He texted back within seconds. "Well they're going to have to wait forever now, because I'm not planning on letting you get away from me."
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I needed to get a handle on the panic building in my stomach before it completely took over and I ended up in the hospital. "You should use that in a song. It's a great line," I responded.
Okay, that wasn't too bad, I told myself, and then focused again on my breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.
"What if it's not a line?" he texted. "What if that's how I'm feeling? Like I never want to let you go."
How was I supposed to respond to that? Awesome, dude didn't seem quite right, and neither did, Holy crap, you're Bret Freaking Bennett, I don't want you to ever let me go either! I was so screwed. I needed to figure out what Ben being Bret meant for us…for me, before things got any more hot and heavy than they already were. I didn't want to hurt Ben, but I honestly didn't know if I could handle being involved with someone so famous.
I imagined what it would be like going to the store with him. Did he even do his own grocery shopping? Did he have someone with him all of the time, like a bodyguard? Would I like the bodyguard? Was the bodyguard hot? Okay, that didn't matter. I reminded myself to stay focused. Ben being Bret was a game changer. Sure, I wanted to have a relationship with someone who was financially stable, had a decent job and wasn't a freeloader, and yes, Ben certainly met all of those criteria, but toss in the famous-hotter-than-hot-to-every-woman-alive stuff and I panicked all over again. Would I have to buy a baseball bat to beat women off of the side of the car, or to carry around when we were out in public? That wouldn't be fun, and I'd probably end up in jail and in a new committed relationship with a woman named Butch. That, I couldn't handle.
I slapped myself on the forehead. "Seriously, Carly. What's your problem? You didn't even know Ben was Bret until Lou told you. And she even said he's been living this way since his career started, and you've never once heard anything about Bret Bennett being someone else so why are you even thinking like this? It's stupid and illogical, stop it."
Self-talks weren't usually positive for me, but I had to agree with that Carly. No one seemed to know Bret Bennett was really Ben Reynolds, so why was I worried? And the Ben I'd met wasn't at all what I imagined a celebrity to be like, so maybe I had nothing to worry about. Besides, I was a mature, professional woman. I could totally handle anything that came my way. Totally. I didn't beat Matthew up when I met his girlfriend so soon after we'd parted ways, and for a moment or two, I'd really wanted to punch him in the groin, but I didn't, so I doubted I'd feel the need to beat up any groupies.
I Googled Bret Bennett on my phone and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that almost all of the links were about his music and not about him personally. I did read one article about how the singer didn't do interviews or make public appearances outside of his concerts because he was such a private person. He'd been quoted as saying early on in his career that he wanted to keep his personal life personal and he hoped the people that enjoyed his music would understand.
The man had class, that was obvious, and it just made me want him more. I knew then that no matter who he was, I was going to be with him because my feelings were too strong to walk away.
I scrolled back to the top and saw the advertised link, the one I never pay attention to at the top of the search results. It was a link to his website, with bold letters saying his national tour started in three weeks.
Three weeks? Ben was going to be touring the country in three weeks?
He texted me again. "Well?"
"Well what?" I responded.
"What if I never want to let you go?"
My heart was going to pound itself right out of my chest and onto my lap.
"Well, then I guess I'll have to get used to having you around," I texted back, my fingers shaking.
"That works for me," Ben wrote. "Got my meeting moved up to first thing in the morning so I should be back by about one o'clock. Get some rest because we'll have to make up for lost time."
My insides quivered. "Yes, sir," I wrote back. "See you tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it," he wrote.
I read his texts over and over, trying to convince myself I wasn't dreaming and they really were from him, from Ben, the sweet, sexy guy I'd met at the Inn, who was also Bret, the famous, sultry singer that any girl would kill to get her hands on. I swiped back to my Internet screen on the phone and clicked on images, checking out his face. The more I looked, the more I realized the resemblance was obvious and I chided myself for not noticing on my own. I wondered if his previous girlfriends knew? Did they figure it out themselves or did he tell them? Lou mentioned something about women wanting him for his celebrity, so some probably knew, but I wonder if some didn't and if they just never found out, or kept his secret? Could I keep that kind of secret? Oh God. What if I couldn't?
Like I said, I was so screwed.
***
Hours later I woke up, still in the chair and stiff from my contorted position, but feeling like a million bucks anyway. I checked my phone and saw I had six messages—three from friends and three from Ben.
His first text, "Are you still awake?" The second, "I guess not," and the third, "Hope you're sleeping well."
I responded to his texts with just one. "Fell asleep thinking about you and just woke up, still thinking about you."
I could write love songs too!
I pulled off my clothes and jumped in the shower, letting the warm water slide down my face while anticipating what would happen when Ben got back. Would he tell me? Would I be able to act like myself and keep the secret or would I bust and tell him what I knew? I didn't think I could keep it to myself. It was too much, too big to hold in. I wasn't upset that he didn't tell me and I didn't want to push him to tell me, either. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew thinking about it wasn't going to change anything. No matter how much I tried to anticipate what would happen, knowing me, whatever was going to come blasting out of my mouth like a bullet was gonna come once I saw him again. I had to stop focusing on it or I'd drive myself crazy.
At breakfast Lou reminded me of my promise, and I told her I'd do my best. She tried to talk to me about it, but I asked to change the subject. "I'm trying not to think about it," I said. "So hopefully I can just be normal when he gets here."
"I sure hope so. I don't want you messin' up such a good thing."
"I hope it doesn't come to that. I mean, he's going to have to tell me eventually."
"You're right about that," Lou said. "Would you like any coffee?" she asked. "There's a fresh pot in the kitchen."
"That would be great, thanks, Lou."
She smiled and walked out of the dining area, returning with the coffee pot. She poured some into my cup and some for herself, then sat with me while I ate toast and cheese grits, chatting about everything but Ben.
"Wow, I'm stuffed," I said, pushing the entirely empty plate away. "That was amazing though. Thank you so much."
She took my plate. "Oh, it ain't nothing. Just a normal mornin's breakfast. Whatcha got planned for the day?"
"I'm going to go for a long walk by the creek and read a book I brought with me. Ben said he should be back early this afternoon, so I've got a good few hours to relax and read before he's back."
"Sounds good." I could tell she was trying not to talk about Ben. "I'll just fetch some things for you to take with and put them in the knapsack for you."
"Thanks, Lou."
"You bet."
***
I walked along the creek, lost in my thoughts about Ben. I wasn't even thinking about Bret-Ben, just Ben-Ben. How he made me feel. How he looked at me. The way my stomach filled with butterflies every time I pictured his face. Finally settling on the perfect spot, I pulled out the throw and laid it on the ground, spreading it out just near the creek on a soft patch of grass and moss. I pulled out my book and got
comfortable. The book, a story about a woman whose best friend dies in a car accident, pulled me in so deep, I had no idea how much time had passed.
"There you are," Ben said, shocking me out of my fictional world. "Lou said you'd come out here hours ago."
I jumped up, dropping the book on the throw. "Oh my God, you're back. I…I didn't realize the time." I looked at my wrist even though I hadn't worn a watch in years. "What time is it?"
"It's just after two," he said. "I got back at about one, took a quick shower and walked over here." He put his guitar down on the throw and pulled me close. "I missed you." He pressed his soft lips onto mine. I melted into him, feeling my body both relax and tense at the same time. Ben stirred feelings deep inside of me, feelings I couldn't understand or describe. I just knew I felt something I'd never felt before and I didn't want it to stop.
We made our way down to the throw, pushing the book and guitar aside, laying next to each other, touching and kissing and smiling through it all. It never even crossed my mind that I was kissing Bret Bennett, because I wasn't. I was kissing Ben Reynolds. An amazing, wonderful man who, for reasons I couldn't understand, thought I hung the moon. Bret Bennett didn't even factor into any of that, celebrity be damned.
"You okay?" Ben asked.
I wiped a stray hair from his eye. "Yeah, I'm great." I kissed his nose. "Better than great, actually. I guess I missed you." I winked.
"I know I missed you. It's strange, isn't it?"
I leaned back. "What? Missing each other?"
He nodded, and then kissed my neck softly, sending chills throughout my body.
"Yeah, it kind of is, actually," I said, trying to stay calm. "I mean, we barely know each other, but like you said, there's this connection between us."
"I know. It's undeniable," he said, and kissed my neck again.
"Exactly," I said.
"I don't want it to stop when we leave here," he said. "I want to see you back in the city. You'll still see me, right?"
I touched his face. "You're so not getting out of this that easily, Ben Reynolds. Of course I'm still going to see you. You'll probably be sick of me after the first week we're back though."
"I doubt that," he said. "I do have a trip coming up soon and I'm going to be in and out of town for some time."
I remembered the link to his tour schedule. "Oh? Where you going?" I asked, hoping the tone of my voice didn't give away what I knew.
Ben sat up. "On tour. That's what I met with my manager about today. We had to finalize a few of the last venues."
I sat up, acting excited for him. "A tour? That's great news! You're hitting the big time now aren't you? We've never really talked about your career. Are you opening for someone? Playing bars and stuff or what? What cities are you playing?" I was nervous so I kept talking to try and hide it. Any time I was nervous I ended up talking too much, too fast. It wasn't one of my better qualities.
"Hold on there, girl," he said, laughing. "You're shooting those questions out like bullets and I can't keep up. Besides, I've got something to tell you." He ran a hand through his hair. "And it's a biggie."
I knew what was coming, but wasn't sure what to say. "Okay." My voice shook a little.
"I haven't told you everything, but I honestly didn't know I was going to feel this way about you, that we'd have this kind of connection, so I didn't think it mattered if you knew the truth or not. And now I realize it does matter, and I need to tell you."
"You're scaring me," I said, and I meant it. Maybe there was a different truth and I didn't know it, or maybe he was going to tell me things weren't going to work out for us after all.
He pulled me close and kissed me. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you."
"Then just say it, Ben. Really, whatever it is, just say it."
Even though I had a pretty good idea about what he planned to say, I tensed. My palms were sweating and my heart raced. I knew it was silly, but I feared there was the chance that he'd say something different, like tell me he was married or gay or God knew what. It was the anticipation that got to me and made me blurt out what I said next.
"Are you married? Or gay? Oh, God. You're not gay are you? I mean, I've adjusted to the fact that you're Bret Bennett, which surprisingly, wasn't as hard as I thought, but if you're gay, that'll really throw me for a loop. So come on, just tell me before I hyperventilate."
His jaw dropped. "You know?"
My eyes widened at the realization of what my big mouth blurted out. "Know what?" Playing dumb wasn't one of my stronger qualities either.
"Lou told you, didn't she?"
I nodded ever so slightly, contrite. "She begged me not to say anything."
"How'd that work for you?" he asked, smiling.
"That depends on how upset you are, actually," I said.
"It was surprisingly easy to adjust to me being Bret Bennett, huh?"
I shrugged. "Actually yes, and I'm pretty shocked about that, too. Once the panic attacks subsided, it kind of didn't matter. It's actually a little disappointing that it's not a bigger deal to me. I thought it would be, but I didn't even realize it wasn't until I just said it."
"So you're not mad that I didn't tell you?"
"Not as mad as I am at myself for not recognizing you."
He tapped a finger to his chin and nodded. "So you like my disguise?"
"That depends," I said.
He furrowed his brow. "On what?"
"On which is the disguise and which is the real you. If this…" I waved my hand at him. "If this is the disguise then I'm bummed, because I like this look a lot. A lot. But if Bret's darker, shorter hair is the disguise, than yeah that's cool. I'm good with it."
"This is me," he said. "I'm Ben. Bret is my music persona. I am a natural blond and keep Bret's hair short so I can get the color out quickly and grow my hair back when I'm not touring."
I ran my hands through his hair. "I like the longer, shaggy look. It's sexy and it suits you and it makes my insides melt every time I see you." I kissed him. "Don't get me wrong, Bret Bennett is hot, but I prefer the super smokin' hotness of Ben Reynolds."
He dropped his back to the ground. "I was completely freaked about how to tell you," he said. "I didn't know how you'd take it."
"I didn't take it that well at first, really. It freaked me out too. You've probably got girls crawling all over you. And do you have a bodyguard?" I clenched my fists. "I'm afraid the girls might be a problem."
Ben laughed. "The girls aren't a big deal," he said.
"Seriously? You did not just say that."
"To me. They're not a big deal to me. And yes, I have a bodyguard while I'm on tour. A few actually, and they help with the girls. I don't really have a problem with the girls. Most of the time I don't even realize they're around. And I don't do a lot of backstage pass stuff or public appearances so I don't really run into them all that much."
"You're going on tour in three weeks."
He nodded.
"How long will you be gone?"
"Six months, off and on."
"Six months?" I dropped my back onto the throw. "That's a long time."
"Yes, but I've got time between most gigs, and I'll be able to fly back home a lot, and if you can get the time off, you can fly out to see me. I've got a good paying job, so I can buy your tickets." He smiled big and I smiled at the slightly crooked tooth.
I raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a nest egg?"
"I do," he said, winking at me. "That's a turn-on for you, isn't it?"
"Kind of," I said, smirking.
"We can make it work, Carly," he said, pulling me over and on top of him. "It's only six months, and like I said, I'll be back often, at least once a week. You won't want to see me more than that anyway. You'll get sick of me."
I kissed his nose. "I'm pretty sure that won't happen."
"Just pretty sure?"
"Never say never."
"You've got spunk. I like that," he said, and pulled me closer.
"I'm freaking kissing Bret Bennett," I said.
"And I'm freaking kissing Carly…" He paused. "What the heck is your last name anyway?"
I laughed. "Howard. Carly Mason Howard. Two last names because my mom gave me her maiden name as my middle name."
"I'm freaking kissing Carly Mason Howard."
"And you're one lucky SOB," I said, kissing him again.
***
The kissing was passionate and intense, but it wasn't enough. I wanted more. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, to trace the cut of his waist with my fingers. Ben and I had effectively turned a corner in our quick romance. We made a non-verbal commitment to each other—him by telling me who he was, or trying to anyway, and me by not caring. Our feelings were clear and our attraction was strong. I wanted to move the physical part of our relationship forward to match it up with the emotional part, but I didn't want to be the one to make the first move.
Ben must have felt the same because his hands wandered to places they'd never been and didn't stop mine from doing the same. His hand slipped under my shirt and unhooked my bra in one swift, impressive motion, making me wonder what other tricks he'd show me.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "We can stop if you want. I don't want to rush you."
"I don't want you to stop," I said, and pulled his head to mine. He opened my lips with his tongue, and set my desire on fire. I pushed him away and tried to pull my shirt over my head, but my hands shook and it got stuck on my neck. I wanted to crawl away in shame, but I couldn't see through my shirt to do so.
"Here, let me get that," he said. He moved the shirt around and pulled it off slowly. I caught him staring at my breasts, loosely covered by my unhooked bra. The air, just a touch cool, brushed my skin, sending shivers across my body and creating goose bumps.
He caressed my stomach with the tips of his fingers, dotting my skin with even more goose bumps from his touch. He lifted his eyes to mine, gave me a slight, sweet smile, and gently pulled the straps of my bra down over my shoulders and lifted it from me. Instinctively I covered myself, but he pulled my arms away.
"Don't," he said. "You're beautiful. Don't hide from me."
The Inn at Laurel Creek Page 6
