Chapter 14
Fourteen
M ia pulled up in front of the bar. It was still early enough to manage a parking space in the lot itself, rather than on one of the streets nearby. After work, she’d gone home long enough to change clothes and make sure that Elizabeth had everything in hand for her mother.
Guilt gnawed at her. It seemed so wrong to be relieved to leave the house when her mother was stuck there, but it was a short reprieve, she reminded herself. Also, even though Bennett had said they were meeting to talk, it felt like a date, and she’d dressed accordingly. Now, the lacy camisole and skinny jeans with mile high heels seemed like poor form.
“Too late to reconsider,” she muttered aloud. “You’re already here, so suck it up.”
Climbing out of the rental car and reminding herself that at some point she had to go out and shop for a new car for herself, something she dreaded worse than dental work, she headed into the bar.
“ID?”
Mia dug through her tiny purse and produced her driver’s license, which the doorman gave a cursory glance at. It would have been a little more flattering if he’d looked a little harder.
“Ten bucks,” he said.
Mia dug out a bill for the cover and then presented her right hand for the wristband.
“Need your left,” he practically grunted.
She held up her cast. “Then you’re going to need another one of those. One won’t fit.”
He grunted again and fastened the day-glow green band around her right wrist and waved her inside. Bennett was easy enough to spot once she was inside. He was seated at the bar, a beer in hand, and every female eye was trained on him. There might have only been ten women in the club early as it was, but every one of them had her eyes on him.
Letting her eyes travel over his long, denim-clad legs, the dress shirt that either Savannah or his mother must have bought for him, because he would never have chosen one that fit so well, and further up to his face, she stopped in her tracks. Every woman was watching him, but he was watching her.
The warmth of that soaked into her and she was greedy for it. After a moment, when it was obvious to every woman present just who he had been waiting for, only then did she step forward.
As she approached him, Bennett’s smile shifted into a knowing smirk. “You do like to make an entrance,” he said.
It wasn’t an accusation she could deny. Instead, she just proved his point by leaning in, pressing her body against his and letting her lips hover just above his for a moment. Every eye in the bar was on them.
“And you like to be salivated over by coeds who were chugging screw top wine in their dorm rooms before they got to the bar,” she shot back, but there was no heat in it, just easy humor. Her life might be a mess, her future was a bleak and depressing void, but there was one thing she was utterly certain of. He wanted her, no matter what.
“Is that why you came? Just to bust my balls?”
Mia kissed him then, just a quick, hard press of her lips to his. It was enough. She straightened, but kept her hand on his chest. It was a heady thing to touch him, to know that she could. “I have other plans for your balls, but they can wait,” she answered and signaled the bartender for a drink.
“Well, that’s a thought that’s not going to leave me alone anytime soon,” he replied and took a long pull from his beer.
Mia watched him from the corner of her eye, the play of muscles beneath the rolled back cuff of his shirt sleeve, the way his lips cradled the lip of the bottle. She was jealous of the damn beer.
“So, I could be at home, braless and in yoga pants, but I’m here instead. Why?”
“For the pleasure of my company,” he replied. “And also because I talked to Matt today.”
The bartender walked over. Mia ordered a whiskey and ginger. In a college bar, quality spirits were in short supply. Whiskey was a fine thing to mix with other substances, but polluting bourbon was just wrong. Once the drink was in front of her, she sipped it and frowned. “What did he have to say?”
Bennett placed his phone on the counter in front of her, the picture of Erica and her yet unknown friend on the screen. “Do you know her?”
“I think I do, but I can’t—did we go to school with her?”
“If we did, she would have been ahead of us. She’s pushing thirty in that pic and it’s from a few years back.”
“Erica is thirty-three. She’s a little long in the tooth for Samuel, and according to Clayton, he’s already shopping for a replacement.”
Bennett nodded. “Sounds about right. This woman, whoever she is, has to be connected to Fontaine in some way. Matt, you, and I have all said she looks familiar, but none of us can remember why.”
“Maybe it’s not Fontaine that’s the connection. You remember what it was like in high school. We’d meet up with the kids from Sayre or Lexington Catholic. All those parties on the river?”
“I remember those parties very well. That was the first time I ever got up the nerve to talk to you,” he replied.
She smiled, thinking about how utterly beautiful he’d been with a sweet, shy smile on his too pretty face. “It took you long enough. I’d been putting myself in your path for three damned weeks.”
“So, Matt mentioned something today that I think bears considering.”
“I’m not going to like it, am I?” she asked, and took another sip of her slightly watered down drink.
“What if you’re not the target, but the instrument?”
“I don’t follow,” she replied with a frown.
“Your daddy inspires a lot of feelings in people. Hatred. Envy. Admiration for those who don’t know him well. And fear. He enjoys the abuse of power.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“All of this…hiding in a vehicle, watching, stalking. I think whoever did this is probably a woman scorned,” he stated.
She considered it, and then nodded. It made sense. “I’d go along with that.”
“It could be someone your dad blew off. It could also be Quentin. Or Clayton.”
“Not Clayton,” she replied instantly. “He’s focused on other things right now and even if he wasn’t, the only woman on his mind is the one who left him.”
“Imagine that. Your brother and I do have something in common.”
Her only response to that was a baleful stare.
“Right,” he said. “Moving on. So Quentin and your father is where we need to look?”
“I’ll just ask Quentin,” she said. “He’ll be at the house on Sunday for dinner.”
“What are you going to ask him, ‘Oh, by the way, dated and dumped any psychotic, murdering bitches lately?’”
“Can’t hurt.” Glancing around at the bar, she realized that ten-dollar cover or not, it wasn’t worth being there. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“I’ve never seen Loralei’s shop,” she said. “We always meet at the house because of Mama, or she’ll come by the distillery sometimes and bring me lunch. I want to see what she’s done for herself.”
Bennett threw a bill on the bar to cover their tab. “Can you walk in those heels?”
“Yes. Or I can take them off and go barefoot. It’s practically summer outside even though we’re a week from Thanksgiving.”
“You’re not going barefoot. There’s enough busted glass on those sidewalks to kill a man. And while I’m not opposed to carrying you, it is about six blocks from here.”
“Fine. But I’m finishing my drink and you’re driving,” she said.
“I’d never stand between a woman and her whiskey,” he responded.
Ten minutes later, they were parked on the street in front of Loralei’s shop. Opening the door for Mia, he helped her out of the truck and wondered how the hell she wasn’t breaking her neck in those damned high heels. Of course, they did amazing things for her legs, and for her ass, both of which were pretty damned amazing to start with.
“This is gorgeous,” she said, eyeing the window display. “I knew it would be. She’s always had an eye for this sort of thing. She’s like Savannah that way.”
It was an easy comparison to make and there was definitely a similar aesthetic, he thought, considering the shabby chic vibe that the shop exuded. Realizing that the words ‘shabby chic’ had sprung, unbidden, to his mind, Bennett hung his head.
“I have got to spend more time with Emmitt and get the hell away from Savannah for a while.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“Just quietly saying goodbye to my man card.”
She laughed. “I missed you. I missed this. I mean don’t get me wrong—hot, mind blowing, earth shattering, my thighs tremble for a day afterward, sex is all fantastic and wonderful, but you always made me laugh, Bennett, and I don’t seem to do a whole lot of that anymore.”
Bennett didn’t say anything for the longest time. He just looked at her and could see the deep unhappiness inside her. Mia left him for reasons she wouldn’t share, but there was no doubt in his mind that it hadn’t been what she wanted. Somewhere along the way, someone, and he had a good idea who it had been, had convinced her that she had no other choice.
“You used to laugh,” he mused. “You used to sit in the front seat of that old Buick while I drove down winding roads like a bat out of hell. You’d throw your head back and laugh like you weren’t ever going to stop.”
“Some of the happiest moments of my life were spent in that car,” she said, walking past him to look at the other display window.
“I forgot to give you something. It’s in the truck.”
She laughed again. “That’s a likely story.”
He laughed at that himself. “Seriously. It’s from Loralei. She gave it to me when I was in town.”
Mia turned to him, and while her expression was fairly neutral, he could see the panic in her eyes. “You told her about us?”
He raised his hands. “Do not give me that look. Tonight is not for picking fights. And, no. I did not. But hell, Mia, it shows on both of us. Do you think anybody can walk around feeling what you and I feel for each other inside them and not have it show?”
“And what is it exactly?” she asked. “What do we feel for each other, Bennett?”
He shook his head and turned to face the window. “I’m not doing that. I’m not pouring my heart out to you when we both know this isn’t going to last. I know what I feel. I know it’ll hurt when you’re gone. That’s all you’re getting from me.”
“You’re right,” she said. “We shouldn’t be fighting. If we’re smart, we wouldn’t even be near one another, but I don’t really want to be smart.”
“Then what do you want?” he asked, half afraid to hear the answer.
“I want to be that girl again,” she said softly. “The one who throws her head back and laughs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
“I don’t have a Buick anymore. Think my truck will do?” he offered.
“If you’ve got a sleeping bag to throw in the bed of it, I know this spot down by the river—there’s even an old spring house there,” she said cheekily.
“I can probably come up with something.”
Across the street, the doors to a restaurant opened, the sound of music and laughter spilling out into the street. Mia glanced over at the same time he did. Bennett heard her gasp and felt his heart sink. Samuel Darcy was exiting the restaurant, a blonde on his arm who was probably a couple of years younger than Mia.
She tugged at his hand. “We have to go before he sees us!”
It shouldn’t have hurt. He’d known it was coming, he just hadn’t expected it to be so quick. “Get in the truck,” he said softly.
Mia did as he suggested, moving quickly and silently on those killer heels as she could. He walked behind her, realizing that was where he’d always be. As she climbed into the passenger side, she kept her gaze averted from the street. Hiding. Hiding because she couldn’t allow herself to be seen with him.
The truth of it was uglier than he’d thought it would be. Closing the door behind her, he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed behind the wheel. The drive back to the bar and her waiting rental car was short and silent.
“I feel like I did something wrong,” she finally said.
“We’ve both been doing something wrong. I just don’t get to lie to myself about it anymore,” he answered.
“Bennett, it’s not?—”
“This wasn’t your dad doesn’t approve of me, Mia. This was you hiding like you were ashamed to be seen with me.”
“There’s nothing shameful about being with you, but things are just so complicated with Samuel. He has the power, Bennett, I don’t. Not yet,” she admitted tearfully.
It hurt him to see her cry, to see her need something that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—give her. But every time she hid like that, every time she reminded him that he was just a momentary distraction from her self-enforced prison, it ate at him. He was giving too much of himself, too much of his pride, and whether it was wrong or not, he couldn’t keep doing that.
He took a deep breath, and started speaking words that would alter everything. “I had this thought the other night, sneaking into your room, that I wasn’t sure how long I could tolerate feeling like your dirty secret. I just figured it out.”
“Bennett, don’t! Not like this.”
“I can’t do this, Mia. I could, actually. But I don’t think I’d like myself much at the end of it, and oddly enough, that’s important to me.”
She hit him. Her balled-up fist slammed into his shoulder. There wasn’t enough force behind it to hurt, but it certainly startled him. “You’re doing this just to get even with me! All this was just some elaborate plan so that you could finally be the one to walk away!” she accused.
He looked at her steadily and let the ridiculousness of that accusation settle around them. “That’s not who I am. You know that. Right now, I still want you. But not a piece. Not a stolen part. Not what’s left after all the appearances have been kept up. It’s all or nothing for me, and you’re not ready for that.”
“I can’t…you don’t understand!” she cried.
“Then make me. What hold does he have on you, Mia? What is this power that he has over you when you are a grown woman?” he demanded. It surprised him how quickly the hurt could turn to anger, how quickly he wanted to lash out at her and make her feel the same thing he was.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, wiping her tears away. “None of it matters.”
“It does . And if you ever figure that out, you know where to find me. But I’m not just going to sit there waiting for you. I’ve lived without you long enough to know that I can do it forever if I have to.”
“On to the next one then? We’re interchangeable? You’re as bad he is,” she said, throwing out the most hateful thing she could in his direction.
“That isn’t true. And it’s a hell of an accusation to make.”
“Don’t expect an apology. I can’t. Not right now,” she said, and that was as close to an admission of guilt or wrongdoing from her as he’d get. Under other circumstances, it would have made him smile. At the moment, it just made him hurt for her, for them both. Her pride and her secrets would cost them both what they needed most.
“You asked me earlier to tell you what we felt for each other. I’d call it love, but that’s just a shadow,” he said softly, his voice quiet in the cab of the truck. Her breath caught and she looked at him with tears streaming down her face and he saw the vulnerability in her, the loneliness that she had the power to end. He continued, “It’s consuming. Needy. Mean, sometimes. I don’t have the words…but that’s as close as I can get.”
“Bennett—” She stopped. Either unable or unwilling to say whatever was poised there on the tip of her tongue. He would have shaken her if he thought it would have done any good, but that would just be something else for him to have to live with.
Climbing out of the truck, he walked around and opened the door. Opening the glove box, he pulled out the little gift-wrapped box from Loralei and pressed it into her hands. For what he imagined would be the last time, he held the door for her as she climbed down to the pavement. “I’ll send word to you if Matt finds anything else.”
Bennett waited until she was in her car, waited until he saw her driving down the street, her movements precise and sharp. She was hurt, but she wouldn’t fall apart. That wasn’t her thing.
“Fuck it all,” he murmured and headed back into the bar. A gallon of whiskey ought to cut it.