At least he didn’t think she would.
“Put me down for a maybe,” he said. He liked Ray, and the man worked hard on the calendar and the auction. They both brought in a lot of money to the fire house for new equipment and supplies. Bennett had just never been able to make quite the big deal out of it as other people.
He wasn’t finished working out, but he didn’t care to get back to it. So he put his dumbbells away, wiped down the bench he’d been using and waved to Ray on the way out.
His step felt lighter than it had all week, because he was going to get to see Jennie in the flesh in just a few hours.
* * *
Bennett hurried up the front steps at Jennie’s house and practically smashed his fist against the doorbell. He was running late—again—and he loathed being late.
She opened the door, and he blurted, “I’m so sorry. Chief Harvey grabbed me right as I was leaving, I swear.”
Her smile came slowly, but it came, and Bennett took the few seconds it took to spread across her face to bask in the warmth of it. Watch her emotion change from guarded and closed off to accepting.
“You’re only forty-five minutes late,” she said. “And you texted.” She plucked her purse from a side table by the door and stepped out onto the porch with him. “I am about to eat my own arm, so I hope you know how to drive fast.”
He slung his arm around her, glad he was able to do such an action without getting slugged. “Oh, I can drive fast, sweetheart.”
She nudged him with her hip, and he drew in a deep breath of her citrusy scent and admired the plum-colored blouse and simple jean shorts she wore. She somehow managed to look sophisticated and artsy with classic gold jewelry around her neck and on her ears, and Bennett found himself wanting to touch those parts of her with his lips.
His heart racing and with him trying to tame his fantasies, he opened her door for her and helped her climb into the truck.
Go slow, he told himself, even muttering it out loud as he rounded the front of the truck.
“So your studio is back up,” he said as he put the vehicle in gear and got going.
“Yep. Back up.”
“What are you working on?”
She gushed about the sculptures she’d envisioned, and he really liked listening to her talk. She carried the conversation for the quick ten-minute drive to the beach, and fell silent as Bennett crawled through the lot, looking for a parking spot.
He cursed himself for being late, because the lunch crowd had obviously already arrived at the beach.
“Over there,” Jennie pointed to the right, and Bennett saw the spot. He took it, ignoring the fact that they had a long walk in front of them, and laced his fingers through hers once they’d both gotten out of the truck.
“How’s work?” she asked.
“It’s boring,” he said, not even trying to play up his job. “We just sit around and wait for a call to come in. Today, Alex practically wet himself when he got to go rescue a cat that had fallen into a window well.” Bennett squeezed her hand as she giggled. “And I use the term ‘rescue’ lightly.”
The cat hadn’t been in any danger. It just couldn’t get out, and the owner was too elderly to get down and help. Alex had been gone for a total of thirty-five minutes, but he’d had this unearthly glow about him when he returned.
They joined the line for hot dogs, and Bennett turned his face into the sun. “I love summer,” he said. “It’s almost over.”
“Just for the kids,” she said. “Well, and their parents. And the teachers.” She edged forward. “But you realize you can still come here, right?”
“Ha ha.” Bennett watched a couple walking the other way, both of them with hot dogs and fries, and his stomach growled too.
“Mabel wants to meet with us about the buffet,” Jennie said.
“Oh?” A stitch of guilt pulled through Bennett. He still hadn’t gone up and finished the demo in the west wing. At this point, Lauren Michaels had probably done it. “What’s a buffet?”
Jennie laughed then, a full laugh that shook her shoulders and sent her joy cascading into the sky.
Bennett watched her with wonder, the need to make her laugh like that every day of her life strong and powerful. When she quieted, he said, “What? It’s a legitimate question. When you say ‘buffet’ I think all-you-can eat.”
“It’s a piece of furniture,” Jennie said, still chuckling. “Mabel said you were going to build it, but my sculpture is now a collection of five pieces, and she wants to go over the design with you to make sure the buffet goes with my collection.”
“Oh, a fancy collection,” he teased. Since he hadn’t even given a second thought to the pieces he’d be building for Mabel, he said. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Do you have a design in mind?”
“Nope.” It was almost their turn to order. The number of people standing around with receipts didn’t comfort him, but Jennie wanted a hot dog, and so a hot dog she would get.
“What do you do all day?” she asked, a note of incredulity in her voice.
“Work out,” he said. “Run. Lift weights. Clean. Cook.”
“You cook?” Her eyebrows went up like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
“Well, I watch Charles cook. Or Ray. He’s actually really good on the grill.”
Jennie pressed her lips together, her opinion probably smashed behind them. But she didn’t say anything. Just curved those lips into a smile and nodded.
“Remember when your dad almost burnt down the house when he tried to fry a turkey?”
The memory surged forward, and his own laughter spilled from his mouth. “We had Thanksgiving at the pie shop that year. Everything tasted like pumpkin.”
“And you hate pumpkin.” Jennie tucked herself closer to his side as the teenagers in front of them completed their orders and turned around.
Bennett wanted to keep her there—right there against his ribs—for a lot longer than he got to last time. He leaned down and swept his lips across her temple, squeezing her waist for a quick moment before stepping up to the counter and ordering for them.
He catalogued this moment too, right here on the pier with her, hoping they’d be able to talk about these memories together over the next twenty years.
As he realized the permanence of his thoughts, he pulled back on the reins. Just because Jennie had uttered the word “boyfriend” didn’t mean she was ready to get married.
“How was the dress shop?” he asked as they stepped away with their receipt. “You never said.”
“It was….” She let her voice hang there, and Bennett waited too. She wouldn’t look at him but wandered down the pier a bit more, her eyes focused out on the horizon.
“I don’t know.” She leaned against the wooden railing, and Bennett stepped next to her.
“I bet it was hard. Being in a gown shop and all that.” He tried to make his voice nonassuming, compassionate.
“It was hard.”
“But you did it.”
“Yeah.” Several seconds passed with just the sound of the gulls and the waves, the dull roar of chatter from the people around them. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to go through that again.”
Bennett’s insides squeezed, tightening to the point of pain. “I know what you mean.”
She twisted toward him slightly. “Do you see yourself getting married again?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Jennie gave him a soft smile. “You’re not a great liar.”
He smiled and shook his head, deciding to be real with her. No games. “I got Gemma when Cynthia left. I decided then and there that I didn’t need a wife, or a girlfriend, or anything like that. I had a dog, and she’s always happy to see me. Always wants to lay by me. Always wants to play.”
“I got a cat.”
“Oh, cats are terrible.” He scoffed and threw her a playful look. “No companionship there. They just want you to
feed them.”
Jennie laughed again, but she didn’t disagree. “I probably should’ve gotten a dog.”
“You can get small dogs, you know.”
Jennie tucked herself back into Bennett’s side. “So I guess I just have one question.”
“Only one?”
“Very funny.”
“Go on then,” he said.
“If neither of us wants to get married, are we just playing pretend?”
Chapter Twelve
Jennie’s heart danced around in her chest as the seconds passed. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why had she said anything?
Because she liked him too much already, and if the possibility of her having to lace herself into another wedding dress was in her future, she needed to know now.
“I’m not playing pretend,” Bennett finally said, his voice thick and low. Husky. Beautiful. Sincere. “I’m not playing anything here.”
He hadn’t come right out and said he liked her, but she could feel it in his touch. See it in the way he looked at her. Taste it in the very sea air they both loved.
“Are you?” he asked, direct and to the point, as he’d always been.
“No,” she said, hearing his name called behind her. “That’s our food.”
“I’m not saying we have to get married next week,” he said.
“Good,” Jennie said. “Because even next summer would be a stretch.” She paused and looked at him. Right at him. “I don’t think either of us are ready for that.”
She continued walking to get her hot dog, her stomach practically eating itself. The first bite of French fry was salty and delicious, and Jennie moaned.
“No,” Bennett said as he loaded onions, ketchup, and mustard on his hot dog. “I’m not ready for that.”
“Right.” Jennie squirted ketchup and mustard on her dog too, bypassing everything else. “Because you thought you could be happy with a dog for the rest of your life.”
“Hey, plenty of people have dogs as companions.”
Jennie giggled and bit into her hot dog, another moan seeping through her throat. She chewed and swallowed and said, “I know, Bennett. But it speaks to your state of mind.”
And his wife had left seven years ago. Kyle had been out of the picture for seven months. Jennie felt slightly crazy even contemplating another relationship, but as Pepper had told her as they’d left the dress shop, He’s not Kyle. Don’t make him Kyle.
Jennie had been thinking about that a lot lately, and while she didn’t know everything, she did know she was happier when she saw Bennett and after she texted Bennett than before he’d re-entered her life.
“I’m in a fine state of mind,” he said.
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“Hm.” He found a bench and sat, scooting down to the end to make room for her. They ate with the glorious sunshine spilling over them, the sound of the waves hitting the shore, and the squeals of children playing in the ocean.
Jennie had always loved coming to the pier, and now she had this new experience with Bennett in the place she loved.
Of course, she had other memories with him here too, but she wanted grown-up ones. Not romanticized, teenage remembrances that felt like they’d happened in another lifetime, to a different person.
“You still doing puzzles?” she asked before taking another bite of her hot dog.
“You know what? I’m in between puzzles right now.” He cast her a sly look. “We can go look for one at the toy shop if you want.”
Warmth curled through her. “Only if you let me pick it.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no. I’ve done that before. That puzzle was a monster. It took me six months to finish.”
Jennie gave him a blank stare. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He didn’t even go on to explain.
“Don’t you have hours and hours to fill at the fire house?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“I’ve seen those memes, you know.” Jennie really liked this conversation, this easy flirting and back and forth. It felt like she could be herself with him in a way that didn’t take hardly any effort.
“What memes?”
“You know, how the firemen are all lying around compared to the cops.”
Bennett made an exploding noise with his mouth. “Those aren’t true, you know. We work just as hard as they do.”
“Really?” she challenged. “Working out, running, and cleaning. I don’t think the police department is doing that.”
“They give tickets for dumb things like having the taillight out in your car.” He twisted fully toward her. “You’re telling me a fix-it ticket is better than what I do?”
Jennie loved the semi-angry glint in his eye. “I honestly don’t know what you do. I asked you and you told me working out, running—”
“I know what I told you.” He stuffed the last of his hog dog in his mouth, and Jennie wondered if he was really angry.
She started laughing, only stopping to choke a little when a glob of ketchup slipped off the end of her bun and landed on her shirt.
“Smooth move,” Bennett said, a smirk on his face. “Serves you right for saying cops do more than firefighters.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re saying.” He handed her a napkin, but there was no way she could make this shirt presentable.
“How about you take me home so I can change, and then we’ll go to the game store over by Wedding Row?” Saying the words didn’t scorch her throat as hotly as she thought they would.
“You can barely see it.”
“I’m not wearing ketchup for the rest of the night.” She glanced around as if a ketchup patrol would slap cuffs on her and lead her away in shame. “Plus, you can see my collection.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her gaze caught on Bennett’s, and they both knew it was.
After all, Jennie didn’t normally let anyone into her studio. Or see her art until it was finished and set just so. Bennett knew this, and he stood and extended his hand toward her.
She slid her fingers along his as easily as she breathed, and she felt a layer of tension melt from her shoulders. So maybe she could envision herself with another man, wearing another white dress, in the far, far distant future.
Several minutes later, he pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. Jennie got out without waiting for him to come open her door, and she went up the steps first, her heartbeat rippling a little strangely.
A streak of white zipped down the hall when she stepped inside to the blessedly cool house. Behind her, Bennett sighed, and Jennie made a beeline for the hall. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” he said and she went in her bedroom and locked the door behind her. Pulling off the stained shirt, she exchanged it for a green one with a cartoon version of the Washington Hawthorn trees the town was named after.
“Snowball?” she said, but of course the cat didn’t make an appearance. “I’m going to close you in here.” Jennie wasn’t sure why she was speaking to the feline like it could understand her, but she didn’t want to just trap the cat in the bedroom without warning.
But Snowball didn’t come out, and Jennie did close the door behind her. Bennett was not waiting in the living room where she’d left him, nor the kitchen.
Jennie wiped her palms down her jean-clad thighs and stepped toward the art studio. Sure enough, Bennett’s tall, broad frame stood right in front of her collection, which now had four complete pieces waiting to be glazed.
“So the fifth will be twice as tall as this one,” she said, joining him in front of the table and indicating a tall, twisted pillar. “It won’t be as curved, as it’ll actually hold water and flowers.”
“They’re nice,” he said. “Tell me about them.” Bennett delicately traced one fingertip down the handmade ridges in the pillar, and Jennie imagined what his hands would feel like doing that down her shoulders, across her face, along
her cheekbone.
The temperature in the studio increased by ten degrees, and Jennie took an extra moment to center herself before she launched into the explanation of the collection, the color scheme she’d been planning, and how it had came to her mind.
Bennett seemed to be interested in her ramblings and didn’t say a word until she finished.
“They’re great.” He beamed at her, and the moment between them strengthened and lengthened.
Jennie’s pulse went wild and things that should’ve been warm turned cold.
He cleared his throat, the spark in his eyes not dulling even when he took a step away from her. “I’m not sure how you create in this mess, though.”
Instant heat shot through Jennie, anger as hot as anything she’d felt before. “Out,” she said, her guts quaking.
“It was a joke, Jennie.”
“This is why I don’t like people in my studio.” She turned and headed for the door, wishing she could unclench her fists and take back her outburst.
“Jennie, come on.” Bennett’s footsteps sounded behind her, but Jennie didn’t turn back. “It was—”
She silenced him by spinning back to him, and she felt dangerously close to losing it. She felt certain her eyes blazed pure lasers, because Bennett pressed his lips together, almost like he needed to physically keep himself from speaking.
“I am who I am,” she said.
“I know that. I like who you are.”
“I’m not going to change.” Jennie felt a measure of insanity enter her mind, and she took a deep, deep breath to push it out.
“I’m not asking you to change.” Bennett reached out and slid his hand down the side of her face, cradling her cheek in his palm. “Jennie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Jennie’s anger faded moment by moment until everything didn’t seem held behind a screen of red.
Bennett watched her, and she knew the moment she’d defused because he knew it too and she saw the recognition of it in his eyes.
“Kyle was constantly nagging me to keep my studio clean,” she said, the words a bit hollow even to her own ears.
Hawthorne Harbor Box Set Page 50
