Chapter 12
Maven
I started into a fit of coughs, fanning the air with my hand.
The steak had gone from sizzling to smoking, and despite the open windows, a visible haze lingered in the trailer.
I searched the drawers for something to flip it with, trying not to get frustrated with myself for the obscure places I’d put everything.
Not that I was worried about the steak burning.
It was kind of the point, but I wanted to make sure I’d pressed out every drop of moisture inside it.
Whereas the broccoli was the opposite. I’d boiled it, without adding so much as a pinch of salt or a touch of butter, until the florets had disintegrated and most of the water had evaporated. But not all of it.
“The drawer under the oven!” I said aloud, remembering where I’d put the silverware. With a spoon and fork soon in hand, I flipped my steak, pressing it down again, and stirred the broccoli until it resembled a greenish-yellow watery mush.
Perfect.
Maven: Dinner is ready
Ben: On my way
A few minutes later, the door to the trailer opened, and Finn bounded inside first. He paused to sniff the air, then came to say hello.
I squatted down to pet him. “Hey, you.”
“Everything okay in here?” Though Ben shut the screen door, he’d left the actual door open, his arms fanning the smoky trailer air.
I straightened, resuming my place at the stove. “I think it was the seasoning I used on the steak,” I said, not wanting him to speculate too much just yet.
He stepped up behind me to turn on the fan over the stovetop. “Steak, huh?”
My heart rate increased at his proximity, but I quickly moved into his line of sight, blocking the charred remains from view. “Go sit down, and I’ll bring it over.”
He eyed me suspiciously but withdrew a step. “I’m going to wash up real quick.”
Biting back my smile, I nodded. But instead of using the kitchen sink like I’d hoped, Ben went upstairs to the bathroom. Which was also fine. He could see my new decorations.
In his absence, I quickly filled Ben’s plate with a massive pile of broccoli mush, the blackened steak, and an unbuttered piece of white sandwich bread.
For my final touch, I threw on a few raw carrots and a scoop of excessively over-cinnamoned apple sauce before placing the plate on the table and taking the seat across from where Ben would sit.
“Did you change the soap in the bathroom dispenser?” Ben asked, walking down the steps.
I sent him an overdone smile. “Doesn’t it smell amazing?”
“It smells like pumpkin and…” He took a sniff of his hands. “Vanilla.”
“Impressive. The soap is literally called Pumpkin Vanilla Bliss. It’s the perfect scent for fall.”
Ben took the seat across from me, neither confirming nor denying the claim. “And the new hand towels with the pumpkins, and the matching orange rug and shower curtain.”
“And the toilet cover,” I added. Because the shape of an RV toilet was smaller and the lid oddly shaped compared to a normal toilet, the burnt orange cover was annoyingly loose and sagged off one side.
“Yeah, and that… I almost didn’t recognize my bathroom.”
“When I saw that cute little smiling jack-o’-lantern, I thought to myself, Ben has got to have this.
” Which was completely true, especially since I’d found all of it on a clearance rack at a discount store—fifteen dollars for the entire haul.
The look on his face was worth every penny spent.
On his card. “Speaking of…” I gave a dramatic wave of my arm to his living room.
“What do you think of your new artwork?”
Ben followed my line of sight to his previously plain, wooden walls, now adorned with 3-M hooks displaying an eclectic collection of second-hand prints with wildly mismatched frames. I’d hung several of them crookedly, just for effect.
“Personally,” I said, pointing, “I love the highland cow with the flower crown, but that black and white sketch of John Wayne in a cowboy hat is pretty epic and fits your bachelor pad vibe perfectly.” I glanced back at him. “Is there one you like best?”
He looked at each of them, then shrugged. “Feels like picking a favorite child.”
I pushed my lips together, refusing to laugh. “You’d better eat. We don’t want your food getting cold.”
His gaze settled on his plate, then shifted to my lack of a plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I was so hungry, I couldn’t wait.” I leaned an elbow onto the table and rested my hand on it. “So please, dig in.”
Ben was an intelligent guy, and the look he threw me proved he knew exactly what I was up to, which meant he also knew what it required to call a truce.
Instead, he picked up his steak knife and fork and began sawing at the charcoaled piece of meat.
When he’d finally chiseled a piece free, he stabbed the overcooked sirloin and popped it in his mouth.
He kept his gaze locked with mine while he chewed, as if accepting the challenge laid before him.
“How is it?” I asked.
He speared another piece, and it honest to goodness crunched when he bit into it. “I’ll give it to you. You have gotten better at cooking.”
It took everything within me not to scoff at the well-placed insult. “Thanks. You should try the broccoli.”
Ben pressed his fork into the congealed mass, and moisture seeped out of it onto his plate. “That’s what that is, huh?”
I smiled. “It looks good, right?”
Again, without a moment’s hesitation, he took a scoop and ate it. Then he ate another. And another. “How were your errands?” he asked casually, as if his tastebuds weren’t suffering catastrophic pain.
“Great. I spent most of my time in Lakeview, but I dropped by the market here in Autumn Ridge. Three people stopped me to say they’d heard about our situation. Apparently, the Ednas are as efficient at spreading gossip as ever.”
Ben didn’t respond but just finished the rest of the broccoli.
He then crunched through the raw carrots with an irritating loudness, downed the cinnamon-doused applesauce without flinching, and polished off all but one bit of the charcoaled sirloin, tossing the last piece to Finn.
Finn smelled it but opted to leave it uneaten on the floor.
Smart dog.
Last, Ben picked up the piece of now soggy white bread. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t look away. An impulse I deeply regretted when, watching him consume it, I nearly gagged. Twice.
Once Ben finished, he leaned back in his chair, his long legs spreading out beneath the table and his hands resting across his midsection like he couldn’t have been more satisfied with the meal. “Thanks for dinner. That was… something else.”
I just smiled, refusing to feel discouraged that he seemed entirely unfazed by my efforts. “Want anything to drink?”
“Just water.” He quickly rose to his feet. “But I’ll get it. You’ve done so much already.”
When he filled his glass from the pitcher in the fridge, he swirled it, then inconspicuously sniffed it before taking a small sip.
The gesture had my smile returning. Ben was more on edge than he was letting on, and with the way he gulped down the rest of the glass, as if trying to rid his mouth of its most recent memories, my confidence grew.
Ready for my next surprise, I joined him in the kitchen, bringing the empty plate with me to set in the sink as bait.
“I can get that,” he said, exactly like I knew he would. Tom Walker never let his wife do the dishes if he was there and able, a habit Ben had acquired from his dad.
“Are you sure? I’m happy to—”
“I’ve got it.”
I made room for him but didn’t go far. I wanted front row seats for this.
“Oh, I was going to schedule an appointment with a marriage therapist,” I said, hoping to distract him just enough that he wouldn’t notice the rubber band wrapped around the nozzle handle of the side sprayer.
“I figured we should probably get it over with. Is there a day and time that you’d prefer? ”
“I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.
” He placed his empty glass in the sink and pushed the faucet handle upward.
Water shot out of the side sprayer with an impressive amount of pressure for a trailer, and by the time Ben realized what had happened and shut the water off again, his shirt was decently saturated.
Trying not to laugh was hopeless.
Ben’s gaze fixed on me. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
I nodded, unable to speak through my laughter.
He grabbed the sprayer and aimed it at me. “How about now?”
I froze, lifting my hands, but unable to control the intensity of my lingering smile. “Think about what a mess you’ll make if you turn the water on. It’ll be way bigger than the small one I caused.”
Ben considered my admonition, then gave a slow nod, allowing the cord of the sprayer to retract into its place near the faucet.
My shoulders relaxed. “That was wise of you—”
Before I’d even finished my sentence, Ben flipped the sink handle, and a steady stream of water pelted into me.
I squealed, putting up my hands to block the direct spray, and sprang toward him.
In hindsight, moving away would have been the better strategy, because when I attempted to grab the nozzle, Ben wrapped his arm around me, holding the sprayer just out of my reach and drenching us both.
Finn joined in on the fun, barking and bouncing at our feet.
I was shielding myself from the attack by burying my face into Ben. “Turn it off!”
“I’m trying, but some genius rubber-banded the handle down and it’s hard to remove with one hand.” Clearly more concerned with my retaliation if he released me than the water still pouring out, Ben kept his hold on me and dropped the sprayer into the sink to turn off the faucet.
When the echoes of our laughter faded, we just stood there—Ben’s arm still wrapped around my waist, me pressed against him.
Without water spraying and a battle for the nozzle to distract us, all I could think of was the pressure of his hand on me.
The warmth of his skin. The way my body instinctively welcomed his touch. And wanted more.