Friendzoned (The Busy Bean)

by Rachel Blaufeld

  A plan was coming together in my mind on how to promote a few of my favorite things together, plus make a small name for myself. I was energized in a way I’d never been. Refusing to think about my parents and what they would think of my small town idea, I dove back into the book. This one was about a rake and a woman from the wrong side of society.

  I was at the good part when the hero was suckling on particular parts of the heroine’s body, her bodice slowly coming off, when my phone dinged. Grabbing it, I noted it was eleven o’clock, and the text was from Ben.

  I can’t stop thinking about those boots.

  Absolutely nothing could stop the broad smile from spreading over my face. I could feel my laugh lines scrunching and knew this moment would lead to a wrinkle. If my mom knew, she’d be pissed.

  Before I could dream up a witty response, another text dinged.

  Sorry for the sultry text, but I mean it. Looking forward to Tuesday.

  Still unable to think of a comeback, I searched through my GIFs. When I found the one I wanted, I sent a small GIF of Nancy Sinatra singing “These Boots Are Made For Walking.”

  Almost immediately, the little bubble with dots popped up.

  That’s not helping. You’re a shameless flirt.

  I’d been called a lot of things, but shameless flirt had never been one of them. So I sent back one word.

  Me?

  Because I didn’t even know how to do this texting and flirting thing (we didn’t learn it in our decorum class), I followed up with:

  A flirt?

  Yes. You. I have to behave. My nephew is asleep down the hall. Also, Nancy Sinatra? You know her?

  Of course I do. My parents loved her dad.

  I didn’t feel like talking about my parents anymore. They only dragged my mood down, and I’d already spent most of life living for what they wanted.

  All of a sudden, a happy thought shocked me back to reality. Gosh, what would my mom think of my reading romance novels? Not much, I expected.

  You know Nancy met Elvis when he came back from the Army?

  Not expecting that little tidbit, I responded with:

  Are we playing trivia now?

  Sorry to disturb you. As you know, I’m actually a bit of a closet music aficionado. Elvis is a favorite.

  Hey, I’m only reading in bed. You’re not disturbing me. I forgot to ask . . . were you always into music?

  Yeah. But never those boy bands you listened to at Pressman, or the grunge groups the guys liked. It wasn’t until college where I found a crew who liked decent music.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how little I knew about Ben, even though we’d been friends for four years in high school. I guessed it was because I’d kept our conversations on the surface.

  I wish I knew back then. At Pressman. I wish I knew a lot back then. More about you.

  Dots bounced on my screen for a long time as Ben composed his response.

  You’re going to know now . . . better late than never. Go read, Murph. I have to operate this Monday, filling in for my partner. See you Tuesday.

  That’s it? That was where he was going to leave it?

  Like I said, I didn’t get this texting and flirting thing. Maybe this was some kind of hard-to-get deal?

  Setting my phone down, I tried to get back into my book, but it was useless. My mind was way beyond the sexy rake.

  19

  Ben

  Blowing out a long exhale as I knocked on Murphy’s door on Tuesday, I hoped I hadn’t been too assertive when it came to my pressing her against it the other night and having my way with her body. Or when texting her.

  I’d been feeling fucking great after our movie night. Despite the shitty circumstances that brought us together, we were finally in the same place at the same time. Emotionally and physically, I thought.

  “Hey,” Murphy said as she pulled the door open.

  Schooling my expression, I managed a smile. Her place was in such disrepair, and I couldn’t help but worry. I was certain Murphy had never lived as low before. Would she know what to do if the rickety door broke or her ceiling leaked?

  “Hey, yourself,” I said instead of letting my thoughts spiral any further. Instead of kissing her like I wanted to, I leaned in to hand her an extra-frothy latte.

  “For me?”

  I nodded. “Zara said it’s your favorite. Although, my Americano wasn’t quite as good as usual.”

  “Did the new kid make it?” Murphy asked quickly, her voice tight as she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

  As I stepped inside, I took a moment to take all of Murphy in—long red waves cascading over her shoulder and her eyes bright, wearing a flannel shirt knotted at her waist and cutoffs.

  Staring at her bare feet, I said, “He did. The new kid, that is.”

  Frowning, Murphy said, “I wonder if Zara’s unhappy with me. Did she say anything to you? Sometimes you two chat when you come in, I noticed.”

  “I doubt she’s unhappy with you. She made you your fave drink, all by herself.” I shut the door behind me and thought about skipping the farmers’ market. Maybe we could stay in? Like old times when we stayed in her dorm behind closed doors.

  “I just wondered because they started Zane pretty soon after me.” She bent to grab her boots and a pair of what looked like ankle socks.

  Farmers’ market, it is. I don’t want to hide being with Murphy.

  “Murph, look at me,” I said firmly.

  Trying to ignore her knotted shirt riding up a bit, exposing a flash of creamy skin, I forced myself to look her in the eye. “I don’t know Zara well. And for the record, she talks to anyone who comes in regularly. She was a bartender, so talking comes naturally to her.”

  Murphy rolled her eyes at me, propping her hands on her hips. “Don’t stereotype. It’s not nice.”

  “You’re right. Either way, I don’t know Zara much more than my running in for coffee. There was the one time her daughter, Nicole, fell at school, and Zara asked me to do a favor and take a look at her arm. Thankfully, it was only a bad sprain. Anyway, Zara is good people. She’s not doing anything to spite you.”

  As Murphy sat down to pull on her socks and boots, I said, “I’ll tell you this. The new kid is a friend of Kieran Shipley’s—he and Roddy introduced him to Zara. I only know because Zara told me this when I asked if she would consider hiring Branson. She’s giving this young kid a chance, so Branson still has to hunt around. No hard feelings about it, since she actually suggested he try at the hardware store.”

  Standing up, Murphy came over and hugged me tightly. “Thank you. It may not feel like much to you, but knowing that means everything to me. Yesterday, Zara asked me if I wanted to work for Hunnie full time when I was on my break, and I panicked.”

  “Come here.” I pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Murph, you’ve got to understand this isn’t New York. Everyone is aboveboard here. Honesty is practically the law in Vermont.”

  Murphy laughed, and I could feel her giggle vibrating against my chest. “Seriously, I was nervous. I even had a silly idea for the Bean, and was too afraid to share it with Zara after that.”

  “By the way, Hunnie texted me that she loved your idea for the straws. So if I were you, I wouldn’t be scared to share any ideas.”

  Pinching my side, Murphy broke out into a wide grin. “Yeah, thanks for throwing me under the bus.”

  “It was a perfect idea, and I could tell you weren’t going to share.”

  “Whatever. Let’s go. I can’t stare at these walls anymore.”

  “Anxious to head to my place?” I asked, changing the subject so I wouldn’t keep worrying about her apartment. I did make a mental note to find out who her landlord was and see if they planned to update the place.

  “You promised me dessert,” she said with a little sass.

  “I did. I also don’t have a Keurig, but I do have the real stuff if you want.”

  “Ha-ha. I’m going to be caffeinated
and sugared up after my latte. I don’t think you’re going to want to serve me anymore,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Maybe a small dessert.”

  “You’re looking very Vermonty, Murph,” I told her as we walked out the door.

  “I’m channeling my inner Hunnie. I actually hid my white shorts in the back of my closet.”

  “Did you now?” I joked, opening the Jeep’s passenger door for her.

  “Also, it’s going to freeze soon.”

  This had me laughing as I got into the driver’s seat. “It’s the middle of July. Give it at least a month.”

  “Two, I heard. September.”

  “Could be. But then we get to have ski season, the most gorgeous time of year around here. Sadly, also my busiest,” I said while backing the car into the street.

  “That’s too bad. You’ve got to live a little, Ben.”

  “Do you ski?” I asked, imagining she learned in Aspen.

  “I do. Or I did. A long time ago. We took a couple of family trips to Jackson Hole. Actually, I should say they were more work trips for my parents. Networking, fundraising, and all that good stuff while I was stuck in ski school and babysitting night at the hotel.”

  Blown away, I shook my head. “I can’t imagine. I’m sorry to say it, but I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. At least I knew how to ski and wasn’t scared in college. I went a few times with friends. It was fun.”

  “I learned. Or I should say I’m self-taught. We used to goof around as kids on borrowed skis and back hills. Then, on one of the breaks from Pressman, I was sick of hearing all the ski stories, so I went over to the Mad River area and rented a cheap pair of skis and jumped on the lift, studying what other people were doing as they hopped off the lift at the top. Then I just jumped off after them, trying to do what they did. Probably not the best idea, and a sure way to get hurt. Thank God my football coach never found out.”

  I wound my way along the narrow road lined with country homes and tall trees, wondering what Murphy’s home looked like when she was growing up.

  Glancing at me, she said, “You’re pretty cool, you know that?”

  “I don’t know about cool . . .”

  “Back then, you never even told me about how you learned to ski, but I do remember you going on a few ski trips.”

  “Well, I told everyone my dad taught me, because I’m from Vermont where everyone skis, right? But not everyone can afford it because it’s expensive. I didn’t even have ski pants. That first time I went, I wore jeans with long underwear underneath, and an old winter coat.”

  “So, do you ski now?” Murphy asked.

  “When I have time. I do like it because it’s an odd juxtaposition. You’re flying down the hill, seconds away from possible death, and yet it’s peaceful. Gives me time to think.”

  I took a quick peek at Murphy’s profile to see she was quiet and listening. “You know, you always did that,” I blurted before thinking.

  “What are you talking about?” She turned to look at me. I could sense the movement in my veins.

  “Jeez,” I said, taking one hand off the wheel and running it through my hair. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud. What I meant was you were always a good listener. You always seemed to give me your full attention when we were hanging out in your room at Pressman, and now too.”

  Leaning her head back, she let out a belly laugh.

  It was my turn to say, “What?”

  “It’s all part of the training from my mom on mingling in high society, and being a politician’s daughter. Be a good listener, Murphy. Always act like you’re interested, Murphy.”

  Not going to lie, my heart clenched, and I had to resist rubbing it. My fingers tightening around the steering wheel, I said, “So, it’s just an act.”

  “Mostly, but never with you. Truth is, I was always able to be myself with you. I mean, the other night, the intimacy,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “I haven’t had that with anyone. Yes, I’ve been physically intimate before, but never emotionally comfortable while doing it. Oh. Wow. I didn’t mean to take the conversation there.”

  “It’s good. I was worried I rushed, took things too fast or far. But,” I said, turning into the dusty parking lot, “hold that thought for later. First, all things Vermont.”

  “Sounds perfect right now.”

  After parking, I hopped out of the Jeep and rounded the front, but Murphy was already jumping out. “It may be perfect, but let’s not forget your idea for Zara or our good time against your front door.” I took her hand in mine and walked toward the entry gate.

  “Let’s do this. Let me tell Zara and then we’ll discuss it. I don’t want to jinx myself.”

  I nodded. “Deal. And us,” I said, lifting our clasped hands in front of us. “You know what? Don’t answer, I’ll show you later.”

  This got me a half smile, enough to create cute crinkles at the sides of her eyes. I’d take it.

  “Oh, look. Honey. Let me take a quick look,” Murphy said when we started walking the aisles.

  “Sure.”

  She wandered over toward a table, taking my hand and me along with her.

  I’d lived in Vermont almost all my life, and I’d never been happier. Problem was, if this thing with Murphy was going to last, I’d have to eventually be honest with her, and I hadn’t been totally honest with anyone. Maybe Brenna, but that’s about it. I didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t “good, decent people” anymore.

  “Hi,” the woman said with a big smile as we walked up to her table.

  “Hi.” Murphy smiled back before picking up a small mason jar of honey.

  “That’s local raw honey,” the woman said with pride. “We have a small apiary by Norwich, and we try to come up here once a month.”

  “Oh, it looks beautiful,” Murphy said, then picked up a little brochure on the honey.

  “Want a taste?”

  Murphy nodded. Taking the spoon, she licked the honey from it with a grin. After telling the lady how good it was, she then bought some.

  After all the thank-yous and pleasantries, we walked away.

  Keeping my voice low, I leaned in to ask, “Sleeping with the enemy?”

  Murphy waggled her brows. “Just a little foreplay. Sampling what’s out there, you know.”

  I couldn’t stop the huge laugh barreling from me. “Come on. Let’s go check out Vermont’s best syrup, Toptree. Although, you know this isn’t the season for syrup, right? We sell it all year, but March is the best time to get it.”

  I tried to calm my nerves as Murphy turned to look at me. My mom was probably working our table, ready to pounce on my sidekick for a quick interrogation at a moment’s notice.

  “I didn’t know that until I started doing this gig for Hunnie,” Murphy said, her turn to wink at me. “I’ve been studying up on all things Vermont.”

  Making our way through the aisles, we reached my family’s setup where a long dark green tablecloth covered the shabby table beneath. Live potted plants lined the center display of our syrups, including the blackberry-flavored one front and center. Waning sunlight reflected off the glass bottles. Pictures of the cheese we offered were arranged in front of the plants. After working many times at farmers’ markets on summer breaks and weekends when I was home, I knew there was plenty of inventory in coolers underneath the table.

  But rather than finding my mom or dad behind the table, I was surprised to see it being manned by our family farm’s bookkeeper.

  “Hey, Ben.”

  “Marley, what are you doing here?”

  She shrugged. “Your dad found some humidity getting into the big fridge where he ferments the cheddar, and your mom stayed to keep him company while he fixed it. You know those two . . . everyone dreams of being as close as they are.”

  I nodded. My mom and dad were somewhat of a legend in the area when it came to long-term romance. Then there was my single-mom sister and me, the eternal bachelor. We didn’t even come close to their le
gacy.

  “I’ll have to give him a call. He didn’t mention it when I talked to him over the phone last week, so it must’ve just happened.”

  “This morning. He tasted a bad batch, so he looked into it.”

  “Well, I’m sure they’re grateful you’re covering for them. Thank you.”

  “Who is this?” Marley said, ignoring my appreciation in favor of giving Murphy a curious look.

  “Mar, this is Murphy, an old friend who just moved to the area. Murphy, this is Marley. She does the books for the farm and is practically family.”

  “Murphy, nice to meet you.” Marley held out her hand, and Murphy shook it like a pro.

  “I love the syrup,” Murphy told her. “I’m a sucker for anything sweet.”

  “Well, let’s get you set up with some.”

  Next thing I knew, I was watching Murphy slowly lick a spoon with blackberry syrup on it, her tongue gliding up and down to get every drop. The way she was making love to that spoon, I couldn’t help but wish that spoon was my mouth, or finger, or . . .

  Well, you get it. It was the most sensual thing I’d ever seen. I really needed to get a hold of myself and my uncontrollable fantasies when it came to this woman.

  Murphy tossed the spoon in the trash, moaning with pleasure. “Mmm, I love that. It’s absolutely heavenly.” Turning toward me, she said, “Ben, I never had this one.”

  But what I heard was, “Ben, take me to bed.”

  “I’ll take a bottle,” she told Marley, pulling out her wallet from her crossbody bag.

  “On the house.” I gently pushed her wallet back toward her purse. “Put it on my tab,” I told Marley with a wink, and she went along with it.