Friendzoned (The Busy Bean)

by Rachel Blaufeld

  “Oh, they went in to watch a movie. Mom’s been nagging Dad for weeks to watch some movie about a kid abandoned on a train platform in India.”

  “Lion,” Murphy said. “It’s called Lion. I cried like a baby watching that movie while crossing the Atlantic on a plane to Europe. It won several awards.”

  “Wow,” Josh said, staring at Murphy. “Not that it won several awards, that you remember watching it on a plane to Europe. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast.”

  “Give it a rest, Josh,” Hunnie said, stepping in. “Go make sure your spawn don’t set their faces on fire roasting their marshmallows.”

  “Happy Fourth,” Murphy whispered. “Hunnie dragged me into this, but it’s been nice. Her parents are sweet,” she said, standing next to me.

  Hunnie made her way over to the kids, squeezing honey on a graham cracker for one.

  “It’s not big-city standards, but it’s a pretty family-focused day around here. Friends and family, I guess.”

  Smiling, she said, “I’m liking it. Fireworks always give me a headache, or maybe it’s all the specialty cocktails served with them at parties. Either way, this has been nice.”

  “I’m glad. You know what’s making my holiday?”

  Murphy stared at me, and if I thought I wanted to kiss her earlier, I was wrong. I really wanted to kiss her now, so much so, I wasn’t sure how I managed to resist. Reaching for her hand, I held her soft fingers in mine.

  “You,” I told her. “It’s really nice seeing you.”

  “Back at you, Doc,” she teased, but her eyes told me she meant it. It was almost as if a flash of relief passed over her features as her brow smoothed out and her eyes brightened.

  We stood there for a while, taking each other in until my phone rang, breaking the moment.

  “Shit,” I mumbled as I glanced at the screen. “It’s the hospital.”

  Taking the call and walking away from the fire a bit, I learned a group of kids—thank God, not including Branson—were in an ATV accident. Two broken legs needed to be set, and a potential broken clavicle. It was going to be a long night.

  “I have to go,” I said, rejoining the group at the fire. “It’s always this way on the Fourth, lots of kids jerking around and accidents. Thanks, Hunnie.”

  Pulling Murphy into my arms, I whispered in her ear, “Thanks for being my big-city fireworks,” before kissing her cheek, letting my lips linger for a beat. And then I was out of there and headed toward the hospital in Montpelier.

  13

  Ben

  “Hey, dude, what’s up?” I said as I answered my phone the following Tuesday while walking out of the hospital. It had been a long holiday weekend of surgeries and follow-ups and running interference between doting parents, nurses trying to do their jobs, and cocky teenagers.

  I’d stopped into the Bean twice for coffee since the Fourth, and both times I’d missed Murphy. Yesterday, I had a meeting in Boston, so I’d been gone most of the day between the drive and the traffic.

  This morning I’d had a surgery, and I couldn’t say I was disappointed when the second surgery was canceled because the patient was running a fever. It meant I could stop by the Bean and see if Murphy was working. Of course, I could call and ask Zara if Murphy was in, but what fun is that? I still didn’t have Murphy’s number, but I liked seeing this side of her—a little frazzled, more real, less robotic.

  My nephew’s voice came over the line. “Mom wanted me to ask if you could take me to dinner. I’m fine staying home alone, but she worries. She’ll check to make sure I called you, but it’s okay if you’re busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for you, Bran. Of course I’ll take you to dinner. I’m actually heading that way now, but I need to stop off and run a quick errand in Colebury first.”

  Clicking the locks on my Jeep, I popped the door open and slid inside.

  “Why?” he asked. “Are you stopping by Oh, For Heaven’s Cakes?”

  I decided it was easier to agree rather than start explaining Murphy to Branson. He already had enough to deal with when it came to relationships. Lord knows when Brenna got upset, she blew a gasket.

  “Yeah, I was thinking of getting some goodies for my office staff for when I go in tomorrow. And the Bean for a coffee for me. How about you? Want something for later?”

  “Nah. I don’t like all that sweet icing, but Mom does.”

  “You’re right. I’m going to grab some treats for her too. So, I’ll be by in a while to get you. Want to go to Wayside?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you in a bit,” I said and disconnected the call.

  On my way to Colebury, I thought about Branson not having a father in the picture. Sometimes he resisted spending a lot of time with me, so I wondered why he gave in so easily this time. Maybe girl trouble? After all, he was sixteen.

  I needed to see my parents too, and I’d thought about asking them to join us for dinner but decided against it. Poor Hunnie was going to harass me until the cows came home if I didn’t talk to them again about the petting zoo.

  I spent the rest of the drive on a call with my nurse, telling me about an emergency appointment she’d scheduled for me tomorrow, a friend of hers with severe knee pain who she promised I’d see. It would be doing her a big favor.

  Hey, that’s the life of a small-town doc.

  Pulling into the Bean, I spotted Murphy’s beat-up Toyota in the lot and smiled to myself.

  I snatched my Yeti and ran to the front door. Trying to contain my excitement, I took a deep breath before yanking the door open. For a second, I’d wondered if Murphy would want to go to the bakery with me.

  “Earth to Ben,” Zara said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Sorry, was thinking of a patient,” I lied.

  Zara smirked. “Yeah, right. Americano, extra hot? Murphy can make it for you.”

  “I guess you don’t miss a thing.”

  Shaking her head, Zara rang up my order before sending my mug down the bar. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered, “but give Murph a minute. These New Yorkers have her working on some type of rainbow drink their kid must have, and of course they’re walking her through the steps.”

  “Rainbow?” My voice was also hushed as I took in Murphy, concentrating as she squeezed multiple syrups into frothy white milk.

  “As luck would have it, Gigi had dropped off some syrup samples that were sent to her bakery a while back. Thank heaven,” Zara dead-panned.

  “Here you go, the Unicorn as you call it.” Murphy handed the drink over to a teenager, and the girl’s dad looked at her with a smile.

  “Just an Americano,” I told Murphy, making my way to her across from the mammoth espresso machine.

  “Thank God. That one’s easy.” With her hair slicked back into a low ponytail and a floral apron cinched at her waist, Murphy looked the part, but I didn’t think being a barista was her calling.

  “Murph, why are you working here?”

  “Shh,” she said, frowning at me. “I need the job. It’s a good job.”

  “Are you doing the internship for Hunnie?” I asked, and she nodded. “Good.”

  When she brought my Americano to the pickup area, I noted there wasn’t anyone behind me.

  “Do I have to call Hunnie for your number? Or are you going to give it to me?”

  Murphy playfully flipped her ponytail to the side, and I had to hide my surprise. This was the most youthful, carefree side of her I’d ever seen. She used to be so in control.

  Before she could respond, I explained. “Well, I wanted to call you ever since it occurred to me that being from the big city, you’ve probably never been to a drive-in.”

  “I’ve had food from a drive-through before, Ben. Don’t be silly.”

  “Not drive-through, Murph. Drive-in.” I wanted to reach across the bar and kiss her silly, but I resisted the urge.

  Realization dawned on her face. “Oh, I’ve never been to one. You mean where you watch
the movies? From your car?”

  Feeling a win, I pulled my phone out of my cargo shorts pocket and said, “Go ahead, give me your digits. I have to go grab some snacks for my staff and pick up my nephew, but I’ll call you later with the drive-in info.”

  She mock-glared at me. “So, you’re going to tell me what to do? That’s how you do it?”

  “Murphy, hurry up and give me the number before you get another rainbow drink to make,” I said, glancing at the father begin his approach toward the coffee bar. “And for the record, I’m going to take you to the drive-in and kiss you like I did the other night. This time, under the moonlight. Maybe a little more if you’re well behaved.”

  I tossed in a wink, trying to be playful when the tightness in my pants was anything but. Christ, I was a doctor. I should know how to play things calmer, cooler, and more collected.

  She faux growled. “I’m at work, Ben. Don’t tease me.”

  “I know. So, hand over your number and an Americano, and I’m out of here.”

  Murphy didn’t protest anymore but started rattling off digits while making my espresso shot, and I punched them into my phone like a drowning person gasps for air.

  The next day, driving home from work, I couldn’t stop thinking about the talk I’d had with Branson over dinner the night before. The poor kid felt like none of the girls liked him because he wasn’t “rich enough.”

  When he divulged feeling that way to me, my heart broke. I knew the feeling all too well.

  My parents had struggled as I was growing up, trying to keep up with producing, bottling, and selling enough syrup in the spring, plus fermenting cheese year round to keep us afloat. The problem was the new technology—sturdy and hygienic lines that ran from the tree carrying sap—were pricey.

  Unlike other farmers in the area, my parents hadn’t inherited our property. Instead, they’d scrimped and borrowed to buy the land and add to the existing trees, tapping the lines themselves, cleaning out buckets and tirelessly grading colors, repairing equipment, and then fermenting cheese in the off season. Eventually, they bought a few cows for their own dairy and had done a little better financially year-round, but expenses were always going up. They’d built Toptree Maple and Cheese over the years, but it wasn’t without a lot of sacrifice and hard work.

  The main difference between my nephew and me was for all those years, I had my dad to lean on, but Branson had no father figure. Only me. I was glad he was turning to me now, and I hoped his getting some more physical activity—like hiking, skiing, and maybe biking—would give him more confidence.

  As I made my way home, my phone rang. Answering via Bluetooth, I was elated to learn it was my real estate agent calling to tell me that my offer on the ski house had been accepted. Assuming the inspection turned up no surprises, the land and the small house on it were mine.

  After disconnecting the call, my phone seemed to stare at me from the center console. I wanted to call or text Murphy, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t been up front with her about my finances, but something about this new purchase made me crazy proud.

  I pulled my car into a driveway, then turned around and went the other direction toward Colebury and the Bean. When I’d texted Murphy last night to tease her about having her number, she’d replied she was going to bed because she had work to do for Hunnie early in the morning, and then had to work at the Bean in the afternoon. But with this news in my pocket, I realized I wanted to see her more than I wanted to shower and get out of the stiff pants and collared shirt I’d worn all day to see patients.

  “Hey, need a coffee?” Murphy said as I got out of my car in front of the Bean.

  “No. Actually, I need you.”

  She must have just finished her shift, her apron gone and probably tucked into her tote. Reaching back for her ponytail holder, she pulled her hair free, shaking it all around her face.

  “Stalk much?” she asked as she approached, a worry line creasing her forehead.

  “Maybe, but not in a bad way.”

  She started to bite her bottom lip, and if the worry line had gone away, I’d take it to mean something different.

  “I’m just joking,” I told her.

  “I know,” she said, leaning against my Jeep, looking pensive.

  “You’re gonna ruin your white shorts, and I’m going to have to report you to Hunnie,” I said, trying to joke again. “By the way, you look nice. Too nice for having just worked behind the coffee bar.”

  “Come on, Ben. Be nice. Maybe I treated you badly in high school, but it doesn’t warrant this.”

  “Hey, I’m kidding again.” I took her hand in mine. “Obviously, I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

  She looked down at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. I’m just trying to do my best and not doing even a little bit good.”

  “I don’t want to take away the way you’re feeling, but you need to tell me more.” My thumb traced a path over hers—my way of asking her to level with me—and it seemed to stop her mood in its tracks.

  Her expression relaxing, she sighed. “I’m sorry. My bad mojo got the best of me, but I’m cool now. And look at me, white shorts still white after a shift. I had to put them on because I need to do laundry.”

  This reminded me of Pressman and the pink socks in the corner of her room. “Are you still as good at it?”

  She playfully shoved my chest. “Why yes, I am, Mister Doctorpants.”

  “Remember how upset you were over those socks?”

  Murphy smiled at the memory. “Well, first I had to admit to you, of all people, that I’d never done laundry. Second, I had to call my parents and admit I’d forgotten to send out my laundry on time. And third, I had to borrow Chloe Curtain’s socks. Yuck.”

  This made me laugh out loud. “So?”

  “That’s gross, Ben. Feet have such germs.”

  “You could have asked me to show you how to do laundry.”

  “I know, because you knew how to do everything. Still do. Look at you, showing up and making me laugh. Operating on people and saving lives. Saving the environment too with your Yeti cup that you never forget. Which makes me think, are you really a doctor or just pretending? You seem to pop up all the time.”

  Grinning, I pulled my hospital ID out of my back pocket and handed it to her.

  “Benjamin Jones Rooney. I never knew.”

  “My mom’s maiden name. She wanted to keep it in the family. She was an only child, and when she took my dad’s name, that was the end of the line.”

  Murphy smirked at me as she handed my ID back. “I could call you Jonesy. Who knew?”

  “My mom would like that, I’m sure.”

  “Ha. But would she like me? I’m not doing too much. I’m nothing like Hunnie or you or Zara. I’m still trying to find my place.”

  “We all start at a different time. I mean it. You were on one path, and now you’re on another.”

  “We’ll see, since you seem to know it all.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, noting I needed a cut, or a “trim” as my mom liked to say in disdain. She’d prefer I kept it neat and short, but I guessed this was my way of being me, especially in a sea of robots at Pressman. The habit stuck afterward.

  With Murphy’s volatile mood, it felt like a bad time to tell her about the land. She was in a down place, and throwing my success in her face felt wrong. It’s not something I would ever do intentionally, so I skipped that little tidbit.

  “I also happen to know of the greatest drive-in theater about an hour from here. So funky, it’s a must. We can make an adventure of it. Really experience Vermont on a scenic drive and all that.”

  “See?” Murphy said with a grin. “There you go again. Perfect suggestion. It’s like you always know what to say.”

  “How about, you look so gorgeous?” I blurted.

  She scoffed. “I just worked at a coffee house. I hardly think that�
�s what you really think, and I’m not fishing for compliments, Jonesy.”

  “Well, you look absolutely radiant, which is why I’m going to do this.”

  Without hesitation, I leaned in, and my lips met hers for a closed-mouth kiss. Breathing in all that was Murphy, I took my time, savoring, promising . . . until she pulled back.

  “I work here, remember?” she said.

  Taking her hand in mine, I walked her down a hillside and backed her up against a tree. This was a small town and I was the doctor in the next town over, but I didn’t care. Pressing myself into her smaller body, my hardness met her softness, and I couldn’t keep from groaning. Our mouths moved together like we’d done this forever, and then she opened for my tongue.

  We stayed like that for a while, grinding into each other, doing with our mouths what we’d like to do with the rest of our bodies, until my lips broke free and ghosted across her cheek, sucking on her ear before traveling down her neck. Her head fell back, and I couldn’t resist running my tongue down her smooth skin to her clavicle and back up.

  “Christ, Murphy. You make me take the Lord’s name in vain. My mom wouldn’t be happy.”

  Murphy ran her lips across my forehead. My messy hair must have been tickling her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  “You also make me want to drag down those prissy white shorts and see what’s underneath. Thong, bikini, whatever, I want to rip it off and devour you.”

  “Ben!”

  I stepped back slightly and placed a quick peck on her lips. “But I won’t, not now. Because we’re adults. Now, I can’t promise what may or may not happen at the drive-in.”

  This earned me another fake punch.

  “Kidding,” I said with a chuckle. “Sort of. Now, when are you off next? Since it might be a late night.”

  “Friday. But what about you?”

  “I’m used to little sleep, and I don’t operate on Fridays, so that’s perfect. I’ll pick you up Thursday around six?”

  She nodded, straightening her tee shirt and smoothing her hair.