Chapter Seventeen
Ben
Ava was in a state when I walked into The Rolling Scone at six-thirty Wednesday evening. Her wheaten hair looked like it had started the day in a ponytail, but had melted to the side and lost quite a few strands along the way. Even though I knew she wore an apron, she’d still managed to cover herself in flour and—I squinted—pink glitter, somehow.
“Rough day?” I asked, taking the same seat I had last time, in a black banquette next to the display window.
“It’s fine.” She took the chair opposite me at the small, two-person table. “Let’s just get this done.”
Gritting my teeth, I made a split-second decision. Probably a foolish one. “I know what ‘fine’ means,” I told her, leaving the papers in my bag and instead focusing entirely on her. “It means you need to vent. So let’s have it.”
I’d been pushing her away, avoiding the discomfort of dealing with our complicated relationship, but I couldn’t just sit there knowing she was in pain. I wasn’t a monster. Maybe it wasn’t anything serious, but it sure as hell seemed important.
She cocked her head, her lopsided ponytail falling ever further askew. It was comically adorable, but I suppressed the urge to laugh because I knew that was not what she needed right now.
“But we’re not friends,” she sounded more perplexed than malicious. “Why do you care how my day was?”
“I’m perfectly willing to be your friend,” I corrected. “And even if we aren’t, I can still be a considerate neighbor, can’t I?” Why was I pushing this? It wasn’t like I had any business getting friendlier with Ava.
She eyed me suspiciously. “You’re up to something.”
“Do you want me to come up with some selfish reason as to why I might care about your day, so that your jaded opinion of me can live on?”
She actually considered my ridiculous offer. “Yes.”
Unbelievable. At least the only direction to go from here was up.
“Tell me why your day was so bad so that we can get it out of the way and focus on the house, and I won’t have to watch you be miserable the entire time.” Best I could do.
“I didn’t set my timer this morning when I put the scones in the oven, so I burned them and of course it happened on the day when five people came in early asking about the blueberry lemon scones. I dropped an entire bag of flour when I realized they were burning,” she gestured to her flour-covered t-shirt.
I nodded, listening intently. “And what about the glitter?” I pressed.
“That’s the worst part,” she sighed. “Mrs. Beatty never came in today, which has me worried. She always comes in for a cupcake, always asks for more glitter. So I set aside one for her and grabbed her special glitter jar but it was empty. Fine. Whatever. It happens. Not usually a problem. But I couldn’t get the new jar open, and when I finally did, it exploded on me.”
My brain knew better than to play the part of Ava’s friend. I knew that she didn’t want me filling that role. She had plenty of friends. But my heart refused to listen. I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. I’d had precious few interactions with Ava since I broke up with Jules, and I wasn’t about to waste this one. Apparently.
I stood up, slinging my bag back over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“What?” she squinted. “What are you talking about?”
“Let’s go check on Mrs. Beatty and get her that cupcake because, frankly, it’s a sin to withhold your pastries from anyone, especially sweet old widows. If she needs help, we’ll help her. If not, we’ll go to your house, get you cleaned up, then sit down and go over these papers.”
Ava’s lips parted, drawing my attention in spite of my heroic effort at ignoring the way she made my heart pound. “Why?”
“Will you be able to stop worrying about her if we don’t?”
Her shoulders sank. “No,” she admitted. “But it would be weird to meet at my house.”
“We can look at them tomorrow,” I suggested instead.
“No.” Her firm tone shocked me. “I want to get this moving. The sooner the better.”
I wasn’t about to argue, since I felt much the same. I loved Mom, but I was really counting on this sale helping her come to terms with losing Grandma, for her own peace and for mine.
Taking her in for a long moment, I dared another, even more reckless question, “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Japanese, Mexican, or Italian?”
The fact that she didn’t argue with me reassured me that I’d made the right choice. She must feel even worse than I’d guessed.
“Japanese.”
“You get the cupcake, I’ll get the lights.”
Ava stood up, pausing for several moments after she lifted her chair upside down onto the table. “Ben,” she called softly. “Thank you.”
I didn’t trust myself not to say something even more foolish than I already had tonight, so instead I smiled at her before I flicked off the light.
We drove up to the lakes separately so that Ava could shower while I headed back to town to get us a table at A Taste of Tokyo. I followed Ava, who drove her parents’ old silver minivan, and parked in her driveway behind her. She was out of the van and in front of Mrs. Beatty’s door, cupcake in hand, before I’d even turned my car off.
She pounded on the door three times, loud enough to wake the dead. When it didn’t immediately open, she knocked another three times. “Mrs. Beatty!”
Finally, the burgundy door swung open, but it wasn’t Mrs. Beatty. It was a guy I hadn’t seen in a decade.
“Travis?”
“Ben! Ava!” he greeted us happily. “Man, it’s been forever! How are you guys?”
Crisis momentarily forgotten, I locked forearms with Travis and pulled him into a giant hug. He’d been on the high school football team with Liam and I, our best tight end. Like Liam, Travis had talent and, though he’d never gone pro like my brother, they both had played to win. I played for fun. The girls had always fawned over Travis, and the guys had always been jealous. Perfect, smooth tan skin. Deep green eyes. Black hair that would make Fabio envious. And, even at thirty, he still looked to be in fighting shape.
Before I could continue with more questions about where the hell he’d gone and what he’d been up to, his mom walked to stand beside him in the doorway.
“Ava! Ben, what a nice surprise. Come on in.” She shot Travis a pointed look. “What are you doing leaving guests standing outside?”
“I wish we could, but we’re actually on our way to a meeting,” Ava told her, handing over the pastel pink box. “I brought you your cupcake.”
Mrs. Beatty’s grin extended from ear to ear. “You came all this way to bring me my cupcake?”
“And to make sure everything was alright,” Ava added sheepishly. “We’re exchanging numbers, and next time you aren’t coming, please text me.”
“Sorry, Ava,” Travis laughed. “That was my fault, showing up at the last minute and all. Let’s get you two hooked up.”
We got their numbers exchanged, Mrs. Beatty thanked Ava profusely for her impending sugar rush, and Ava hurried next door to shower.
“I’ll text you when I’m heading over,” she said. “Like half an hour or so?”
“Sounds great. I’ll go grab a table.”
Mrs. Beatty and Ava both disappeared, but Travis stepped outside the moment Ava’s front door closed behind her.
“Ben,” he hissed, nodding for me to get closer. “Did you finally lock that down?” he whispered excitedly.
I looked askance at him. “What are you talking about?” I’d never, ever told anyone except Liam about my crush on her.
“Come on, man. It was so obvious you liked her in high school.”
Ignoring how uncomfortable that idea made me, I shook my head, glancing back toward her house. “She’s buying my grandma’s old place on Main. I’m the realtor. We’re going through paperwork.”
Travis looked unconvinced. “Over dinner, though? How many of your clients do you wine and dine?”
“It happens occasionally.” Not often, but occasionally. “Sometimes people can’t get off work or live out of town or something so we meet at a meal time.”
“So you’re going to take Ava out on a date that she doesn’t realize is a date, and then write it off as a business expense? Impressive.” He nods in approval.
“No,” I immediately start to argue against nearly every part of his assessment, but he stops me.
“No, no,” he waves his hand. “I get it. Can’t have her figuring it out now, can we? Hey, is your old number still the same? I need to know how this dinner goes.”
“The only place this business meeting is going is to a house sale,” I insist. “But hell yeah, let’s stay in touch. How long are you here?”
He grinned like a fool. “Liam texted me about an assistant coaching position that opened up for the team. I’m interviewing tomorrow.”
I snorted in amusement. “You mean you’re getting on the payroll tomorrow. There’s no way they won’t take you.”
“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. But, yeah, it seems like a sure thing.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, we quickly exchanged numbers. “Tell you what,” he said. “You tell me how your ‘business meeting’ goes, and I’ll tell you how my interview goes. Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed. “It’s good to have you back, man.”
“It’s good to be back. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go try to steal part of a cupcake.” With a mischievous eyebrow wiggle, Travis hurried back inside and I headed back down the road into town.
To get a table for me and Ava.