15. Ford
15
Ford
W hen Blair calls, I answer. Okay, so maybe she didn’t technically call, but she did send a text asking if I could give her a ride tonight.
After a few hiccups at the shower, the girls were insistent on letting loose and having a much-needed night out. Eventually, they settled on heading to the Timberline Tavern, where we can not only enjoy drinks but also take part in their weekly trivia night.
It’s also been decided that tonight is the perfect opportunity for Pete to get to know everyone better, especially in a “more relaxed and casual setting” as Ronnie put it. I’m pretty sure a small barbecue is the epitome of casual and relaxed, but as usual, if Ronnie suggests something, we all go along with it.
Plus, I understand Ronnie’s reasoning, but honestly, I don’t want to get to know him better. I know him well enough, and I’m fully convinced the more I get to know him, the opposite will happen, and I’ll only grow to despise him even more. He’s shown his true colors, and as they say, when someone shows you who they truly are, believe them. I want to have faith that there’s some underlying goodness in this guy, otherwise, Ronnie wouldn’t have chosen him, but so far I’ve yet to see any evidence of that.
The problem is, I understand what it’s like to have a significant other that my friends don’t approve of, and navigating a situation like that can not only be emotionally draining, but incredibly isolating as well.
While my friends have valid reasons to dislike and disapprove of Jenny, it’s worth mentioning that she isn’t entirely without redeeming qualities. It is, after all, those attributes that made me fall in love with her in the first place, and I fully believe that, to some extent, a part of me always will, even after everything. We just weren’t meant to be, and as tough as this road has been, I don’t want Ronnie to have to endure that too.
Despite my reservations, I’m committed to trying my hardest tonight to be nice, and I’m assuming the same for Blair. Supposedly, Ronnie had volunteered to pick Blair up, but she’d gone and said I was taking her, so here I am doing my usual Ford thing—getting dragged into the middle—all because I’ve never been able to say no to her.
Then again, I don’t want to. I’ll happily say yes to her a million times over if it means I’m the one responsible for making her smile or making her life easier.
As I pull into the parking lot, I debate whether to take the easy route and send her a text or be a gentleman and make my way to the front door. I go with the latter, even though I find myself second-guessing that decision as I walk the steps up toward the door and knock. After everything she said the day before, the last thing I want is to make her feel weird or like I’m trying to turn this night into something it’s not.
Shaking my head, I do my best to rinse my brain of those thoughts. This is simply a night of four friends getting together and enjoying each other’s company, despite the mix of two guys and two girls, one of whom is an actual couple. The last thing I want to worry about is how this could look to the judgmental people of Evergreen Grove, who always seem to have something to say. Hell, even I’m overthinking this and reading into things, so why wouldn’t they?
Raising my hand, I give the door a firm knock and don’t wait long before her brother swings it open. “Uh, hey, Miles,” I say, lifting my hand in an awkward greeting.
Using his head, he gestures for me to come inside, his face devoid of any true emotion, somehow making me feel even more anxious. I’d consider asking who shit in his Wheaties this morning, but given that this is a typical Miles Bennett greeting, I don’t even have to wonder. Hell, that was pretty friendly for this guy. Plus, I kind of enjoy my face the way it is, and I’m definitely not looking to get it pummeled or rearranged tonight.
“So, I take it Blair is still getting ready?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Blair is forever caught in her own timeline—it’s her world and we’re all just living in it. Even after purposely arriving ten minutes later than planned, it’s really not much of a surprise that I’m left waiting.
“I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” He coolly shrugs as he walks into the kitchen. The smell of something delicious wafting in the air lets me know he’s likely working on dinner, so I place my hands in my pockets and nervously sway back and forth.
“So, what are you up to tonight?” I ask, attempting to make conversation.
Miles looks up from where he’s standing behind the counter with a raised brow. “You know you can take a seat, right? You don’t just have to stand there.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine here,” I ramble. You’d think as a grown man, I wouldn’t still be intimidated by Miles Bennett, but there’s just something about him that always puts me on edge. I know I shouldn’t judge, but his intense gaze constantly makes me feel like I’m one wrong word away from getting punched in the face.
“Whatever you say.” He shrugs, dismissing my question without a second thought, his focus shifting back to the task of cutting up what looks to be a random assortment of vegetables.
I’m relieved that I don’t have to endure the awkward silence for long as Blair emerges, her hair styled in a high ponytail. She’s wearing a black lacy corset top, distressed jeans, and her trademark leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Spotting me, her big, beautiful, round eyes widen in surprise.
“Miles,” she admonishes. “You didn’t tell me Ford was here.”
“And if I had, would that have made you get ready any quicker?” he inquires, his gaze never leaving the vegetables in front of him as he continues chopping.
She rolls her eyes as she walks toward where I’m standing and grabs a pair of ankle-length black boots. “Probably not,” she honestly replies. “But that’s still the polite thing to do. Hell, Ford here looks like he’s about to shit his pants. You still giving him a hard time?”
So much for hoping that I don’t look as awkward and nervous as I feel. Then again, the sweaty palms and forehead are likely a huge giveaway. Plus, does he really have to be holding a knife right now?
“Me? Give any of your friends a hard time?” he scoffs, finally looking up. “ Never . Plus, he’s the one friend of yours I actually do like .”
I shouldn’t care, especially since I have no reason to impress Miles, but it feels strangely exhilarating to know that the town grump, who doesn’t seem to like anybody, doesn’t mind me.
“Wow,” Blair says. “That’s impressive , he doesn’t tend to like anybody. I’d take that as a huge compliment if I were you.”
“I honestly do,” I admit with a small chuckle as I reach to push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. However, as I look toward Miles, who is as stony-faced as ever, it’s hard for that smile not to falter, at least a little bit.
“Don’t get too excited. Plus, like might be a bit of an exaggeration. What I should’ve said is he’s the one friend of yours I can tolerate,” Miles offers instead.
“Honestly? I’ll still take it,” I chuckle. I’ve probably bought into the whole Bennett gossip thing a little more than I should, since, while Miles has never actually gotten physical with anybody, he really does give off that ‘ don’t mess with me’ with attitude. Although he looks like the type of guy who’s likely been in a lot of fights, I’ve never actually heard of any going down, and I assume that’s because people know not to mess with him.
“Maybe you’d actually find certain people more likable if you actually spent some time around my friends, or really anyone for that matter,” Blair offers, her hands landing on her hips, boots and all.
“I have friends,” he challenges.
“No, you have colleagues and people who work for you. There’s a difference,” Blair shoots back.
“That’s not true. I go out all the time. I’m just not one to go out for stupid shit like the Timberline Trivia Showdown.”
“Yeah, that’s because it’s a good time, and as far as I can tell, you’re still allergic to anything remotely fun,” Blair doubles down.
“Fine,” he says, throwing his hands up, knife and all. “You win.”
I look between the two of them. “You win what? What’d I miss?”
“I’ll come. Blair has been hounding me all day about going out with you guys. Just know I’m going to be miserable the entire time.”
Blair props her boots beneath her armpit before happily clapping her hands together. “Good. Plus, you’ve been constantly hounding me about our lack of quality time while I’m home, and now we have the opportunity to spend an entire night together.”
Miles sets the knife down with a shake of his head. “Yeah, with you and the rest of the three stooges, and whoever else is crazy enough to marry Veronica Prescott. You’re already making me regret this, you know?” he says, turning off the stove before exiting the kitchen area while wiping his hands on his sweatpants.
“We’re the three stooges, huh?” I ask with mild amusement, even though Miles is sending an annoyed glance my way. “Which one am I?”
“Oh, you’re Larry, without a doubt,” Blair decides right away with a definitive nod, which I suppose fits. Larry did have a tendency to go along with the crazy plans of the other two, and it seems I’ve yet to outgrow that part of myself.
“While you two ding-dongs figure that out, I’m going to hurry and change,” Miles says, excusing himself.
With her boots back in hand, Blair finally moves to the couch and takes a seat as I follow closely behind, feeling a bit more comfortable with Miles out of the room.
I also do my best not to let my eyes roam over her body, since damn, she looks amazing tonight, but then again, what else is new? I’ve never failed to be impressed not only by her beauty, but also her unique personal style. In a place like Evergreen Grove, where being different draws extra attention, she’s never been afraid to be her true self and stand out.
“You look really good,” I can’t help but blurt.
She looks up at me, grinning. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she says, her eyes scanning me from top to bottom.
I do the same and shift my gaze downward. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a red and black flannel thrown over the top—nothing even remotely special. “Sorry, but I’ve got nothing on you,” I argue.
“That’s debatable,” she challenges, holding out a hand so I can help her stand up now that her boots are securely in place.
“I’m more than willing to debate this with you, since, like usual, I’ll win,” I joke, letting her hand fall into mine as my fingers wrap around hers and pull her up and into me.
Like the day in the dressing room, a warm silence envelopes the two of us, but instead of acting like a sane person, I find myself utterly transfixed by her, and instead of letting go of her hand, we hold on.
“Ford,” she softly whispers, her lips drawing my gaze.
I battle against the overwhelming impulse to lean in and kiss her, summoning every ounce of self-restraint I possess. As much as I want to take advantage of the moment, deep down I know that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.
“Alright, I’m ready,” Miles’s deep voice says, breaking the magic as I drop Blair’s hand and take a large step back. If I’m going to kiss Blair again, I need the moment to be right, and it certainly isn’t going to be in her brother’s apartment with him in the next room.
“Perfect. So are we,” Blair says, her calm reply making me question my instincts, as if the almost-kiss never happened. Did I just make that all up in my head?
Maybe I misinterpreted the moment, and she hadn’t been feeling the same powerful pull that I was. Thank God I hadn’t followed my instincts and leaned in to kiss her. She had just told me yesterday that she didn’t think we could work, and maybe I need to start taking her word on that a bit more seriously.
Even though I know she’s only here because of Ronnie and her wedding, I can’t deny that every feeling I’ve ever had for her has come flooding back. Sure, the timing might finally work in my favor, but it may be time to face the facts: I waited too damn long, and Blair got sick of waiting.