Chapter 7 Bella #2
We both settled into the couch—me in one corner and Bennett on the opposite end, close enough that our knees almost touched, but not quite.
“So,” he started, voice soft against the steady drum of rain on the roof. “How’s school going?”
I blinked. “It’s good. I’m only taking one course right now, but there’s a lot of great information I can really use.”
His brows lifted with interest. “For your honey business?”
I shifted to face him more fully, tucking one leg beneath me. The sweatshirt rode up just a little and I tugged it down absently.
“Exactly. I’ve got all these ideas, probably too many. Pairing kits with cheeses or teas, subscription boxes. Oh! I just started working with a graphic designer on some label ideas.”
He nodded slowly, taking it all in.
“I know what I want in a big-picture sense,” I went on.
“The problem is I tend to get distracted. I’ll get excited about one idea, start researching it, then another one hits and I’m off in a completely different direction.
Nothing ever gets finished. I’m hoping my classes will help me figure out how to stay focused.
Build something sustainable instead of just exciting. ”
Great, I’m rambling.
Bennett didn’t seem to mind. He watched me intently, eyes tracking every word like he didn’t want to miss a thing.
“That’s a lot of ideas,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But they all sound good. You’ve got the passion part down, now you’re just adding the structure.”
I felt my cheeks warm at the quiet sincerity in his voice. “Hoping to at least.”
He smiled then, small and real. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re already doing something special.”
We sat there for a moment in the lamplight, the space between us charged but calm. Outside, thunder rumbled again, farther off now. Inside, the space between us on the couch felt smaller than it had a minute ago.
“You’re a good listener,” I said quietly.
He shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Tell me more about the labels you’ve been working on.”
I was mid-sentence, describing illustrated bees, when I realized I’d slipped back into using my hands along with my voice, an old habit from my ASL class.
“—and one bee will be wearing a tiny crown for the wildflower honey,” I said, laughing at myself. “And maybe another with a book for the back-to-school blend.”
I signed school without thinking, or at least, I thought I had.
Bennett’s eyes tracked the motion. He tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
“That’s wash,” he corrected softly.
I dropped my hands to my lap, cheeks heating. “What?”
“That’s wash.” He reached over, fingers brushing mine as he gently turned my hand palm down over the other.
“School.”
His thumb lingered for a second against the inside of my wrist, right over my pulse, before he shaped the sign again with my hand under his.
Neither of us moved to pull away.
I could feel the faint calluses on his index finger, the subtle pressure of his palm. The lamplight flickered across his face, catching in his cobalt blue eyes as they lifted to mine. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker. I forgot how to breathe for a second.
Then the overhead light snapped on.
Every lamp in the room blazed to life at once, harsh and bright after the soft glow of the emergency lantern.
We both flinched, and Bennett sat back quickly, clearing his throat, looking anywhere but at me.
At the exact same moment, the front door rattled and swung open.
“Is anybody ho—” Nessa stopped cold on the other side of the threshold, plastic bags swinging from her arms.
Her gaze went from my bare legs and . . . limited attire to Bennett sitting a careful foot away from me on the couch.
Nessa’s brows shot up. A slow, devious grin spread across her face. “Well, well, well,” she drawled, kicking the door shut behind her with one heel.
Heat flooded my face so fast, I was sure I matched her red scarf. Bennett made a low, strangled sound and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
“It’s not—” I said sharply, already on my feet, clutching the hem of the sweatshirt like it might suddenly shrink. “I got locked out of my place when the power went out and—”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to explain to me,” she said, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “Did you two want me to duck back out?”
Bennett coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking. I shot him a glare, and he lifted both hands in innocent surrender. I might’ve believed him if the corner of his mouth tipping up didn’t give him away.
“No, but you could let me back into my place with your spare key.”
Nessa stepped sideways, blocking the path to the door with theatrical flair. “Belles—”
“Now, Nessa,” I cut in, brushing past her. I paused just long enough to glance back at Bennett. He was watching me still. “Thanks for . . . everything. I’ll get your sweatshirt back to you.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but I was already moving.
“Soon,” I added quickly, then turned to Nessa. “Let’s go.”
I didn’t wait to hear her reply.
I just tugged the sweatshirt sleeves over my hands, hugged my arms around myself, and marched across the wet grass toward my own front door, Nessa’s laughter trailing behind me like sparks.
Whatever had almost happened on that couch could wait.
For tonight, I was locking it—and myself—safely inside.