Chapter 5
Tristan
Aside from postponing my date with Mike after Bella needed me, he’d had to cancel twice due to work commitments. Our date was well overdue, and I’d been looking forward to it all day. But now I was here, I kinda wished we’d postponed again.
Better yet, canceled it altogether.
It wasn’t the fact that Mike could barely drag his attention away from his phone long enough to hold a conversation with me, nor that he seemed to know everyone at Charlie’s, and kept interrupting me any time I spoke, so he could say hello to his friends.
The reason I wished I was anywhere but at the table with him was because a grumpy, surly asshole had taken up residence in my brain. Ben had been there from the minute I met him, but after yesterday, he had been front and center of all of my thoughts.
I kept replaying our interaction and how he’d reacted. When I jokingly accused him of flirting with me, he’d been furious enough to wrap his hand around my throat, but he hadn’t been able to hide the glint of heat in his dark eyes.
I’d purposefully not allowed myself to acknowledge the bulge in his pants when I was on my knees, screwing the hinges into place, but you’d better believe I let myself think about it when I was alone in my bed.
Then, when I told him I was going on a date, I could have sworn there was more than a hint of jealousy in his tone.
Maybe it was wishful thinking. Not that I’d want to get involved with the man any more than I already was.
He might have been too good-looking for words, but he had the personality of a garbage truck.
He was definitely not someone I could ever be with, and that was if he was even into guys, which I doubted.
He didn’t seem to be into anyone.
Pushing him out of my head, I focused my attention on Mike, who was mid-conversation about the importance of investing in stocks and shares—something I knew nothing about, and had zero interest in learning.
He stopped chattering away when yet another guy stopped at our table, and Mike stood to greet him.
“I’m going to get us some more drinks,” I said after Mike had introduced me to his friend.
“Oh, great. I’ll have another white wine.”
I rolled my eyes as I disappeared through the crowd.
I’d always thought I was a generous guy, and I didn’t give to receive, but this would be the third round of drinks I’d bought.
My savings were already beginning to look quite depleted, thanks to the money I was putting into fixing up McScroodge’s house; surely it wouldn’t have killed Mike to offer to buy one round?
Sighing, I almost made it to the bar when a lonesome figure sitting at a booth in the far corner caught my attention. He was the last person I expected to see in Charlie’s, let alone on a busy Friday night.
Detouring from the bar, Ben’s head whipped up when my shadow fell across his table.
A scowl formed on his face as his gaze raked over my polo shirt and jeans.
He was wearing one of his customary suits, only he’d ditched the jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt that showed muscles hidden underneath.
“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here,” I beamed, amusement lighting my tone. “Of all the bars in town, what brings you here?”
He took a mouthful of his beer, the foam coating his top lip, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from dropping to his mouth when his tongue came out to swipe it. “Felt like a beer. Didn’t know I needed your approval to come here.
I shrugged. “Free country. Anyone sitting here?” I asked, nodding to the empty seat opposite him.
“I thought you were on a date,” he replied, watching as I slid into the booth even though he hadn’t permitted me.
“I am.”
Ben’s gaze shifted, and I followed his line of sight, smirking when I realized he had the perfect view of the table I’d been at with Mike.
Interesting.
“Your date is a guy?” he said, returning his cold eyes to me.
My body tensed. I had no problem being open about my sexuality, but I’d experienced my fair share of homophobia over the years. It wasn’t something I particularly wanted to experience again, and not from Ben, who could make the rest of the month very fucking difficult for me.
I nodded, refusing to look away from him. “Yeah, is that a problem?”
One of his brows quirked. “That you’re on a date with a guy?”
“That I’m gay.”
He held my stare for a whole ten seconds—I knew because I counted—before he took another sip of his beer. “Why would it be a problem?”
I relaxed a little. His tone held no indifference to how he usually spoke to me. “Some people have a problem with it.”
“That’s ‘cos people are assholes.” He glowered as he looked around the bar, and not for the first time, I wondered what he’d experienced to be so bitter toward the world.
“Not everyone,” I replied, shrugging. “Sure, there are some assholes, but there are some pretty decent people out there, too. You just have to find your people and ignore the haters.”
The tiniest hint of a grin pulled at his lips. “Easy as that, right, Bug?”
“Yep.” When his only response was to sigh, I asked, “What are you really doing here, Ben?”
His eyes met mine across the table at my use of his name for the first time, and he visibly swallowed. “Told you, I wanted a quiet beer.”
Something in my gut told me he was lying, but I couldn’t ignore the dismissal of his tone. The conversation was over whether I wanted it to be or not. “Right. In that case, I’ll get back to my date and leave you to enjoy your quiet beer.”
I slid out of the booth, frustrated with myself. Every damn conversation with this man made me more intrigued about him, but only left me with more questions. I suppose I would just have to accept that he didn’t want to let anyone past the walls he’d clearly spent his life building.
Besides, what did it matter? In less than a month, I wouldn’t have to see him again, and he would once more become the faceless boss who was working my dad into an early grave.
About to head to the bar, I paused when Ben called. “Bug.”
I turned back, and I don’t know why, but a pang of hope speared me. Hope for what, though? I didn’t know.
Ben’s handsome features twisted into his customary scowl. “I don’t want any excuses tomorrow. If you drink too much and you’re hungover or late, I won’t be fucking happy. I expect you at my place at 7 am, and don’t forget, you owe me an hour.”
It took all my effort not to roll my eyes at the coldness in his tone. Pulling a broad smile on my face, I winked at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. McScroodge. I’ll see you bright and early.”
The rest of the date sucked. By the time I returned from the bar, two of Mike’s friends had gatecrashed our table.
I spent the evening making small talk with a guy whose name I’d instantly forgotten, surreptitiously glancing through the gap in the crowd to the table where Ben sat.
Every so often, our gazes clashed, and he’d be the first to look away.
He didn’t leave the table, just sat there nursing his one and only pint of the night. After several hours, he finished the remainder of his drink and left without even a nod in my direction.
I stayed for another twenty minutes and then made my excuses to leave, telling Mike that I had an early start—the truth—and that I would call him—a blatant lie. I headed outside, pulling the collar of my winter jacket up around my neck.
Days in Henderson were still warm, but the evenings were turning colder as the month crept on. Every year, the weather forecast said we’d be in for a white Christmas, but for as long as I could remember, they’d always gotten it wrong.
Maybe this year would be different; the chill certainly seemed more bitter than in previous years. The thought made me smile; the twins had never experienced snow, and I could just imagine how happy they would be if it did snow.
When a cold wind shivered around me, I pulled my jacket tighter, regretting my decision to leave the van at home. I’d decided that I was going to have a few drinks tonight, and no way would I drink and drive.
Home was a thirty-minute walk, though, and while I could have hailed a cab, I decided to make the walk, opting not to spend any more of my savings on something trivial.
My body protested as I increased my pace. I knew I was pushing myself, and I knew the risk of that, but I needed my body to hold on a little longer. If I could get through until Sunday, I could spend the day relaxing, and hope I didn’t fall into a full-blown exhaustion.
I’d walked no more than a few minutes when a familiar car pulled alongside me and came to a stop. My brows lifted when the window of the black A-Class Mercedes rolled down. Ben didn’t look my way; just continued to stare ahead as he said, “Get in, I’ll give you a lift home.”
To say I was shocked would have been an understatement. Had the world’s most grumpiest, selfish man offered to do something for someone else?
Part of me wanted to decline his offer. I lived on the other side of town, and in the opposite direction from his place. He’d be going out of his way. But the other part of me—the bigger part—wanted to accept, hoping to see a different side of the man the whole town despised.
Maybe he did have a kind, generous side to him.
Maybe I’d just had too many beers.
When another cold wind blew, the decision was made for me. I jogged to the passenger side and got in, rubbing my hands in front of the heater and murmuring my thanks as my ass warmed on the heated seat. Ben nodded, and for the duration of the journey home, neither of us spoke.
By the time he came to a stop outside my family home, an awkward silence had filled the car.
“Thanks for the lift. I appreciate it,” I said, unbuckling my belt.
He still didn’t speak.
Sighing, I reached for the handle and tugged it open when a hand grabbed my arm. I turned back to Ben, his gaze still staring ahead out the window. “I know it’s none of my business, but it didn’t seem like you enjoyed yourself with that guy tonight.”
“What makes you say that?”
He turned, his dark eyes drilling into mine. “‘Cos you didn’t smile once.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my breath caught, but in the blink of an eye, he’d gone back to glaring out the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I replied, getting out of the car despite every part of me screaming to stay and talk to him.
Reaching my front door, I quietly opened it and went inside, careful not to wake the sleeping household. Locking the door behind me, I paused to look out the small glass window and the car parked on the street.
He didn’t drive away for a couple of minutes, and I wondered if he was staring back at the house. Staring at me. Eventually, the car pulled away, and I climbed the stairs to go to bed, more confused than I’d ever been in my entire life.