“Since you brought me a bottle of wine, I don’t think I have much choice here. Do I act like a boorish, uncouth asshole and drink your wine by myself tonight? Or do I act according to genteel southern manners and say yes?”
“You’re not an asshole if you truly would prefer to dine alone. But if you’re saying no because you would prefer to shut me out? Well, that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.” He was grateful she didn’t take offense to his statement as her laughter pealed around him in the confines of the large country kitchen and let him know she could take a joke.
The joy changed her face from lovely to stunning, as if she glowed from within radiantly. “Alright, have a seat. It should be ready in a few minutes. Do you want anything to drink while you wait?”
“I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen. That is, if you don’t mind help.”
“There isn’t much left to do Ben.”
“Well, how about I pour us both a glass and we can watch water boil together?”
It was the beginning to a beautiful friendship. But Benjamin wanted more than to be her friend. He wanted to be her lover. He wanted to be the person she told all of her secrets to. If she would let him in that close. The evening was spent with a heady mix of laughter as he told self-effacing jokes and she chuckled in all of the right places. He knew there was chemistry between them, if she would just let her guard down long enough to feel it with him. But at the end of the night he knew she was the most gracious, personable and lovely woman he’d ever met.
And he’d met plenty of women in his time, just none like her. She was unable to be herself around other people and she closed off the natural facets of her personality due to her shame. He could tell she was embarrassed of the way she looked, but none of that mattered. She was healthy enough to renovate her own home and she was healthy enough to spend time with him. Those things mattered more to him than all of the sex the world had to offer, or all of the physical perfection that could be found on Earth.
He’d had his fair share of women who were unable to see anything beyond themselves and what things appeared to be. The only things that concerned them were broken nails and whether their outfits were couture designs down to their drawers or not. Or whether he would purchase said outfit. People who were only concerned about how far they go in life and everything else be damned. But Amelia cared about others and what the state of the world around her was like.
He knew she appreciated the finer things in life, her home and the care she took in her own appearance showed him that. But it was far from the end all, be all, to her existence. He still had no idea what she did for a living. He knew it was enough that she didn’t have to leave her house if she chose not to. But then again she had no idea who he used to be either, and he had to admit that he could care less about the people they were. What truly mattered was who they were now and planned to be tomorrow.
By the end of the night, he was sure that she could grow to care for him, just like she had wormed her way into a piece of his heart over the last months. It would just take time, and he had plenty of that in spades.
It seemed that for the next few weeks, she allowed him into her sanctuary with less reluctance, and more excitement. Even he felt the change, the easy transition from acquaintances to a comfortable casual friendship, one that he had never been privileged to have with another person before. It was more than the testosterone laden joviality between men and more than the heat of attraction he would feel with a woman. It was more than all of those things, but less as well. The new emotions were fragile, they felt like a house of matches waiting for the wind to blow the flimsy structure down and reveal everything within.
Like the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve.
The idea of feeling so much for a woman, especially one that he knew wanted to keep him at arm’s length was a bitter pill to swallow. So he left the thoughts behind and picked up the latest copy of Ambrose Jenner to pass the slow moments at work that had left his idle brain with too much time to think.
A few days later, Ben was back at Amelia’s for dinner. She had gone out of the way to make him country fried steak and mashed potatoes complete with tea after he mentioned it was one of his favorite meals the week before. She had gotten him good and he had no idea what was on the menu until he arrived that Tuesday evening. The smells of the frying steak and butter greeted him at the door before he could even lug the first bag inside.
“That smells fantastic.”
“Hope it tastes that good, I’ve never made this before and I had to look up a recipe.”
“Well from here? It smells like a country kitchen, amazing, especially considering you’re a Yank.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I would never be so crass as to insult you, Amelia.”
“I would hope that you would be a gentleman when dining in my home Ben.”
The night continued as usual, laughter and jokes amid a fine meal. Only tonight, Ben planned to taste her lips finally. He had an obsession with her full mouth and wanted nothing more than to kiss her. But he was trying to take it slow. The last thing he wanted was to push her away by being too forceful. She was a mite skittish and he knew she would bolt if he pressed his suit too far, too fast.
When they finished, Ben took the liberty of clearing the table along with washing dishes. Amelia’s face was one of stunned surprise when she watched him scrub each pot and pan. She didn’t allow him to finish the chores alone, instead she dried each clean dish until the even the utensils were put away. As she walked him to the door at the end of the evening, his palms sweated slightly and he rubbed the sweat away covertly when he pushed his hands into the back pockets of his button fly jeans. The denim dried the sweat off of his fingers, but the digits still tingled slightly despite their less moistened state. Before he stepped through the threshold to the outdoors he mustered up a smidgeon of courage deep down.
“Good night Benjamin.” She smiled, the crooked grin he’d learned to associate with her, and the tilt of lips gave him a boost his ego sorely needed. Enough that he didn’t question the impulse he’d squelched before.
Before the borrowed courage could flee, he grabbed each of her hands and pulled her close. Not to the point that they touched, but close enough that they shared body heat and he gave her a moment. The only seconds she would get to decide if she was comfortable enough for his intentions. There were no complaints or protests and he took her silence as consent. His mouth lowered to hers and nature took its course from there. When their lips met, he felt her breathing hitch and the softness of her skin. She tasted like their recently eaten meal and he enjoyed the fact that he was able to taste delicious seconds from her sweet oral orifice.
Amelia kissed as if she were starved for the contact of skin-on-skin just the same as he was. She was delightful, not a surprise to him, but even with the knowledge of their chemistry she took him aback.
He didn’t take a breath of air until his mouth reluctantly pulled away from hers and even then he was starved for precious oxygen when he drove away. He watched in his rearview mirror as he turned right onto Austin road, and didn’t pull away until she shut her front door.
Chapter Three: It’s Not You, It’s Me
Amelia was dumbstruck. It had been so many years since she had been kissed that she forgot what it truly felt like to have someone want that intimacy with her. He was a fabulous kisser. There was just enough tongue, the perfect mix of saliva and a mere hint of teeth. If the lip lock had gone on much longer, she would have had a reason to take a shower when he left. As is she would be taking one, if only to finish what he started.
She felt a familiar throb between her thighs and for the first time in years, she was aroused by another man. And not the one that left her behind. She felt free, as if she were just a regular woman who had enjoyed the attentions of a normal red-blooded male. That night she touched herself, but instead of her own fingers plucking the nipples, they were his. Instead of
her palm pressed over her mound, it was his larger one.
The evening was spent on her belly in bed with her laptop and more fodder for her next book.
It had been awhile since she had a fantasy for herself and she felt a new development for her hero take shape for her latest book. It came to the point that her mind flew faster than her fingers could and when dawn rose, she was sitting by the fireplace on the floor with a dead battery in her electric notebook. She leaned her head back against the wall and fell asleep.
The next day found her with a Charlie horse and cramps in several other places. There was going to be a hot tub installed in back yard, but that wasn’t for a while. Amelia would have to make due with a hot shower and one of her prescribed pain meds today.
She felt as if she were on cloud nine, there was no other way for her to say it. The memory of Ben’s kiss the night before still made her heart beat faster and lips tingle. It wasn’t until she divested herself of the robe to climb into the tub that she looked over at the huge gilt framed mirror. The sight of the mottled skin over her right side made her sick.
What man would want to look at that in bed?
What woman would be crazy enough to show it to someone else?
The skin wasn’t as bad as it was initially, time had mellowed the still ugly skin, but the patchwork coloration was something that she had looked at for so long that she was almost able to tune it out. Amelia ran her fingers over her neck, felt the ridges of healed flesh. The skin was smooth to the touch, but the places where the grafted skin ended felt calloused slightly and rough. The right arm and shoulder were just as bad. She had a large patch on her chest, just above her heart. Her face took less damage in the attack, due to her natural reaction to toss her arm upright. But the skin on her brow and cheek were still affected to a lesser degree.
She looked like a monster. She even felt like one most days, and she would do well not to forget it. Especially for him. Benjamin deserved to have a woman that was just as good as he was, a woman who was whole and healthy. Not a freak show, a woman who was afraid to leave her own four walls and smell the roses.
Amelia shrugged off the despair that her own visage had inspired and she let the water run into the huge claw-foot bath along with a generous portion of bubbles. When she took off the light bra and panty set, she looked at the ugliest part of the damage on her right breast. She shouldn’t complain really, as she was lucky that she didn’t have to lose the shape entirely. But if she ever had a child, there was no way she could breast feed on that side. The burns had fried her areola and the entire side of her rib cage. The nipple was non-existent, the flesh a mere nubbin when compared to the left one, a full blackberry-capped crest atop a freckled mound.
The end result was that the left breast was a half size bigger after the reconstruction was done. But she didn’t want to have any additional procedures unless it was absolutely necessary. The pain of recovery was not worth the result in her opinion. But she wasn’t ever going to be able to have a child, not unless the Lord opted for a second immaculate conception.
Amelia was in the process of scrubbing the tub when she heard the phone ring. She darted through the house as she cursed the fact that the only house line was in the kitchen. When she picked it up, she was breathless.
“Hello.”
“Hey.” It was him.
“How… are you?” She asked, because she had no idea what she should even say. It had been awhile since she had a conversation over the phone just because, instead of conducting business or making appointments, etcetera.
“I’m great, Amelia. How are you?” He asked as if he truly wanted to know.
The fact that he sounded as if he cared was the only reason that she could give for her response. “I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know Ben.”
“Yes, you do. You may not want to tell me why, but you do know what makes you afraid.”
“I didn’t say afraid, I said nervous. There is a clear difference.”
“Ah, but is there Amelia?”
“Yes. Being afraid is feeling fear about something. Nervousness is an apprehension one feels.”
“True, but nervousness is the fear of the unknown, of what will happen.”
There wasn’t much she could say to that, he was correct.
She was afraid. But as to whether she could admit it or not? Just as Ben had said to her before, that was a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.
So what? She was just like millions of others, afraid of rejection. It just so happened that she proactively did the rejecting first. That saved her a mountain of nerves, emotions and time.
“They say silence is golden, but I think yours may be worth more than that.”
“Benjamin, what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t recall being asked anything.”
“Wasn’t that what we were just talking about? But if you need a reminder, I asked why you were nervous, Amelia.”
“I-I… don’t know.”
“Keep telling yourself that then. But as to the reason that I’m calling you…” She waited with bated breath for that very information. Although now he was the silent one.
“What?” She asked and immediately shut her mouth. It didn’t matter. Did it?
Of course not.
“Well, I thought that if you were of a mind to…” he was once again silent and now she was more than curious, she was dying to know.
“Okay, now you’re just doing that to get on my nerves.”
“What is that, pray tell?” She laughed when she heard the last part of his sentence. “I know, I know, I read too much Ambrose Jenner. Somehow the Detective makes it sound suave. I just have to figure out how to use it right. Although, you’d think after three years of reading the books I’d get the hang of it.” He chuckled and she wondered what he would think if he knew that she was the author that he liked to read so much. The Investigations of Merlot Row series was extremely popular with readers across the nation and had started to take off on foreign soil as well.
But that was something that she never planned to announce to a living soul. Not even her agent had seen her face, not a headshot, nor in person, and that was the way she liked it.
“You are egregious! But yes, I can tell you like Ambrose Jenner, and he is one of my favorite authors too.”
“Don’t get me distracted woman, I called for an actual reason and I mean to talk to you. But we can certainly get back to that later.”
“Fine then, what is it?” Amelia heard the exasperated tone to her voice and she mentally chastised herself.
“Don’t get in a huff, Ms. Barnett. I just wanted to see if you would allow me the opportunity to repay the hospitality of the other night.”
“Ho-oww exactly?” The words were a stammer, and she was frustrated with herself for the faux pas in speech.
“Well, I coach little league baseball and I would love for you to sit in the stands and cheer me on tonight.”
“Tonight?” This time her voice was a squeak and tinny to the ear, a further cause for shame.
“Well, seeing as I have a game at seven fifteen tonight, yes… tonight.”
“Maybe next time?”
“Well, that’s a problem. Either, A, we win and go to the State game, or B, we lose and stay home for what’s left of the season. So if you don’t come tonight, I may never have the chance to show off my prowess in the only way these old bones can. I can’t run anymore, but I sure can yell with the best of them.”
Amelia laughed before she could stop herself. “Can I at least think about it?”
“Well seeing as all I’ve got is time, sure.” Ben chuckled and Amelia was reminded of the warmth of roaring fires in winter.
“Don’t you have work to do at the store?”
“Yes, but I took the afternoon off anyway.”
“And left Johnny in charge?” Usually Ben had to fix half of wh
at the boy did during his shift.
“Sure did.”
“You’ll be lucky if he locks the doors at closing.”
“That’s okay. Most folks here tend not to steal. More than likely I’d be left with an IOU written on yesterday’s news paper.”
“No way.”
“Believe it, missy, this side of the city doesn’t see much crime.”
“There’s had to be at least one terrible crime to happen here.”
“Well,” he paused, “there are a group of teens that grow pot in fallow fields. The sheriff usually sets the crop on fire and keeps moving.”
“So, if—” she took a deep breath and held it for a split second before releasing the air in lengthy exhale, “and I mean if, I go to the game, how is this supposed to work exactly?”
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