Chapter 5 Ella #2
I held my fingers over the screen and struggled to come up with a response. Neurotic wasn’t a word I’d use to describe myself, but after only a few interactions with this man, I was turning into a hot mess. And not in a good way.
I took a deep breath and typed, Ok, we’re leaving now. See you in a few.
Straight to the point. No way it could be misinterpreted. Good. I’d stick to texts like this in the future. Because otherwise, neurosis.
I spent the drive to his house deciding how to behave in front of him. “Act like yourself” didn’t apply here, since the whole pathological need to be liked thing would be detrimental to the leave-him-the-hell-alone approach I had settled on.
The trouble was, I had no idea how to not act like myself and still seem natural.
I didn’t want him to think I was a weirdo if I came across as stiff and quiet when I’d been anything but during our first meeting.
Not because I worried that it would make him dislike me, but because I didn’t want my sudden personality transplant to make him think that I was acting suspicious.
Like, in a “My name is Ella Jones, and I’m going to post every word you say to me on the interwebs afterward” kind of way.
Maybe I could just be myself, but…less?
“Ugh, what does that even mean?” I asked the dogs.
Sam craned his head around and gave me a look like, I’m sorry, hooman. I cannot help you.
Or at least that’s how I interpreted it.
I was on my own then.
In the end, I decided to be more cautious than normal. To stick with self-deprecation and avoid teasing. I didn’t want him to think that I was flirting with him either. Or trying to ingratiate myself with him in some way. I suddenly felt for anyone with social anxiety.
I took the back way around the hill again, out of an abundance of caution.
The dogs perked up when we neared Jack’s driveway, recognizing their surroundings.
I rolled past his property, and their excited yips turned into whines.
The look Fred gave me in the rearview mirror was borderline accusatory.
Their complaining immediately cut off when I pulled into Ben’s driveway, because, ooh, new place!
I drove slowly, taking in the building’s facade.
It was a huge, square, Federal-style farmhouse with a wraparound porch on the first floor.
The last time I’d driven by, before Ben moved in, it had been yellow, but now it was a crisp, bright white with black shutters to add some contrast. The window frames were also black, and the elaborate corbels that had once connected the columns of the porch and the peaks of the roofline had been replaced with clean, straight pieces of darkly stained wood that matched the decking, giving the place a more modern finish. I really liked it.
It was funny how just a few coats of paint and some small upgrades could change the whole feel of a place.
Before, it had looked dilapidated, run down.
Now it looked lived in. Not merely a house, but a home.
A very large home, that rambled back from its original square frame, telling the story of its past through the various additions that had been added to accommodate for a growing family.
The front door opened as I eased the truck to a stop.
I looked away from it before Ben could appear and prepared myself for the reality of seeing him again.
It was one thing to tell yourself to treat someone like a normal human when they looked like the offspring of a Polynesian god.
It was another thing entirely to stick to that when faced with them.
I glanced back and saw him loping down the steps.
He wore boots, faded jeans, and a long-sleeved green button-down.
The wind picked up, flattening his clothes to his body, giving me a great view of the copious amount of muscle that rolled and bunched as he walked.
It was like the male equivalent of the infamous Marilyn Monroe white dress scene from The Seven Year Itch.
To make matters worse, his hair was loose, falling just past his shoulders in a glorious, wavy mass that was lighter at the tips than the roots.
It fanned out around him like he was in a goddamn music video.
A gunmetal gray sky hung low over us. The smell of snow permeated the air. The wind was cold enough to steal your breath away. And yet, somehow, it was like the summer sun had broken through and shined a spotlight down on Ben. That deep bronze skin. That salt-bleached hair. That mega-watt smile.
“Oof.” It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.
Stop it, I told myself. Think of all that he’s been through. Think of why he’s probably here. Not to be ogled by you.
I took a deep breath, turned off the truck, opened my door, and climbed out. “Hi, Ben.”
“Hi. Thanks again for this,” he said, coming over to the driver’s side.
He towered over me, one of the few men I’d ever met that made me feel small in comparison. This close, the green of his shirt brought out the green in his eyes.
Great. Just wonderful.
“You’re welcome,” I said, looking away. “You might want to stand back for a second while I let the dogs out. This is a new place, so they might be a little…enthusiastic.”
He looked over my shoulder and gave the boys a wave through the window, grinning even wider than before. “Hi, mutts.”
They squirmed in response, straining at their harnesses while I reached in and fumbled to undo them.
“Well, I see now that you’re going to be a terrible influence,” I said.
“Sorry, I really like dogs.”
He didn’t sound even remotely sorry, and when I looked over my shoulder at him, he was making a come here, boys gesture that did nothing to help me in my task.
I shook my head and turned my focus back to the harnesses. Dog people. We were all the same when you got right down to it.
Once they were free, Fred and Sam launched themselves straight at him.
He dropped down into a crouch and roughhoused with them for a few minutes before they darted away and took off toward the nearest snowbank, racing each other to be the first one to inspect the rock that stuck out from it.
That done, they sniffed a circle around Ben’s Jeep, taking extra time on each tire, and then bounded back to him again, briefly, before tearing around the truck, out of sight.
From the sound of it, they were plowing through the snow in wild abandon.
They raced around the Jeep again and beelined for the woodpile.
Then they were back at the rock. Fred peed on the rock.
Sam sniffed Fred’s pee and added his own for good measure. Finally, they padded toward us.
I leaned down, coaxing them over. “Are you guys all done being -”
Fred got a crazy look in his eye and then took off again, Sam hot on his heels.
I straightened. “Better they get it out now than in the house.”
Ben chuckled, nodding in agreement.
“They might be a while, if you want to wait inside.” I waved a hand at him. “You’re not exactly dressed for this weather.
He gave me a sheepish grin and cupped his hands together to blow into them. “I think I will if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’m going to play fetch with them for a few minutes to get some of their energy out.”
“You need a hat or gloves or anything?” he asked.
Gah. Of course he was super considerate. “I’m good, thanks. I have all the necessary clothing items in the truck.”
Necessary clothing items? I sounded like some robot pretending to be me.
Ben, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. “Okay, I’ll be inside.”
He turned and strolled toward the front door. I watched him go; I couldn’t help myself. That butt. The breadth of his shoulders. The way those long legs ate up the driveway.
Hrrrrrnnnnnn.
He turned around halfway to the porch. “Coffee?”
I blanked my face, hoping he hadn’t seen my climb-you-like-a-tree expression again. “Yes, please.”
I didn’t exactly need any more caffeine right now, but holding the mug would give me something to do with my hands once I was inside.
Whenever I felt awkward or uncomfortable, I grew hyperaware of them.
It was like realizing that no matter where you look, you can always see your own nose.
I became consumed with how I should or shouldn’t hold them.
Did I put them in my pockets? Fold them in front of me? Gently touch my own face?
I whistled the dogs over before they decided to chase after Ben.
I kept a bucket of spare toys in the back of the truck.
In winter, it was filled with frisbees. They did better skipping over the hard crust of snow than tennis balls or squeaky toys.
I’d lost more of those to snowbanks than I could count.
Every spring melt, I found about twenty littering the yard.
I spent a good ten minutes flinging a bright green disc across Ben’s snow-covered front lawn and driveway before the dogs mellowed enough that I trusted them to go in.
Ben met us at the door, opening it wide.
I took one look at the freshly-stained floors and grabbed both of the dogs by their collars before they could sneak by me.
“Do you have some old rags I can clean them off with?” I asked.
Ben glanced down at their muddy paws. “I do. Be right back.”
He reappeared a minute later with some threadbare towels. I dried the dogs off with them, taking my time. Only once I was sure they wouldn’t track anything in or drip all over his floors did we go inside.
I stopped on the front mat and unzipped my jacket while Ben closed the door behind us.
The entry and hallway must have only needed cosmetic updates.
The staircase was gorgeous, the intricately carved wooden banister polished to a bright gloss.
It rose up and away, framing the wide stairs.
The walls were a neutral, light gray that contrasted beautifully with the flooring, while the baseboards and crown molding were painted a crisp white.