Stan's eyes followed Lou's arm. "We do? I don't see no spider webs up there."
"Well I sure as shoot do, Stan. Let's go out to the garage and get the big ladder and get them taken care of."
Stan wasn't getting Lou's hints. "But I wanna see Ben here off, Lou. Don't you?"
"Stan," Lou said, her voice firm. "You ought not argue with me now, ya hear? Now come on, let's go." She walked toward the kitchen and Stan, saying a quick goodbye to Ben, followed her like a puppy.
"So you might have to leave?" Ben asked.
"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "It just came up. I stopped by your room to tell you, but you weren't there. You must have been bringing your bags down or something." I was surprised that I felt so hurt.
He must have sensed my hurt and closed the space between us, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I want to see you again," he whispered. "I'd love for you to be here when I get back, but if you can't, I understand. But I don't want this to be goodbye, Carly, please. So may I call you?" His eyes locked with mine, and the seriousness in them overwhelmed me.
I realized he didn't have my number, or, come to think of it, even my last name. And I didn't even know his last name. How could our time together mean anything if we didn't know such a basic but important thing about each other? Maybe it was best to just walk away.
"I don't know, Ben. Maybe it's best if we just cut things off now. You know, this isn't real life or anything and we're both really busy with our careers and stuff, so…"
He grabbed his chin again. "So you don't want to see me again? Is that it? Wow." He placed his hands on his waist and nodded. "Honestly, that's a little surprising to me. I thought we had made a connection." He leaned his forehead onto mine. "We did, Carly. We made a connection, and I know you feel it, too."
Before I knew what I was saying I blurted out, "Maybe it was just the right connection but only for a short time."
What was wrong with me? Why was I saying such insane crap? I didn't feel that way, and I'm pretty sure he knew it too. Did I subconsciously want to screw things up with Ben? Was I not ready to move on from Matthew after all? Was I scared? Was I stupid?
Yes, that was it. I was stupid, and I promised myself I'd stop. "No Ben, you're right. We did have a connection. We do have a connection." I touched his chest with my hands and felt his heart racing. "I'm sorry. I guess I was a little shocked to see your suitcase and hear that you're leaving. I don't know why I'm being such a jerk." I dipped my head into his chest in shame.
He lifted my chin with a finger. "You're not being a jerk. I should have explained and I didn't. I knew I might get this call, but I hoped I wouldn't. I guess I thought if I didn't think it would come, it wouldn't, and I could stay here with you." He tipped his forehead into mine again, and brushed my mouth with his, sending sizzling currents up and down my spine. "I do not want you to leave. Please don't leave. Promise me you'll be here when I get back. I want more time with you—just you, without the pressures of the real world interfering. Promise me you'll be here, Carly."
I kissed him. "I promise."
He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the ground, spinning me around in a circle and kissing me again. "Great. That's great! I'll be back tomorrow, no later than five o'clock. I've asked Lou to make a picnic basket for us. I thought we could find a quiet spot to eat so I could play you my song, the one I wrote about you. I've finished it."
"I'm even makin' his favorite dessert," Lou said, walking back into the room, Stan following behind her with the ladder in tow.
He hugged her. "Thanks, Lou," he said and then shook Stan's hand. "You've really got a keeper here, you know, Stan?"
Stan pointed to me. "Looks like I ain't the only one, boy."
Ben smiled at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite identify, something intense and honest. "I think you're right, Stan. I think you're right."
Just then a horn beeped and Ben said, "That's my ride." He grabbed my hand. "Walk out with me?"
"Sure." As we left, I heard Lou tell Stan what a cute couple we made.
"Promise me you'll be here?" he asked, squeezing my hand.
"I promise," I said, squeezing his hand back.
The driver took his suitcase and placed it in the trunk. "Would you like the guitar in the car with you, Mr. Reynolds?" the driver asked.
Ben's last name was Reynolds. I made a mental note to Google him later.
"Yes please, John. And do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"
The driver pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket and handed it to Ben.
Ben scribbled something onto the paper and handed it to me. "Here's my cell. If you have to leave, or just want to talk, call me. Okay?"
I nodded, as tears formed in my eyes, making me feel silly. He wiped one away and grinned slyly. "Wow, you must really dig me, huh?"
I smacked his shoulder. "Not after that comment, I don't," I said, giggling. "Now go. I've got to get ready for the next hot musician to check in."
"Lou would never let that happen, you know," he said. "She's got my back."
"I don't doubt that one bit," I said.
"So," he asked, getting shy all of a sudden, "can I have your number, too?" He dipped his head and then lifted his eyes to me, looking innocent and sexy at the same time.
I kissed him quickly and then took the paper, writing down my cell. "Here, now go, and hurry back."
"Yes, ma'am."
I watched the car drive away, surprised by the ache of loneliness suddenly in my heart.
That night I sat in the great room of the big old house, admiring the southern decor, drinking sweet tea and talking to Lou. The tables were covered in white doilies like the ones my grandmother used to have, and I wondered if, when I lifted one, an imprint of dust would remain.
My mind was distracted by Ben's comments to Lou and Stan before he knew I was listening. What was it he hadn't told me? What was Ben hiding from me? Was it something bad, something that would change my opinion of him, my feelings for him? I didn't know what that could possibly be and I wanted to ask Lou, but didn't want to put her on the spot. It was unbelievably hard not to ask though, unbelievably hard.
While I thought about Ben's secret, Lou told me stories of the house's history, how she and Stan fell in love, and she promised to give me her sweet tea recipe before I left—as long as I didn't tell anyone where I got it. She didn't want her ancestors coming back to haunt her for giving away their secret family recipes.
"I promise I won't," I said. "In fact, I'll take full credit for creating it myself, if you'd like."
Lou chuckled, and then her tone turned serious. "I was best friends with Ben's momma growin' up, did he tell you that? We were thick as thieves 'til the day she died."
My fingers grazed my throat. "He didn't tell me that, no. He did say that he spent a lot of time here growing up, but I didn't know you were close to his mom. It must have been hard, losing her."
She stared at a painting above the stone fireplace. It was of two young girls swinging on tires from a tree in front of an old barn. "That's us, when we were about eight," she said, pointing to it. "I'm the one on the right. You can tell that's Ben's momma. She was cute as a bug's ear at that age, just like her baby was too." She sipped her tea. "Still is now, if you ask me."
"He definitely is," I said.
"He's really takin' a likin' to you too, Carly. And he don't want me sayin' nothin' but Ben's kin to me and I don't want him gettin' his heart broke. It's hard for him, havin' a relationship, what with being all famous and such. Most girls aren't interested in him for nothin' but his celebrity, so he don't date much these days." She stood and walked over to the painting. "Now don't you go breakin' his heart, you hear?"
Famous? Celebrity? What was she talking about? Ben wasn't famous, was he?
"A celebrity? What do you mean?" I asked.
She walked back over to me and patted my shoulder. "Oh, honey. You ain't figured it out yet, have you? Lawdy be, I should learn
to keep my mouth shut, but I just figured you knew after spendin' time with him. If Stan's warned me about this once, he's warned me a hun'rd times, but there I went, openin' my big mouth again."
I straightened in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. I thought back to the first time I heard Ben sing and the familiarity of his voice. I thought I'd recognized it, but I couldn't quite place it, so I just wrote it off to my wonky brain. I thought about his reasons for coming to the Inn to write. He said he wanted to get away. He said he'd performed before, but gave me the impression it was something minor, just like he said the groupies were no big deal. Just a few hours earlier he'd left to meet with his manager via a limo driver. What starving artist could afford a limo driver, or a manager for that matter? So just who was Ben? I ran through the names of all of the famous singers I could think of, and none of them were named Ben.
"I don't understand. I can't think of any famous singer named Ben," I said to Lou.
Lou's mouth curled upward and her blue eyes sparkled. "Don't you listen to the radio?" She waved her hand. "Never you mind. I got somethin' to show you." She walked over to an old oak cabinet pushed up against the wall next to the fireplace, and pulled open the top drawer. "This here'll help." She pulled out a CD and handed it to me.
I nearly dropped the CD when I saw the picture of someone who looked an awful lot like Ben, and read the name above it. "Bret Bennett? Ben is Bret Bennett?" I jumped out of my seat. "I knew his voice sounded familiar!"
Lou's smile grew, and she nodded. "That's our Ben all right."
Bret Bennett was a well-known, incredibly popular singer. He'd had at least two songs at the top of the charts consistently for the past few years. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but one of his current songs had been played so often I'd started changing the channel when it played. Bret Bennett was a sultry, bluesy singer with a hint of pop to his music. He sang about love and loss, and not surprising to me anymore, growing up with just a mother. Bret Bennett had short, dark brown hair that he worn in a high and tight style, and dressed in Ralph Lauren and all of the latest expensive designer clothes. Bret Bennett was hot and every girl wanted their chance with him—from teenagers to stay-at-home moms, and including my best friends.
Ben had longer, shaggy blond hair, dressed in t-shirts and ripped jeans, a casual and carefree style. Ben was sexy and sweet in his own right, but there was an innocence and shyness to him that made it impossible to believe the two were one. "That's not Ben," I said, shaking my head in stiff, rapid movements. But I knew it was. I could tell by the eyes, their slight angle up on the sides, and the speckles of dark blue in the lighter blue iris. I could tell by the way his lips curled up in his smile, and by the shape of his front teeth, especially because one stuck out just a tiny bit more than the other. I knew Bret was Ben, and picturing Ben while staring at Bret made it clear as day. "Oh my God."
Lou's smile grew ever bigger, if that was at all possible, and she chuckled. "Yup, it's him all right. Our little Ben is a famous singer, just like his momma always said he would be."
My friends moaned when they heard him on the radio. I did too, especially when I'd hear his hit from last year, "The Love in My Heart"—a song about losing his mother, and how his heart was filled with the love she'd given him when she was alive. I teared up just thinking of the song, especially knowing what I knew from my time with him.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead I made a grunting sound or two, and just stared wide-eyed at the CD case while Lou laughed some more. And then it hit me. "Now every time it rains I feel like she's showering me with kisses. That's why that was familiar to me. It's the song."
"That's the song he wrote about his mother," she said.
"I know that song. It's a great song."
"When he gets back, you gotta act like I didn't tell you, ya hear?" she asked. "I don't want him gettin' mad at me for giving away his secret. Like I said, he's really taken with you, so he'll tell you in his own time, his own way."
"But…but why Bret Bennett? Why the different name and the different look?"
"Ben said he didn't want people knowin' about his personal life. He didn't want anyone bothering his mother when she was alive, either. He always intended to come out of hiding, but said he likes his privacy, and just never has."
It was a lot to take in. "I…I…I don't know what to say."
"Just tell me that his bein' famous doesn't change the way you feel about him. Don't be actin' like those girls who just want to be famous too or want his money. Promise you'll be yourself, because that's who Ben's fallin' in love with and I don't want him gettin' hurt again."
Falling in love with me? Lou thought Ben was falling in love with me?
"I don't think he's falling in love with me, Lou."
"Oh child, you're pretty as a speckled pup, but if you can't see how he feels then you're dumber than a stump, too. That boy's fallin', and he's fallin' hard. Why I might oughta have to dig him up with a shovel, he's so far gone already. I've known this boy since he was a peanut in his momma's belly. I know what I'm talkin' about. Just watch his eyes when he's lookin' at ya. They get all misty and weepy. That there's love if I ever saw it."
I dropped back into the chair, feeling almost weak in the knees, and definitely lightheaded. "Bret Bennett is falling in love with me? Holy crap."
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about here, Carly. Ben Reynolds is fallin' in love with ya, but Bret Bennett? He ain't real."
I rubbed my arms. "I know that he's not real Lou, but he's part of who Ben is and that could be a game changer on so many levels." My chest tightened and I tried to pull in more air but I couldn't get enough. I tried again but still nothing. I clutched my chest and Lou rushed over, bending down in front of me.
"Oh lawd, you're havin' one of them panic attacks, ain't you, sweetie?" She felt my head. "Stan!" she yelled. "Stan, get me a cloth soaked in cold water, you hear? And hurry up. Carly here's havin' an attack."
My breathing steadied and I gently pushed her hand from my head. "I'm okay, really. Just a little freaked out, but I'll be fine." I grabbed my glass of iced tea and guzzled the last bit. "Would you mind getting me some water?" I asked Lou.
Just then Stan rushed in with an old brown rag, dripping with water. "This's all I could find." His breath was heavy and fast. "Is she okay?"
Lou took the rag and threw it to the ground. "Stan Brinker, you did not just soak an old grease rag and think I would use it on this sweet girl's face now did you?" She shook her head and turned to me. "Men, sometimes they ain't got the good sense God gave a goose. He's lucky he's so handsome."
"I am handsome and you are lucky." He puffed out his chest. "'Course I'm lucky too."
Lou giggled and tossed the rag at her husband. "We're both pretty lucky." When she turned to me, her smiled shifted down. "Are you okay, Carly?"
"I'm fine."
Lou got up and refilled my iced tea. "Here, drink this, you'll feel better. I ain't never seen no one panic like that from a celebrity, but I hear it's happened."
"You told her, didn't you?" Stan said.
"Well she's gotta right to know," Lou snipped. "Can't expect her to fall for the boy without knowin' the truth now, can we?"
Stan shook his head. "Our boy ain't gonna be happy, Lou." He patted my head. "Don't you worry, Carly. Ben's a good southern boy. He'll treat you like a lady. His celebrity ain't gonna change him. Hasn't yet, and I don't see it happenin' either."
"Thanks, Stan," I said, not knowing what else to say. "I'm really tired now, actually. I think I'm going to head on up to my room for the night." I stood and hugged Lou. "Don't worry, I won't tell Ben I know." I hugged Stan too. "And you'd better keep the secret too, or I think Lou will come at you with a shotgun." I smiled, and hugged him a little tighter. "You hear?"
"Yes, ma'am. My Lou's a good shot, too."
We all laughed.
"I'll see you for breakfast in the morning," I said, and went to my room.
; ***
I closed my door and flung myself on the bed. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." I stopped the chant and focused on calming myself so I didn't end up on the verge of another panic attack. "Ben is Bret Bennett. Bret Bennett is Ben. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." Guess I didn't calm myself after all. "Ben is Bret. I'm dating Bret Bennett. I can't believe it."
I sat up and practically jumped off the bed, over to the dresser, where I'd thrown my phone when I arrived. It had been off since then, but I powered it on to text my best friend. When it turned on, a text came beeping in. The number wasn't familiar, so I grabbed the paper with Ben's number on it and compared the two. It was from him.
"Can't believe I had to leave you like that," he said. "Can't wait to see you tomorrow."
My hands shook and the phone dropped to the floor. "Shit," I said, picking it up and immediately checking for damage. Relieved there wasn't any, I held the phone tight and sat in the pink stuffed chair staring at his text, reading it over and over. "Can't believe I had to leave you like that. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."
Ben, otherwise known as Bret-with-the-super-sexy-voice-and-big-time-famous-singing-career-Bennett, wrote that text.
Holy crap.
I wasn't sure what to text back, afraid I'd slip and say Bret instead of Ben or something stupid that would make me sound like a groupie. I typed out a text to my best friend, but hit cancel, realizing telling anyone would just cause my phone to blow up and then the news would be all over Twitter and Facebook in seconds. Heck, it'd probably end up in the Atlanta papers, and I couldn't do that to Ben. I imagined what the headline would say:
Local nobody hooks up with famous local Bret Bennett
and flips the heck out about it, too.
I needed to keep my lips zipped and my fingers off the keyboard, at least to anyone other than Ben. Still unsure of how to respond, I texted back, trying for cute, but fearful it came out as cocky instead. "You'll survive. Many men have waited a long time for me." Yeah, it was more cocky than cute, and I instantly regretted hitting send.
The Inn at Laurel Creek Page 5
