Chapter Twenty
Ben carried Carol back to her bed, over her protests, then he and Sela said goodnight to the others. She put on her coat and
gloves and they walked out to their vehicles. “I’ll follow you home,” he said.
She gave a start of surprise, but then since yesterday afternoon he’d been doing things that surprised her. She started to
say she’d be okay, then realized that though she didn’t know who had tried to steal the gasoline, they certainly knew who
she was, and might have vengeance on their minds. She might not be okay, going home alone. Think strategically, she reminded herself.
The short distance to her house took only a minute. Ben pulled into the driveway behind her; as they walked up to the porch,
a speck of white drifted in front of her face, then another. She stopped and looked up at the delicate flakes floating down
from the darkness. “It’s snowing,” she said with mild surprise. With everything that had happened during the past couple of
days, she hadn’t thought of the possibility of snow.
Snow in November wasn’t unusual, just a signal that though it was technically still autumn, winter didn’t necessarily agree.
There would still be good days, mild and sunny, even in January and February, but by and large people should be getting ready.
In normal times that meant wrapping the outside faucets to protect against freezing. This year, things were both more simple
and more complicated.
Still . . . the first snow of the season was always a little magical, no matter how light. This wasn’t a storm, it was a silent
downward spiral of flakes, peaceful in the still night. She stood there for a moment, her face upturned, a smile curving her
lips. She wasn’t a nature fanatic but she did enjoy the seasons, and this moment in particular. Without thinking she reached
for his hand; it wasn’t until the pause before he carefully folded his fingers around hers that she realized anew how wary
he still was with people.
But he was holding her hand, the heat of his palm burning through her gloves. Though he might not feel the same as she did about the
first snow, he was willing to stand there with her while she enjoyed it.
“Isn’t this great?” she asked, and felt the glance he arrowed down at her.
“You like the snow?”
“I like the first snow,” she said, smiling. “It’s new and special, and listen to how quiet everything is. But if it’s still here tomorrow morning,
it’ll be a pain in the rear end.”
She couldn’t be sure, in the darkness, but the flashlight cast enough light that she thought he might be smiling a little.
However small a smile she could get from him, she’d take it.
“That’s true. If we hadn’t given out the gasoline today, everyone would be walking and there wouldn’t be a problem. But if
people get out on the road tomorrow—”
“Ouch.” She winced, thinking that her timing sucked. In normal times the roads would be plowed and treated with salt brine,
but “normal” had changed, and no snowplows would be running.
“It is what it is. Everyone here has driven on snow before.”
He hadn’t pulled his hand away, but she thought she’d held on to him long enough and let her hand drop; it was better to break
the contact herself than to push him out of his comfort zone.
He opened the screen door and they went up on the porch, his hand on the small of her back, then he held the flashlight while
she unlocked the door. Seizing her courage, she asked, “Would you like to come in?” All he could do was tell her no, and though
she would be disappointed she wouldn’t die from it. After the way he’d kissed her she knew he was attracted to her, and at the same time she also knew he’d likely had his fill of people today.
“Yes.”
She was a little startled and a lot happy. They would talk and likely make out some, the thought of which sizzled through
her veins. That was what she was thinking, but when she started to go inside, he stopped her with a touch on her arm. “If
this is too soon, say so.” His voice was rough, strained, as if he thought she might send him away.
Sela’s heart gave a giant leap, then everything in her paused, as if her body waited on her decision. That? Now? She knew what he was saying, and wondered why she hadn’t already realized it. Why else would he have come to Carol’s house—bearing
a gift of bacon—and actually sat down to eat with them? Taking care of security was one thing, but socializing was a giant
step for him to take.
Her heart was booming in her chest. What was “too soon”? She’d been attracted to him for years. They hadn’t dated, hadn’t
done any of the traditional romantic things, but in the world they found themselves in now perhaps a can of bacon meant more
than any box of chocolates or an expensive dinner. A hot shower outweighed a movie, and tending wounds was priceless. Not
only that, in this new world life was more precarious than it had been before, and tomorrow was only a possibility, not the
given most people had considered it.
“No,” she said quietly, and leaned her head against his arm. “It isn’t too soon.” If she didn’t seize life, it could slip
away from her. Today she could have died without ever knowing what it was like to be with him, and she wouldn’t take that
chance again. He had offered, and she accepted.
They went inside and she made sure the door was locked behind them. He paused a moment to look around and check his surroundings
like a wary animal, then shed his coat, hung it on the coatrack beside the door, and went to the fireplace where he crouched
down to build up the fire because once again it had burned down. The open space of great room, kitchen, and breakfast nook
was chilly. It wasn’t a huge space, but being so open made it more difficult to heat. She lit two oil lamps, illuminating the cozy surroundings with mellow
light and adding a bit more heat.
This was her home, as familiar to her as her own face, but what did he see when he looked around? His house was bigger, and
more bare. Nothing here was luxurious but her furniture was comfortable, she had nice rugs on the floor, pretty lamps that
were useless for now, photos and books and a few pretty knickknacks. It was a woman’s home, and to him it might feel fussy
and stifling.
He straightened from the fireplace; he made everything feel small, dwarfing it with his height and the breadth of his shoulders.
She went breathless just looking at him, absorbing the impact of his size and strength, but after a few seconds she managed
to follow his lead and take off her coat, hang it beside his. That mundane action somehow felt piercingly intimate, seeing
their coats hanging there side by side.
Breathe.
Doing so was more difficult than she’d expected. She was so overwhelmed by the look of him and the prospect of what they were
going to do that she was in a daze. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone since her divorce, too traumatized and insecure to
even try to meet someone else. Now, suddenly, there was Ben, who was like no other man she’d ever known.
She would be naked in front of him . . . but he would be naked in front of her, too, and the thought of that was far more
riveting than the vulnerabilities she felt.
He was still standing there looking into the fire. Sela regrouped, reining in her nerves and wondering if he was nervous,
too—not because of the prospect of sex, but because of the prospect of emotional connection. The set of his shoulders looked
tense. Instinctively she reacted, searching for something that would relieve that tension, or at least give him time to deal
with it. “Would you like something to drink?” Lord, that was the wrong thing to ask; her available offerings were slim. “Mostly
I eat at Carol’s, but I keep a little coffee here, and some mix for hot chocolate.”
He turned, his head cocked a little, interest in his eyes. “How much coffee?”
“Not much,” she confessed. “Enough for a few cups.”
“Then we’ll have hot chocolate now, and save the coffee for tomorrow morning.”
She processed that, reading between the lines and . . . he intended to spend the night here. Every muscle in her began quivering
in anticipation.
“Unless you want me to leave. Afterward.”
Had he read her mind, or just her face? It couldn’t be her face, because she felt as if she was blazing with joy, in which
case he wouldn’t have asked that question. “No,” she managed to say. “I don’t want you to leave.”
She went to the kitchen and poured some of her water supply into a small cast-iron pot, then took the pot to the fireplace
to begin heating it. He took the pot from her, bent to nestle it in the coals and put the lid on it so ash couldn’t fly into
the water. “Do you have a generator? I could turn it on, get the house warm.”
“I do, but I took it to Carol’s before the CME hit. I thought she and Olivia would need it more. I sleep here, but that’s
about it.” And retreat here, when she needed some alone time. Besides, this was her home, and she was emotionally more comfortable
here even without electricity than she was at Carol’s. “It was great today, running the generator and the water heater. Barb
helped me get the well pump going. All of us had nice hot showers.” She smiled at him. “I’ve had a shower two days in a row.
I feel pampered.”
“You mean aside from being shot at?” he asked, moving his hand to her waist and urging her closer to him. She went willingly,
and nestled against his side. This was so new, such an unexpected fulfillment of her silent yearning, that she was caught
in a vague sense of astonishment. Why would someone like Ben be attracted to someone like her? On the other hand, she was just as astonished that she was so attracted to him. She felt as if he was her polar opposite—but
skin chemistry overruled a lot of things, and she wanted him to touch her, wanted to touch him in return.
“That doesn’t feel real.” She gave voice to her thoughts. Talking was easier like this, not facing each other but watching
the flames lick at the wood. “The unusual never does, does it? It’s the normal little things that anchor us.”