Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted

by Kaitlyn Cross

  “Don’t listen to him, Ben.”

  He turned to Janna with a sheepish smile.

  “He’s just nervous about next weekend’s competition. Man hasn’t had an ounce of sugar in two weeks and is driving me crazy.” Her high heels that made her almost as tall as he was clicked closer, a twinkle in her eye. “You just keep doing what you’ve been doing and I won’t settle for anything less.”

  He smiled back at her and continued wiping down the chair.

  Janna was the shit. She called the shots around here and everyone knew it. Doug was little more than a lobbyist bully. Always pushing (scheming) to get his way, regardless of who might get hurt. He didn’t have the power he thought he did - a result of marrying into a business that wasn’t his to begin with.

  Janna sighed. “Man is going to drive away every employee we have.” Her black high heels added four inches to her already tall frame and clicked against the concrete floor as she went to the front door and turned the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. “Let’s go grab a quick cup of coffee around the corner. I want to talk to you about something.”

  His eyebrows dipped beneath the brim of his ball cap, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. “Okay.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Saints Patio and Pub had the best tenderloin in town and Brooke wasn’t above eating the whole thing either. Fries included. She wasn’t one to pick at her plate but couldn’t remember the last time she had consumed a full meal. After losing her good friend and her home, her appetite had been the next thing to hit the bricks. She took another bite, careful not to drip ketchup and mustard onto her shirt. The glossy Cosmopolitan page swooshed when she flipped it. Even the guys in the ads reminded her of Ben and she couldn’t figure out why. They were much skinnier than he was and looked like they couldn’t open a new jar of mayonnaise. But there his face was, on their emaciated little model bodies. Actually, she knew why. The why in question was bigger than a bread box and took her to cloud nine every single time.

  But there was something else.

  Mrs. Randall’s words rattled around in her head like loose coins in a dryer, clinking and clanging with every turn she took.

  Luck had nothing to do with it.

  The words slashed through her mind like a cold winter blast, leaving goose bumps across her arms. She cracked a smile. Even though it made no sense, just thinking about him made her stomach do somersaults. Brooke knew he was a douchebag player – into public displays of exhibitionism no less - and definitely no hero like Nathan Randall, but something kept pulling her back to him. Brooke stopped chewing, abruptly recalling Ben coming to her rescue at Wooly’s last night.

  Okay, maybe a douchebag player with a sprinkle of hero.

  She washed her sandwich down with some Pepsi. Ben’s face popped up on the pages of the magazine, the coaster when she lifted her glass, the TVs lining the walls, the guy walking into the restaurant with a pretty lady on his arm. Brooke did a double-take and so did her heart. A surge of adrenaline shot through her and she almost spilt her drink when she lifted the magazine to cover her reddening face.

  She held her breath, wondering if he had seen her. Her heart beat so fast she felt lightheaded and, more than likely, unable to complete a coherent sentence. She started praying, trying to blend into her surroundings. After a few excruciatingly painful seconds that lasted forever, she braved to peer over the top of the magazine like a hardboiled detective on a hot case. Ben sat down in a booth across the room, talking with the pretty woman in kick ass heels.

  Brooke ducked back down and that’s when it hit her. She had to pee. And bad. She peeked over the pages again and grimaced when she saw she would have to pass right by their table to reach the restroom. Same thing went for the front door. She ducked back down and shut her eyes so tight she saw white spots. Trapped.

  “Shit,” she whispered, contemplating a plan of action for a flawless escape that didn’t exist.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  Her heart almost jumped out of her chest at the sound of the waitress’ voice. Brooke’s eyes rose just above the magazine to see her smiling face. “No thank you.” She dove back behind the pages and pretended everything was cool.

  “I can take this whenever you’re ready.” The waitress set down the bill and finally walked the fuck away.

  Brooke shifted in the booth, trying to find a better spot to appease her swollen bladder. It felt like it would burst at any second and she kicked herself for not going to the bathroom five minutes ago when she had the chance. She looked down at the remainder of her tenderloin, which now looked about as appealing as hot chocolate in August. Time ticked by. She wasn’t sure how much because she was afraid to look at her watch and give away her position. Jennifer Anniston stared back at her from the page of an advertisement for vitamin water and seemed to be laughing at Brooke’s predicament. Brooke searched the pretty celebrity’s face, pleading for advice because if anyone knew how to get out of a jam like this it was her. But Jennifer only smiled and waited to see what would happen next.

  “Well, well, well…howdy, freckles.”

  Brooke hesitated before slowly peering over the top of the magazine, Jennifer really laughing now.

  Ben stood there grinning at her with that damn scruff coating his cheeks, thumbs hanging from belt, black leather coat unzipped, tight Johnny Cash t-shirt running its fingers over Ben’s abs of steel just like Brooke wanted to do.

  “Freckles?”

  He glided into the bench opposite her. “Sorry, been knee-deep in a Lost marathon lately.”

  She glanced to the table he had been sitting at to find two lonely mugs and the dark haired woman gone. “You can’t sit here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because someone will see us.”

  Ben looked around. Other than a table of three guys in the far corner, the waitress and a super tall bartender, they were alone. “Like who?”

  “I don’t know, but this town isn’t that big. Mandy could walk in any minute, or her sister.” She lowered her voice like Mandy had just walked in.

  “Relax, no one is going to see us, especially if we sneak back to my place for a quickie.”

  Brooke’s forehead wrinkled. “Are you insane? I’m not going back to your place!”

  “Then why are you following me?”

  “I was here before you were, Einstein.”

  “Likely story,” he grumbled, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “Well, if you’re not following me and I’m not following you that only leaves one option left.”

  “Horrifically bad luck?”

  “I think under the laws of destiny you have to give me your number now.”

  “Think again.”

  “Don’t fight your feelings, Brooke. Last night was amazing.”

  “That will never happen again.”

  He smiled that smile that melted her insides. “Third time’s a charm.”

  She leaned closer, drawing him in. “There is no charm for horrible people, because that’s what we are. Horrible people. And you know what happens to horrible people?”

  He lightly shook his head from side to side, literally on the edge of his seat.

  “Horrible people have horrible children.” Brooke raised her eyebrows. “Is that what you want, Dragon? Serial killers for children?”

  He scrunched his face up and pondered the forbidding prospect. “So now we’re having children? I think you better slow it down just a tad, sassafras.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Hey, you know what they say: practice makes perfect.” He jerked his chin toward the front door. “My place?”

  Her face soured. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell,” she said, barely moving her lips. “That was a one time thing.”

  Ben arched an eyebrow. “You mean two time thing.”

  “What are you doing here anyway?” she asked, ignoring him. “And what happened to your Amazonian cougar girlfriend you came in with?”


  “Janna? She’s my boss.”

  Her eyes moseyed back to the table near the front door and snapped back to him, her heart relaxing a sliver or so. “Oh.”

  His smile returned in full force, pulling back into his two day stubble. “Just gave me a huge raise.” He stretched an arm along the back of the booth like it was no big deal. “She’s an awesome boss. Her husband’s an a-hole but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, guy’s a total meathead dick.”

  “No, I mean about the raise.”

  “Yep, probably going to buy another bike, maybe a new one this time.”

  “How many bikes do you have?”

  “Just one and she is a real beaut! Vintage Triumph that you’d look amazing on the back of.”

  Brooke didn’t look impressed.

  “Black on black anniversary edition.”

  She cocked an eyebrow.

  “One of only two hundred made.”

  “Well, good for you. Congratulations.”

  “You like bikes?”

  She raised an indifferent shoulder to her ear. “They’re okay,” she lied, trying to downplay how much guys with bikes turned her on.

  “Wanna go for a quick ride out to the lake? I’m parked over at the shop.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Could be the last chance this year.”

  “Mmm, I guess not.”

  He peered deeply into her eyes and made her squirm. Or maybe it was her bladder making her squirm. Brooke wasn’t sure. “Hey, what do you say you help me celebrate tonight?”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Yeah, my raise. Maybe some stimulating conversation about how great I am over dinner and drinks.”

  Brooke glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to work.”

  His wry grin deteriorated. “How about tomorrow then? I’ve got the whole day off.”

  She pushed her lips into the side of her face. “You’re not so hot at taking hints, are you?”

  “Au contraire, mon frère,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the hints your eyes are giving me.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “And just what are my eyes telling you?”

  “The exact opposite of everything you say.”

  “That is so not true.”

  “See? They just did it again.”

  Brooke fought off the image of him lying naked in his bed spontaneously flickering through her mind. “You wish, Leatherface.”

  He studied her eyes until she looked away. “Windows to the soul.”

  She dismissed his comment with an offended harrumph.

  “What time is good? I’ll pick you up, and, don’t worry, we’ll take the truck.”

  “Goodbye, Ben,” she said, grabbing her purse and sliding out of the booth. “Have a nice day and congratulations again.” With a twist of her hips, she power walked to the restroom with her head held high, praying she wouldn’t pee her pants along the way.

  Brooke pushed through the door and cornered a stall, yanked her jeans down and sat on the toilet. Relief flooded her insides almost immediately. Her mind drifted back to Ben while an endless stream sprayed loudly off the toilet’s bowl. She pulled her cell from the purse in her lap and scrolled to his name and number. Her thumb tapped at the screen, bringing up the delete button. Her eyes blurred it into an electric smudge as she debated with herself in her head. A deep breath filled her lungs and she focused in on the delete button and tapped it, part of her regretting it as soon as she did. A bigger part, however, assured her it was for the best. Her life had gone off the rails and Ben whatever his last name was would only make things worse. He and his cocky little grin could take a flying leap. Same went for those yoked up arms and that chest her hands yearned to explore. And don’t even bring up that thing in his pants. Oh, no. That thing is a menace to society and needs to be stopped.

  A moment later, Brooke examined herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, hoping he would be just as gone as his “alleged” Amazonian boss was when she came back out. She took her time, giving him all the encouragement in the world to (for once in his life) take a fucking hint. After a calming breath and some minor hair adjustments, she pulled the door back and reemerged into the restaurant.

  Ben stood there waiting with a smile to greet her, his leg propped against the wall, trying on his best James Dean for size. “Thought you might’ve fallen in. I was about to see if you needed any assistance.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t have secret cameras installed in there to find out, ya perve.” She pushed past him. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. A tiny gasp skidded past her lips when his body pressed up against hers.

  He stared hard into her upturned face. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know you feel the same.”

  She swam in his chocolate milk colored eyes, looking for something to hang onto, fighting the flush of heat between her legs, desperate for breath. “You’re insufferable.”

  The touch of a smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “See? Your eyes just gave you away again.”

  She jerked her arm back and shoved him in the chest, feeling those rounded pecs against her palms one last time.

  He stepped aside and watched her storm off, grappling for something to say before she simultaneously burst out the front door and his life. “You’re making a big mistake!”

  Brooke stopped with her hand on the glass door and watched a red Jeep Wrangler with the top down whip into the lot. His self-assuredness made her blood boil. She stomped back over to him, a heavy scowl stealing her normally sweet disposition. “No, this is making a big mistake.” She wadded his t-shirt into her fist, pulled him to her lips and kissed him hard. Her hands pressed against his chest of their own volition with a mind of their own. Sparks streaked across her closed eyes.

  Caught off guard, he resisted for only a second before sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her back. They held each other tightly, heads swimming back and forth to compliment the other as light music rained down from the recessed speakers above. Brooke broke for air and tore free of his embrace, reality slowly settling in with each racing breath she took.

  “I’m sorry,” she panted, wiping her lips. “That wasn’t fair. I don’t know what…”

  He reached for her. “Never apologize for that.”

  She let him take her hand as if she had no control over her own body, like she was watching everything happen from above, powerless and adrift, pushed out by another life form. His thumb swiped across her skin, sending electricity zinging throughout her nervous system. Her eyes waded into his, seeing something in there she had never seen before. The next thing she knew, her lips were on his once again, softly nibbling with no control over her body.

  “Brooke?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. She spun around. Eyes bulged from their sockets. “Dad?”

  Chapter Twelve

  An uncertain smile wiggled across Will’s face as he eyeballed Ben from his blue Nikes to his black ball cap with no logo. He glanced at Brooke and looked back to Ben. “Hey, honey.”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  Without taking his eyes from Ben, he jerked his chin to a heavyset man – decked out in khakis and an orange Callaway windbreaker – talking on his cell phone and absentmindedly sliding into a booth against the wall. “Jason and I cut out of work early and hit the links.”

  “Can’t beat that on the first day of November.”

  Will honed his gaze, examining Ben like he was a new species. “No, you can’t.”

  “Last year at this time it was twenty-eight degrees with four inches of fresh powder on the ground.”

  Will stepped forward in his khakis and lime green golf shirt. “Will Burnett.”

  Ben shook his hand and opened his mouth to reply.

  “You remember Tony, don’t ya, dad?” Brooke blurted, slapping Ben on the arm.

  Will tightened his grip along with his gaze. “Tony?”

>   “Yeah, we dated for a little while last spring. I think you met him once or twice.” She rubbed Ben’s arm affectionately.

  Will barely nodded, not taking his eyes (or hand) off Ben. “Oh yeah, I remember.” He finally released his grip and turned his attention to his youngest daughter. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hedged. “Are you two…”

  “We are,” Ben said, beating Brooke to the punch this time. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Now that we’ve had some time to think things through, we both came to realize this deserved another chance.” He could feel Brooke’s fluttering breaths storming her lungs.

  Will put his hands on his hips, car keys dangling from his fingers. “So how long have you two been…”

  “Couple few weeks,” Brooke said.

  Will’s head bobbed up and down.

  She fidgeted under her father’s scrutinizing gaze and Ben’s heavy arm.

  “Well, that is certainly some exciting news,” Will finally said, trading a look with his daughter she couldn’t read. He glanced over his shoulder to his buddy, who was off the phone now and watching them. “I should get going but it was good to see you again, Tony.”

  “Likewise,” Ben said, shaking his hand again.

  Will smiled at Brooke and turned for the booth. Part way there he stopped and turned. “Hey, you know what? Laura is making her world famous lasagna tomorrow night. Why don’t you stop by, Tony.”

  Brooke’s eyelids flipped back inside her head. “He’s busy tomorrow night, dad.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She turned to Ben with as fake a smile as she could muster. “Isn’t tomorrow night your bowling night, sweetie?”

  Will’s face stiffened. “You bowl, Ben?”

  “I do.”

  “Oh, I love me some bowlin.”

  Ben looked down at Brooke. “League is the next night, sugar pie.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s tomorrow night, doodle bug.”

  He spoke slowly, yet firmly. “Every Wednesday night, honey bunches of oats.”

  “Maybe you should check again, sweet potato.”

  Will shook his head, a smile pulling into one side of his face. “You two are so stinkin cute.” He backpedalled to his friend, pointing at Ben along the way. “You remember the address?”