Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
For a moment, he says nothing, and just as I’m about to open my mouth to tell him I’m ending the call—
“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. Tell you what. I don’t have a lot on my calendar today. Why don’t I come get you, we’ll go have some lunch, and I’ll let you know what’s going on with the parties? I have to get the final details to the resort by tomorrow. I’d say we could handle it via a phone call, but I want to show you some photos.”
The parties are this weekend. Invitations have already gone out. Skye handled them for the bachelorette party because she knew who she wanted to invite. Braden is footing the bill for everything. Still, it will be small. Skye, Betsy, me, a woman named Kathy Harmon who used to date Ben’s father and remained friends with Skye, and her other bridesmaid, Daniela Cruise.
So far as I know, they’ve all RSVPed yes.
Why wouldn’t they? An all-expense-paid trip to Jamaica? No-brainer. Old Tessa would be loving this. She’d be listening to reggae and shopping for bikinis.
I sigh into the phone. “Yeah, sure. Let’s have lunch.” Why not? He seems like a nice guy, and I’m unemployed. I may as well take the free meal.
“I’ll be by around noon to pick you up,” Ben says. “Just watch for Sherlock.”
“Fine.”
This time, my skin doesn’t prickle at the thought of seeing Ben. I have no reason to fear him. Sherlock drove me home Friday night and nothing happened. Ben saw me to my door, even helped me take Rita out, and nothing happened.
Funny. A year ago, if I’d lost my job, I’d be devastated.
Today I don’t even feel it.
…
I sit across from Ben in a booth at a local diner.
I try not to look at him, but my gaze keeps getting drawn to his face. To his warm brown eyes.
The whole world knows his reputation as a ladies’ man, but his eyes… They seem so kind and comforting. As if you could tumble into them and land safely.
Part of me wants to lose myself in them.
And that feeling? It scares me.
It scares me how attractive I find him.
And it scares me that I’m not more scared.
“The Reuben is great here,” Ben says, perusing his menu.
“I’m not a fan of sauerkraut.”
He peeks over the top of his menu. “What kind of food do you like?”
“Normally I eat most anything. But lately I’ve been living on bacon and ice cream.”
He laughs then, and it’s a joyful sound. It’s not forced, and it’s perfect. I made him laugh. Granted, I didn’t mean to, but I’m glad I did.
And I’m glad that I’m glad. Which is strange, but why fight it? It’s okay to feel glad. It’s a good thing.
“It’s time you had a decent meal, then,” he says.
“You’re probably right.” I glance at the offerings.
“They make a solid burger here. My favorite is the black-and-blue burger.”
“I don’t like blue cheese.”
He laughs again. “Tessa, you just told me you eat pretty much anything, but we’ve already eliminated sauerkraut and blue cheese.”
“Yeah. But not bacon or ice cream.”
“If you tell me you don’t eat oysters, you may break my heart.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m a Bostonian. I love oysters.”
I listen to the sound of my voice. Those words were more animated than I’ve sounded in months. Maybe losing my job and going out to lunch with Ben Black wasn’t such a bad thing.
Ben smiles. “I should’ve taken you to the Union Oyster House. Braden and I have a standing date there each week. Did you know it’s the oldest restaurant in Boston and even claims to be the oldest restaurant in continuous service in the United States?”
“Uh…yeah. I grew up here too, remember? I also know Daniel Webster and JFK were big fans.”
“Make fun of me if you want, but Braden and I love the place. It epitomizes the American dream. We usually sit at the bar and listen to Charlie, Tony, and the other shuckers tell stories. Once Mickey—he’s retired now—invited us behind the bar and taught us how to shuck. It’s a lot harder than they make it look.”
“Fascinating.”
I’m not trying to be rude, but I thought we were here to talk about the parties.
And now I feel bad that I was belittling his interest in oysters—which is better than feeling numb, but still, I should say something more. “I’ve never sat at the oyster bar.”
“That settles it,” Ben says. “You and I. Tonight. Union Oyster House. We have a date to sit at the oyster bar.”
You and I.
Date.
My skin tingles.
Not in a good way.
But also not in a bad way.
I find myself wanting to smile, and I do. With my eyes, even though I’m not sure it reaches my lips.
Chapter Six
Ben
I want to make this woman happy.
I don’t have a clue why, but I do. I know she’s been through some shit. Who hasn’t? I’ve been through shit of my own, but this is a woman who—according to Skye—used to love life. Used to live in the moment, smell the roses, and live life to the fullest every day. Let her hair down.