Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3)

by Whitney Dineen

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know my dad’s parents and my mom’s both died when I was in college. You’re lucky yours are still around.”

  “I am. I just wish I saw them more often.”

  “Why don’t you move back to Florida?” he asks while opening the door leading to the hallway.

  “I love New York,” I tell him while following behind. “Plus, I figure I’ll probably move back to Miami when I have kids. I want my children to grow up around lots of family.”

  “That’s a nice thought.” He sounds pensive.

  We remain quiet, both of us ostensibly lost in our own thoughts until we are back on the first floor. We follow signs for the restaurant and a hostess leads us out onto a patio that looks out onto a tropical courtyard. She sets our menus down at a table for two in the corner, then lights the candle on the table, and tells us our server will be right with us. I stare around at the palm trees swaying against the darkening sky and breathe in the scent of tropical air. This would be really romantic if I weren’t here with a man who can’t stand the sight of me.

  The waiter shows up as the hostess leaves. “Good evening. Can I get you a drink to start off with?”

  Ben nods. “Yes, please. I’m thinking of getting a Corona.” Glancing at me, he adds, “Unless you want to split a bottle of wine.”

  “You have beer. I’m all about the piña coladas when I’m in Florida,” I tell him.

  The waiter, whose name tag says Ricardo, tells us he’ll be right back with our drinks, then leaves us alone again.

  Ben gives me a little grin. “Piña colada? Is that a Libra thing or a girl missing her home state thing?”

  I stare at him for a second, wondering if he’s making fun of me, but the look on his face is relaxed and … well, almost teasing, so I decide he’s being sincere. “What if I said both?”

  “I’d say that makes sense.”

  “You’re a nice man, Ben,” I tell him before I can think better of it.

  He looks up from his menu with a look of total surprise. “That’s a first.”

  “I know it might seem that I love arguing with you, and while you definitely do make me crazy with your rigid views of science, you’re also a really good guy. I first suspected it when I saw you with Charley, but today confirmed it. I don’t think most men would have agreed to sleep with my grandfather.”

  He shrugs. “What other choice did I have?”

  “You could have sent them back to Miami,” I tell him.

  “I’d have to be pretty heartless to do that. Especially after they drove all this way to see you.”

  “But still. It’s not your problem and you’re here for work, so it would have been understandable.”

  “If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s to roll with the punches,” he says, sitting back in his chair.

  “Is that because of your father taking off?”

  “Among other things,” he says with a sigh. “My father wasn’t the last loser my mom fell in love with, to be honest. And each one left her worse off than she was before. It didn’t make for the most stable of childhoods.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, imagining him as a much smaller version of himself — still with glasses, maybe in Star Wars jammies that are a little too short for his long legs. Suddenly, I have a clear view of why he has such a crusty exterior. “That must have been a rough way to grow up.”

  He waves off my pity. “It was a long time ago and I’m a better man for having gone through it.”

  “How so?”

  “Because I’ve learned to read people, which has been exceedingly valuable in life,” Ben says with a firm nod. “Also, I do my best to protect my mom from similar situations, even though it’s difficult now that I live so far away.”

  “Where is she?” I ask, realizing I don’t know anything about the man who’s about to spend the night with my abuelo.

  “Astoria, Oregon. Where I grew up.”

  The waiter comes by with our drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

  Ben looks slightly surprised at the question. “We completely forgot to open our menus.”

  “No worries,” Ricardo says. “I’ll come back in a few.”

  The entire time we study our menus, my body is feeling all sorts of light, airy, wonderfully happy feelings. I have to fight the urge to lean across the table and slip my fingers through Ben’s. Those are some manly hands. The kind I wouldn’t mind feeling on my skin. Actually, I wouldn’t mind sliding in next to him and crawling onto his lap.

  Ben snaps me out of my reveries by closing his menu and saying, “I’m going for the cheeseburger and fries. I figure after surviving the ride from the airport, I should let myself indulge.”

  I wince a little, then chuckle. “Abuelo’s friends call him Mario Andretti Lopez.”

  “About that. I don’t think your grandfather should be allowed to drive anymore. Not just for his sake, but for the welfare of everyone else on the road.”

  “To be fair, he’s driven like that ever since I was a kid and he’s never been in an accident.”

  “That’s astonishing. But maybe your grandmother should take over.”

  “I don’t think so,” I tell him. “Abuela has been the cause of three accidents. When she went to have her license renewed, they made her take a driving test and they refused to pass her.”

  The look on his face is one of concern. “Let’s make sure we do all the driving while we’re here. Maybe we should rent a car.”

  A wave of admiration washes over me. “That’s really kind of you, Ben.”

  “It’s nothing anyone who doesn’t want to die wouldn’t do,” he answers with a wry smile. Then, he lifts his beer and says, “A toast — may you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live.” We each have a sip of our drinks and then Ben says, “I heard that the other night at a crazy little Irish pub.”

  “Sounds like a fun place.”

  “It was. We should go sometime.” He looks slightly panicked, then says, “I mean … if we needed to have another work meeting or something.”

  “Right. I knew what you meant,” I say, feeling totally disappointed he didn’t mean it as a date.

  A crazy thought pops into my head that shakes me to the core. Ben Williams is a super sweet Gemini man which, astrologically speaking, is a really good match for me. The truth is that I find him enormously attractive, and now that I see how nice he is with my grandparents, I’m even more sold on him. Could something happen between me and Ben? Is it possible that he might be interested in me too?

  Twenty-Six

  Ben

  I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, listening to the jackhammer-like snoring coming from my bedmate. I don’t think he’s gotten up since we left for dinner because he’s still in his underwear, out cold on top of the covers. It’s late and I should be tired after such a long day and three beers over a lingering dinner with Serafina, but I’m not. I’m absolutely wired right now.

  Between the stench and the snoring, there’s no way I can sleep in the same room as Serafina’s grandfather. I grab my overnight bag and take it into the bathroom, then I have a quick shower and brush my teeth, doing my best to be as quiet as possible. (Although Lorenzo probably can’t hear anything over the sound emanating from his throat.)

  Sneaking over to the bed, I get my pillow. In the hall, I see a small closet, which has blankets and extra pillows in it. I grab a couple of blankets to make myself a bed on the living room floor. I’m pretty sure I haven’t slept on the ground since I was a kid, and while it won’t be comfortable, at least it’ll be quiet.

  As soon as I stretch out, my mind starts to swirl with thoughts of Serafina. I hate to admit it, but I was thoroughly enjoying her nap on the airplane. The warmth and the smell of her was absolutely mesmerizing. The day’s events click through my brain like photos on a slideshow and each one is of her smiling or laughing.

  Nuts. I have feelings for her. Real ones. Which is not at all convenient beca
use not only are we work colleagues, we’re also polar opposites when it comes to our very core beliefs. I cannot let myself entertain the thought of anything happening between us. Even if she is one of the loveliest women I’ve ever met. It’s just that our verbal sparring is … well … it’s like foreplay. Maria wasn’t wrong about the spark between us. We’re like gasoline and a match.

  I grab my phone off the coffee table to distract myself and see I have a few messages waiting.

  Mom: Hi, Peanut, how was your flight? Are you checked into your hotel? Love you!

  * * *

  Alec: So? How’s it going in mecca? Did you go straight to Kennedy or are you waiting for tomorrow? Also, anything happening with you and Serafina? Sometimes those tropical locations can really get women in the mood, if you know what I mean…

  * * *

  Gwen: Hi Ben, I hope you’re having a great trip. I just wanted to thank you for agreeing to come with me to the party. My aunt has already sent me a photo of her chiropractor and … yikes. Top knot and scraggly beard. You’re totally my hero.

  I’m about to answer when I notice some movement down the hall. I lift my head up and see Serafina coming toward me with a pillow. She’s dressed in a nightgown that cuts off just above her knees and she’s got a sleeping mask resting on her forehead. She stops short when she sees me. “Oh, darn. You beat me to it.”

  “Does Maria snore too?”

  “It’s like someone’s sawing down a redwood in there.” She shifts awkwardly before saying, “I’ll see if I can get her to turn over. I don’t want to crowd you.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I tell her. “You can share the floor if you like. I emptied out the closet to build my little nest here.” Suddenly I realize I’m basically asking her to sleep with me. “Or you can take the love seat? Or take some of the blankets and make your own bed somewhere … or you can have this one and I can go somewhere else?” I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Serafina holds back a laugh. “It’s okay, Ben. I’m not going to think you’re some sort of player who’s trying to get me into bed.”

  “Good because I’m not in any way a player,” I tell her. “Also, I have no interest in sleeping with you. None at all.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “Glad we got that cleared up,” she says, walking over and dropping her pillow next to mine.

  “Good, yes, me too,” I tell her, trying not to watch her as she lowers herself onto the floor and tucks herself in.

  Holy protons, for all practical purposes, Serafina and I are in bed together, and I’m in nothing more than my boxers. I should have at least worn a T-shirt, but I can’t stand to sleep in one. Also, I wasn’t expecting company. But I definitely have company now. I’m in bed with a beautiful, highly intelligent woman, and my whole body responds to the thought.

  I risk a glance and see that Serafina’s curled up with her back to me, creating a rather alluring outline in the moonlight. A wave of longing, so strong it rivals the kind you feel as a teenager, comes over me. What was I doing before she got here? Oh, yeah, I was about to text that dentist person back. What’s her name again?

  Oh, God, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because I clearly can’t string her along when I’m having feelings for another woman. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling fan as it slowly spins above my head, telling myself to just go to sleep. Nothing is going to happen, nor should it for many good reasons. Albeit none of which I can think of at the moment.

  I should make a list of all the reasons we shouldn’t pursue a relationship with one another. That should help focus my attention on something other than how good she smells.

  Number one: Her grandparents went to sleep at six p.m., which means they’ll likely be up for breakfast in about, what? An hour? What if one of them catches us and has a heart attack and dies?

  Good, Ben. Thinking about old people having heart attacks is not sexy. Keep that up.

  Number two: The whole colleague thing. Our situation is complicated enough. I don’t need to add to it.

  Number three: She believes in astrology. That should probably have been number one, really, now that I think about it …

  Two hours later, I’m still wide awake, listening to the calming rhythm of Serafina’s breathing. It’s so hypnotic it should have lulled me right to sleep, but after thinking of twenty-nine reasons we shouldn’t date (to be honest, twenty-four of them were pretty lame, like “she may not even like cats”), she rolled over and slung her leg over my midsection and her arm over my chest. She’s been snuggled against me for a long time, while I lie here facing the awful truth. I’m quite possibly in love with this woman. Deeply, ridiculously, horribly, wonderfully, nonsensically in love with her. And I can’t think of anything worse.

  Twenty-Seven

  Serafina

  I’m having the most arousing dream I’ve ever had in my life. Like, I can totally feel the guy next to me and smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. In my fantasy, my arms and legs are wrapped around him like he’s a tree and I’m a bear trying to climb him. I’m fully invested in this amazing sensation, when I hear, “Um, Serafina …”

  Oh my, the guy I’m trying to climb is Ben! If I were conscious, I totally wouldn’t let myself go there, but because this is a dream, all reticence is off the table. Even though I’ve got the hots for my co-host but would never come on to him in real life, he never has to know what I dream about. “Ben …” I purr in response. Then I find his earlobe with my teeth and give it a playful tug.

  His neck smells warm and spicy. I feel my body move, so I’m straddling him, giving me better access. The groan beneath me affirms that Dream Ben is just as into this as I am. Suddenly, I’m so hot it feels like flames are licking at me. Reaching down, I grab the hem of my nightgown and pull it over my head. Woohoo, I am about to have the most realistic sex dream ever!

  That is until somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, I hear, “Ride that bull!”

  Is that my abuela? Gah, the craziness of dreams never ceases to amaze me. As I try to ignore the cheers from the peanut gallery, I hear my grandfather scream, “Dios mio! I’m blind!”

  The body I’m pinning to the ground jolts upright and I’m thrown to the side with a sharp thud. Ow, I don’t like this dream anymore. I force my eyes open, hoping the pain in my elbow will stop once I’m awake.

  I am a person of many words. I’m a talker, an engager of people. As a rule, I love to be the center of attention. That all changes as soon as I see Ben and both of my grandparents staring at me. Holy hell, I wasn’t dreaming, I was in fact in the process of “tapping that” with an audience. There are no words. None.

  Yet, when no one says anything, I feel the need to explain, “I was dreaming.”

  Abuela is nodding her head, shrugging her eyebrows, and winking all at the same time. If I didn’t know her better, I would guess she was having a stroke. “I’ll move in with your abuelo tonight and you two can have a real bed.”

  “Abuela, I was dreaming.”

  My grandfather makes the sign of the cross and mutters, “Jesus, Maria, and José! What is this world coming to?”

  Ben is oddly quiet next to me. I turn to him as the heat of extreme embarrassment consumes me. “I’m sorry, I was dreaming,” I repeat again like this will somehow magically make the whole scene less embarrassing.

  It doesn’t.

  With a blanket clutched to my chest, I turn to my grandparents and suggest, “If you could leave for a minute, I’ll put myself together here.”

  “We’ll go down for breakfast,” Abuela says. Then she grabs my grandfather’s hand and drags him away.

  Once they’re gone, I repeat, “I am so sorry.”

  Instead of accepting my apology, and pretending this horrible thing never happened, Ben merely says, “I’m not.”

  Wait, what?

  “In fact,” he continues, “Now that your grandparents are gone, I’d be happy to
let you go back to sleep and continue your fantasy.”

  Is Ben Williams flirting with me? “I, um, well …”

  He takes me off the hook. “I’m just kidding. Why don’t we get up and grab breakfast ourselves? I’d love to have some time at the Space Center before my first meeting starts.”

  With the blanket still wrapped around me, I answer, “Oh, yeah, sure …” It’s like the articulation police have come and revoked my use of the English language.

  “Go on,” he says.

  “You go first,” I tell him. “I’m a little, you know, naked.”

  “I’m not really in any shape to be walking around myself.” His eyes roam to his lower half.

  “Oh!” This could not be any more awkward. “Close your eyes,” I tell him, “and I’ll make a run for it.”

  “You don’t have to run.” Is he being funny or flirty?

  “Close your eyes,” I repeat. Then I jump up and dash down the hall to the room I was supposed to be sharing with my grandmother. Once I’m safely inside with the door closed, I let myself relive what almost took place. While horribly embarrassed that my grandparents walked in on us, I’m not in the least bit upset by what almost happened.

  While taking a shower, I let myself peruse the idea of me and Ben as a couple. Clearly, we like each other and are attracted to each other. The only problem on my end is that he thinks astrology is a complete hoax. And being that astrology is what I do, can I really be with someone who thinks I’m a charlatan?

  My grandparents come back to the room before Ben and I are ready to leave. I’m in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee when they walk in. I offer, “Again, I’m so sorry about this morning,” I start to say when my grandmother waves me off.

  “Please. I’m sorry we disturbed you.”

  “Do you guys want to go to NASA with us today?” I ask, thinking that the best way to move on from this is to pretend it never happened.