by Aimée Thurlo
“Have you considered going to the hospital and getting yourself checked out?”
“No need. I’m a medic now, I know what symptoms and problems to look for. Tonight was more like full-contact football practice, without the gear. Trust me.”
She’d walk him home anyway. She wasn’t sure how much of what he was saying was “man talk” or reality.
“Get cleaned up,” she said. “I’m sticking around until I’m sure you’re okay.”
“Sounds thoughtful. Are you going to tend my wounds?”
“You wish. For now, just take a shower. You smell … ripe.”
He burst out laughing. “Ow. That hurt,” he said, grimacing as he touched the side of his face. “But thanks for the laugh.”
“What the hell’s so funny?”
“You haven’t changed a bit. Like with this morning and my aftershave, you could always pick up a scent all the way across the room.”
“This morning you smelled great, but fistfight perfume isn’t my idea of a turn-on.”
“Speaking of turn-ons, what does get you excited these days?” Ben placed the empty beer bottle he’d been carrying atop the fence post, produced a set of keys, and let them through the gate, which was now equipped with a new lock and chain.
“You’re supposed to be injured. Act the part or I’m leaving,” she snapped as they passed through.
“Hey, I’m hurt,” he said, reaching back to retrieve the bottle. “Why don’t you come inside with me and undress my wounds?”
“Are you kidding? You look like day-old roadkill,” she said, trying to undermine his weak attempts at flirting.
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he said with a sigh.
As they entered the house, she realized just how much of Tom’s old furnishings had been removed earlier. The sparse, utilitarian interior reflected more of Ben’s personality, though it was a work in progress. His mother’s salt and pepper collection was still in place, but Tom’s Western memorabilia were all gone. The old Western-style sofa with the wagon wheel pattern had been replaced by a brown leather contemporary love seat and chair with a matching hassock.
Feeling much more comfortable with the new look, she took a seat as Ben stepped over to the kitchen and dropped the bottle in the trash.
“One last chance. Wanna go green and save water?”
“Either you bathe now, by yourself, or step outside so I can spray you down with the garden hose. You clearly need a cold shower.”
“It’s a hot summer evening, and two former almost-lovers are together again after so many years. Yet all you can think about is soap and water. You’re not much for romance, are you?”
She ignored him, and soon he disappeared from view. Once she heard him turn on the shower, she finally dropped her guard and sighed. Even scuffed up and bloodied, there was something about Ben that made her a little crazy inside. It wasn’t just his looks, particularly in this case. What really drew her were his confidence and that unholy aura of danger that encircled him.
Whenever she was with him, emotions she thought she’d conquered ages ago came to life inside her. He made her long to be loved, to be protected and cared for. But the stability she yearned for and needed just wasn’t Ben’s to give. He was unconquerable, a man whose spirit demanded nothing less of him.
Restless, she turned on the TV. After a while, Jo saw a reflection flicker in the TV screen and turned her head. Ben stood in the doorway barefooted, wearing low-slung jeans and an open shirt that fell loosely around his shoulders.
She didn’t want to feel anything. He was trouble of the worst kind. Yet the scent of soap mingled with aftershave teased her senses. He smiled slowly at her, and her heartbeat quickened.
She forced herself to look at his bruises, not the tight muscles that defined his chest, and tried to see him only as a man who still needed to prove himself with his fists.
Illusion and testosterone. That was all Ben was, and could be to her. She deserved more than that. It was time for her to go.
SIXTEEN
Seeing the flicker of desire in Jo’s eyes, Ben narrowed the gap between them. He’d waited a long time for this day, and he had no intention of wasting even one more precious moment.
“Now that I know you’re going to be okay, I’ve got to leave,” Jo said quickly, a hitch in her breath.
He stood in front of her a moment longer. He was man enough to know when a woman wanted him, and her words didn’t match what her body was telling him.
She hesitated, then lowered her gaze and stared at the bruises that were starting to form around his ribs, and the three-inch scar an enemy sniper’s bullet had left as it grazed his right arm. “I can’t stay,” she said again.
“So you still bail when you see something you can’t handle, or that upsets you,” he whispered. “Scars and bruises are part of a soldier’s world, darling.”
“I’ll give you the scars, but barroom brawling … maybe that’s something you’ll never outgrow,” she said.
He opened the door for her, and Jo hurried out without looking back.
Ben remained where he was, watching her as she got into her pickup and drove out of the graveled parking lot. She’d made up her mind about him, and wasn’t even willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t worth his time. She could go straight to hell, for all he cared.
He kicked the door shut and cursed. The problem was he did care. He’d wanted to make love to her tonight more than he’d wanted anything in a very long time.
He’d taken one punch too many, that’s all there was to it. Tired and sore, he lay down on the couch. Even with the TV going, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Jo stayed busy the next day. She’d accepted Ethan Sayers offer of credit and placed an additional order. Livestock supplies were a large part of their daily sales, even now. She’d also redone the sign up front with Leigh Ann’s help, made room in the attached loafing shed for more alfalfa hay, then helped restock grocery shelves.
“You’ve got lots of energy today,” Leigh Ann said, offering a soft drink when they finally took a break midafternoon.
“I need to stay busy. Otherwise, I’ll overthink things.”
Leigh Ann smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got Ben Stuart on your mind.”
“Yeah, but not in a good way.”
She laughed. “The bad ways are always a lot more fun to think about.”
Jo glared at Leigh Ann, then suddenly laughed. “Okay, you’ve got a point, just don’t let him hear you say that.”
Leigh Ann glanced around. “Where is Ben, anyway?”
Del came into the room and, having heard the question, answered. “Ben’s outside. A buddy of his just drove up.”
“Keep an eye on him. We don’t need a fight in the parking lot,” Jo said.
“So you heard about that throw-down last night at the Palomino lounge? I guess Ben really lost it,” Del said. “He was stone-cold sober, too, good thing for the other guy.”
“You were there?” Jo asked, surprised.
“No, but my uncle was, and I heard the story after school let out. Apparently, Roger Ferrell decided to give Ben a hard time—shooting his mouth off, trash-talking—like that. Ben tried to walk away, but Ferrell kept pushing. Then when he said that about—” He turned beet red and looked away.
“Go on. It’s okay,” Jo said.
“Just … trash … about you, and Tom, and Ben, too. Sex stuff. Ben flew off the handle and dropped Ferrell right there on the hardwood floor. It took two men to pull Ben offa him.”
Jo knew Ferrell from her high school days. The man was a classic bully, always pushing people into a corner, itching for a fight. She didn’t need a great imagination to figure out what he must have said.
“I hope Ben knocked his teeth out the back of his head,” Leigh Ann said.
“He’s still got a few,” Ben said, coming in from the back.
Feeling guilty, Jo found it difficult to look at Ben. She shouldn’t hav
e been so quick to judge him last night. She needed to apologize and right now, but she wasn’t sure what to say.
“If I’d have been there, I would have kicked him where it hurts,” she said at last.
Leigh Ann looked at Del; then they both hurried out of the break room.
“Is that your way of saying you’re sorry?” he asked with a quick half grin.
She nodded. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I overreacted. Apology accepted?”
“Yeah, we’re cool, but you were right, we should talk. We’ll be working together the next couple of weeks until I have to leave, then again in about a year when my hitch is up. We really need to get to know each other—not who we were back in high school, but who we are now.”
“Let’s set aside some time and do just that.”
“So come over to my house tonight. I’ll fix something for dinner.”
“Not a date, though—a working dinner between partners?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“After work, then.”
Jo watched Ben walk away. He had “it,” however you defined the term. He was built to perfection. His butt alone could have jump-started a failing heart.
With a soft sigh, she returned to the floor, and took over for Regina at the front register.
* * *
The afternoon went quickly, and after the drive-time rush between four and five thirty, she coasted to the seven o’clock closing. It was finally time to call it a day.
“I’m ready,” she said, finding Ben by the back door.
“I can see now why Dad left you the place,” he said as they headed across the parking lot and down the driveway to his house. “You love The Outpost as much as he did. You put in long hours and never give it a second thought. To me, working here was just a way to bridge the gap with my father—if I got lucky. Now that he’s not here, it’s a whole new ball game.”
“Do you think you’ll ever see The Outpost the same way he did?”
“No, this was his dream, not mine. When I’m finally out of the army and return here, the trading post will be part of my life, but not its center. I have other plans, too.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve got some medical training, and I’d like to put that to good use by becoming an EMT,” he said as they walked to his front door. “I also plan to write a book about my experiences as a soldier. It’ll be my way of coming to terms with everything I was … and became. It won’t be a story about how many times a man can fall down. It’ll be about getting back up and not letting the past cloud up your future.”
The Ben she’d known back then hadn’t believed in planning for more than today. This was another side of him she’d never seen. “Knowing where you’re going will make it easier to get there.”
“Yeah, but my plans aren’t set in concrete. I’ve also learned to adapt as I go.”
“And that’s how you walk in beauty,” she said, waiting as he unlocked his front door.
“So, should we do this the Anglo way or the Navajo way?” he asked.
“I don’t understand.”
“You told me once that according to tradition, Navajo men lead the way into a room in case there’s danger waiting. The Anglo way, where a guy steps aside and lets the woman enter first, made no sense to you.”
“You remember that, do you?” she said, smiling.
“There are things one never forgets,” Ben said, going inside first. He turned on the light, then glanced back at her. “Latch the screen, but leave the door open, will you? There’s a nice breeze, and I hate to waste it.”
As she followed Ben into the living room, she suddenly remembered how he’d looked after his shower, shirt open, handsome enough to make her fingers tingle with the need to touch him.
Wanting something to do that would get her mind off him, she asked, “How can I help with dinner?”
They went into the kitchen, and at his suggestion, she began to chop freshly roasted and peeled green chilies. They worked in silence for a while and finally he spoke.
“I’m on your side, Jo.”
“I know, and I really am sorry that I jumped to conclusions last night.”
As he placed the casserole composed of ground beef, green chili, potatoes, and cheese into the oven, Jo studied the photo of Ben and his father that hung on the wall. Ben had probably been fourteen at the time. “Your father was so terrific, the kind of dad I wished I had. Even way back in high school, I could always count on him looking out for me.”
“I know, and sometimes that really bugged me, because Dad and I never agreed on anything. He was always on my case about something. Now I know he was just doing his best, but we were both too stubborn.” He sat beside her on the sofa and stretched his legs out, resting them on the hassock. “I’d like to think we would have turned things around if he hadn’t run out of time.”
“I don’t think you realize just how much your dad loved you and how proud he was of who you’d become.”
“You sound so sure,” he said in a weary voice.
“I am sure.” She’d wanted him to find the articles on his own, but leaving it up to chance seemed wrong to her now. “Did you know he collected clippings from the Fort Riley area newspapers that mentioned you?” she asked, and told him what she’d found.
“I had no idea,” he said.
“They’re still there in the safe. No matter what you might have thought, your dad always kept track of you.”
“Good thing he never saw all of the mistakes I made along the way. My past in the military is far from spotless.”
“Maybe so, but you had some pretty spectacular moments. The headline on one of the clippings I read said you were given a medal for bravery. There was also a more recent one about a car accident. Tom never gave us the details, but I remember when he went to see you.”
Ben stared across the room. “That happened after my first deployment. I came back to the States really screwed up. Dad drove to Kansas to visit me at the hospital, and seeing him helped me get back on the right track. What else did you read in the clippings?”
“I skimmed the opening paragraphs, that’s all. I wanted to know more, but I felt like I was prying. You’d made it clear to me before that you didn’t feel comfortable sharing some of your army experiences.”
“I’ve managed to bury some of those memories, and that’s where they need to stay.”
“Is that one of the reasons you don’t drink? I heard you had nothing but Cokes the other night. And that bottle you picked up was empty.”
Ben took a slow, deep breath. He’d forgotten how fast word traveled in this mostly rural community. “Things are seldom that black-and-white, but as I said, some doors have to stay closed.”
“Closed doors can isolate you,” she said.
“Are you speaking from experience?”
Jo thought back to the days when her father had struggled with his own demons. For years she’d resented him bitterly. Then, as she’d nursed him during the last few months of his life, she finally learned to come to terms with her feelings. The process had taken her down a long, lonely path, but at the end of that road, she found peace. Her only regret was that her father had never been able to let go of his anger and walk in beauty with her.
“We all have our secrets,” he said after a few minutes of silence went by. “Maybe someday we’ll trust each other enough to open up.”
“I like the man you’ve become—the bits and pieces I’ve seen,” she answered. “But you’re right, trust is hard to give—and accept.”
“I hear you.”
There were four electronic beeps as the oven timer went off. “Let’s eat,” Ben said.
* * *
After dinner, she helped him clean up the kitchen, then they went back into the living room. He walked with her to one of the bookcases and showed her a photo he kept on the shelf there.
“The other day when I was packing up some old books, a pho
to fell out of one of my high school yearbooks. Remember this night?” he asked.
She looked at the snapshot. They were together beneath a loafing shed in front of some livestock pens. Ben was smiling but she looked somber and miserable.
She sighed. “Sure do. That fluffy churro lamb was one I’d raised for the fair, my 4-H project, but when the time came to sell it, I wasn’t ready to let go. The bidding began, I realized I was going to lose Cloud forever, and I couldn’t stop crying.”
“You wiped away your tears each time they appeared, but I could see that it was killing you to say good-bye. So I gave Danny’s dad all the money I had and told him to bid on it for me.”
She smiled. “You didn’t tell me what you’d done until later. When the auction was over and your dad snapped that picture, I thought I was going to be sick.”
“Dad got pissed off at me afterwards when he found out what I’d done. He believed that letting go of the animal was part of the lesson you’d needed to learn, since you might have been raising animals for food someday. You weren’t supposed to personalize livestock like that, but I couldn’t stand seeing you unhappy.”
She smiled. “Later that night, you took me to the old barn and there she was.”
“You started crying all over again,” he said.
“I was so happy to see her alive! That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me,” she said.
“I wasn’t a total screwup, was I?”
She laughed. No risk, not even his dad’s anger, could have deterred the Ben she’d known back then from doing something he’d set his mind on. Judging from the newspaper clippings, he was still like that, only the stakes were higher.
“Cloud had several lambs and my mom and I used her wool for weaving. My father didn’t believe in pets that didn’t serve a function, but Cloud was perfect, even by his definition.”
“I remember something else,” Ben said, looking back at the photo. “That night was the first time you and I kissed.”
“I was saying thank you in a way any sixteen-year-old boy would appreciate,” she teased.
“There was a full moon overhead,” he said, pointing out the window, “just like tonight.”
