I mean, he couldn’t have bought a stupid TV to keep his wife happy?”
“Do you really think she left because she didn’t have a TV?” Ben asked gently.
“Of course not. It was the whole thing, the whole philosophy that she had to live with. That everyone else is always more important and that having fun was selfish.”
“What about you and Sam and Sara?” Ben asked. “What did you do?”
“I stepped in and did a lot of the stuff around the house. Dad hired a woman to help take care of us. Sara doesn’t remember any of it and Sam barely does. And we didn’t know what we were missing. Sure, our friends had TV and stuff, but we didn’t spend a lot of time anywhere else. We had chores and charity work to do as soon as we were old enough.”
Just Right: The Bradfords, Book 1 Page 14
