Chapter 37
Ben
Dorothy Gale was right: There really was no place like home.
As Ben sat in the oversized living room chair his parents had had for practically ever, waiting for his guests to come back downstairs or for his mom to recruit him to help make Thanksgiving dinner, he felt awash with contentment.
He smiled as he realized just how often he’d been feeling that way lately.
It was amazing what moving home and having a good woman in one’s life could do for a man’s morale.
His parents’ house never seemed to change.
The same pictures of him, his sister, his parents, and various extended family members perched on the mantel.
His dad’s copy of James Patterson’s latest thriller was parked in an open storage basket on the shelf of the end table beside the oversized chair the men in the family seemed to favor, while his mom’s A Clash of Kings lay on its side, in front of a row of upright books, on the bookshelf.
Fresh flowers from one of the greenhouses decorated the coffee table.
Ben breathed deeply of the sights and smells of home.
He loved his new house in Lincoln Park. It was a charming architectural masterpiece in the heart of the city, but it had yet to feel like home the way his parents’ farmhouse did.
While he’d loved his new house from the moment he’d first clapped eyes on it, it was a blank canvas, whereas his childhood home was a finished painting awash with vibrant colors and memories.
Ben drew to attention as he heard footfalls overhead followed by the gentle murmur of female voices.
He angled himself in his chair to see Melody and Shawna walking down the stairs.
He was about to get up to greet them but settled back into his chair when they moved toward him and into the living room.
“Did you settle into your room okay?” he asked as he beckoned Melody with an outstretched hand. She hesitated for a second but took his hand and climbed in beside him on the large chaise.
Shawna’s lips twitched in what Ben could swear was an I told you so smile before she moved to take a seat on the couch across from them.
“We’re all settled in. Thank you,” Melody assured.
He savored the warmth in her tone as she wiggled in, trying to get comfortable.
The oversized chair sagged and creaked slightly as he shifted his weight and put an arm around Melody, maneuvering himself in a way that better permitted him to look at her while still holding her close. He leaned in and nuzzled her hair before he even realized he was going to.
Shawna chuckled softly. He could only imagine she was entertained by his impulse control problems. And yet, Ben doubted he could have helped himself if he’d tried. Melody was an incredible woman and it was getting harder and harder to hide the need to be close to her, even in the company of others.
Ben’s heart sped up as Melody laid a gentle hand on his chest. Time stood still as he gazed into her rich velvety eyes. God, but she was beautiful. So natural and uncontrived.
It felt so right to have Melody here, by his side, in his family’s home.
He couldn’t wait to take their relationship to the next level, to strip her bare and use his body to show her all the ways he was coming to care for her, but what was it about her that made him content just to hold her like this? Clearly, the woman was pure magic.
“Something smells absolutely fabulous,” Melody raved as she breathed in the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. “It would seem your mom’s efforts are well underway, but do you know if there’s anything we can do to help?”
“A girl after my very own heart,” his mom extolled with a bright, appreciative smile on her face as she turned the corner into the living room.
Melody shifted to better face his mom. “It really does smell fabulous, Cathy,” she repeated, only this time conveying her praise to the person who most deserved it. “What can we do to help?” Melody asked, as she made to get up.
Ben hated the idea of losing her warm, soft weight against his side but, as captivated as he was by his incredible girlfriend—a title he would claim with pleasure if Melody let him—he wasn’t so ungrateful for his parents’ generosity that he would deny his mom any of the willing hands, including his own, available to help get Thanksgiving dinner on the table.
“We’re still a few hours out,” his mom revealed, “but the turkey is starting to crisp up nicely.”
“What do we need to do?” Ben asked, ready to get down to business.
“Well,” his mom said, wiping her hands on her apron.
“The turkey is in with the usual herbed-mushroom and sausage stuffing. Carrots, parsnips, yams, and potatoes are roasting alongside it. That leaves,” his mom continued, ticking each item off with a raised finger, “scalloped potatoes, garlicky green beans with crispy onions, a tossed salad, and apple crisp.”
“Cranberry sauce?” Ben asked. Turkey just wasn’t the same without it.
“I made it yesterday,” his mom assured.
“Pumpkin pie?” he inquired. Cranberry sauce might be a classic but, as far as Ben was concerned, it ranked far below pumpkin pie, which he deemed essential to any Thanksgiving feast.
His mom chuckled, well familiar with his love of pumpkin-spiced everything. “I put Tali in charge of that one.” His mom glanced down at her watch. “She should be here any time now. In fact,” she said as the front doorknob rattled, “speak of the devil. That’s probably her.”
As was her usual way, Tali didn’t knock. She just waltzed in, knowing she would always be welcome.
“Benji!” Tali screamed with excitement when she saw him. She slid her pie onto the hallway table and dropped her bag before racing toward him and quite literally catapulting herself into his arms.