16. Ben
BEN
I watched her walk out the door, the anger on her face as clear as day. She was pissed, but her rage didn’t hold a candle to the fury building in my bones.
Spitting blood on the mat, I stalked out of the ring, my side burning from the beating I took at the hands of the very man who went to my house last night and sat in my own damn chair and ate the food that should have been meant for me.
“Ben!”
I ignored Deke’s calls. He could fuck off for all I cared. But the man didn’t listen. Grabbing my arm, he spun me around, getting in my face.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“Other than the fact that you’re in my life?”
Huffing, he stepped back, confused by my anger. “Listen, I’m not here to step on any toes. Your wife wanted the gym space, and I allowed it.”
“You were fucking flirting with her!”
His eyes went comically wide before he burst out laughing. “You think that was flirting? No offense, but your wife isn’t exactly my type.”
“Not your type?” I snapped. Hearing that only made things worse. How could Clara not be his type? She was sexy, smart, and was probably the sweetest woman I’d ever met. And that wasn’t good enough for him?
“Listen, I mean, she’s great, but the women I tend to go after are…younger.”
“Are you calling my wife old?”
“Not at all, but I tend to go after ring bunnies.” He shrugged, his cheeks tinged red.
“They’re young, and they’ll do anything to get close to the fighter.
After a while, it’s hard to date a woman your own age.
What you saw last night was a man desperately trying to get another invitation to your house for a home-cooked meal. That’s it.”
So, it was all fake, all so that he could eat good food, and my wife was only flirting for gym space, like she’d said.
“What about the ladies?” I gestured toward the area they had just vacated.
“Well, it’s not the easiest to have them here while I’m training Sam, but…I’m really fucking tired of eating diner food.”
I was not at all okay with letting him step foot back inside my house, but if it meant Clara got her way, I wouldn’t argue with him.
And if he showed up while I was currently kicked out of the house, I’d make damn sure that one of my kids was there at all times.
It didn’t matter if he said Clara wasn’t his type.
I knew men, and if a woman like Clara was available, someone was bound to go after her.
“So, are we cool?”
Cool. What a fucking idiot. “We’re good.”
I shook his hand, putting a little more force into it than necessary, and walked away. With that settled, now I just had to figure out a way to get back into Clara’s good graces.
She was tired of me, didn’t want me around, and that hurt more than I cared to admit.
I roamed the streets of the downtown area, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with my day now that I wasn’t on the ranch.
The only thing I had to go back to was a mobile home on wheels, and that had probably already been moved, if the past influenced the present.
I found myself at the hardware store, figuring I could shoot the shit with Dick for a while. It had been months since I set foot in his establishment, and he always had a few good tales to tell.
But the moment I walked through the door, Dick and Colleen immediately ducked their heads, doing anything they could to appear busy. His son Scott also ran out the door like his ass was on fire.
“Dick, business going okay?” I asked, striding up to him.
“Oh, can’t complain. Things are busy. Lots to do today.”
“I can see that. How’s the family?”
“Good, good,” he nodded. “So, what can I help you with?”
“Uh…well, I’m redoing the living room for Clara. I thought I would pick out some paint. The drywall is going up soon, and I’d like to have some samples for her to pick out.”
“Oh, well, you can definitely take some samples home, but I’m afraid we can’t sell you paint without written permission from Clara.”
I barked out a laugh at that, but there was no humor on his face.
“Seriously?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“But it’s my house.”
Leaning on the counter, he kept his voice low.
“Son, do you realize how many angry wives have stormed through these doors, demanding a refund because I sold their husbands paint they didn’t approve of?
After the Clemonson debacle, I vowed to never sell another can to a man without written approval. ”
“What if it’s a surprise?”
“Nope, not even then.”
“But it would ruin the surprise.”
“And their anger will ruin my business. Now, if you can find a way to get approval without her knowing the precise details…Well, I suppose I could work around that.”
That was all bullshit. “Let’s say I’m building a man cave?”
“Still need written approval.”
My jaw hardened in anger. “Fine, then I want to repaint the inside of the tiny home on wheels.”
He winced, ducking his head. “Sorry, I heard about that.”
“It only happened last night,” I snapped.
“Yep, and it was all over town by morning.”
This fucking town… “Well, I’m living there now. I want to paint it something more my style.”
“Mhmm, mhmm,” he nodded, sliding a slip of paper over to me. “I’ll just need written consent from Blake.”
“But,” I spluttered, growing angrier by the second. “I’m the one who’s fucking living there!”
“And it’s Blake’s house.”
“And Michael’s. He’s my son. Surely, he has just as much right to paint it!”
“Oh, he does, but as I said, with joint ownership—actually, in any case where a woman is involved, I still need a signature right there,” he said, tapping to the bottom of the paper.
I snatched the paperwork out of his hands and glared one final time before storming out of the hardware store.
This was all bullshit. I didn’t need written permission from anyone, and if no one in town would sell me the damn paint, I’d just go to a neighboring town and get my supplies from a more willing seller.
“Fucking bullshit,” I muttered as I rounded the corner, only to be slapped in the face with a cold beverage that oozed down my face in a slow slide, making its way to the v-neck of my shirt.
Tearing the damn thing over my head, I swiped at my face, getting the worst of it out of my eyes and nose, but there wasn’t much I could do about the sticky matter in my hair.
And when I looked around, no one was there.
I slumped on the bar stool, reeking of strawberries and milk. I had yet to really confront what had happened last night. The moment I walked out the door, my heart hardened around the words spoken to me. I couldn’t think about it, or it would send me into a depression I really couldn’t handle.
“Whiskey,” I grunted at Wayne, who had recently taken up a few shifts at The Beaver.
Quirking an eyebrow at me, he grabbed a glass and poured. “Everything okay?”
“Why do you ask?” I sniped.
“I heard you didn’t come in here often. Should I get Lizzy?”
I huffed in annoyance. The last thing I needed was my baby girl coming out here to comfort me. I didn’t want any of my children speaking their piece, not when I already knew they would take their mother’s side.
“How’s work at the department?”
“Not bad,” he grumbled.
“That why you’re in here instead of out on the job?”
“Wouldn’t want to be accused of being too much like my brother,” he grinned. “You know how Remi says I love to copy him.”
“Well, you have been following him around since you were three.”
“That’s what younger brothers do.”
I snorted at that. “Just like my boys.”
“I keep telling him, one day he’s going to have a family of his own, and he’ll see. They’ll all annoy each other just like I annoy him.”
“Got anyone in mind for him?”
“You know Remi. He’s only got one woman on his mind.”
“Delilah,” I nodded. “Everyone knows he wants her. If he waits too long, someone else will make a move.”
“It’s not that easy. From what I hear, there’s some bad blood between them.”
“Isn’t there always,” I muttered, thinking of my own relationship at the moment.
“I’m guessing you’re referring to Clara.”
“Jesus, is there nothing that doesn’t get around in this town?”
“Careful,” he grinned. “Say that word too loud, and half the town will drag you to church to pray for your sins.”
“Not sure I believe in that stuff anymore.”
“What stuff?” Tanner asked, taking a seat beside me. “Heard you were having trouble with Clara. Lila said it was quite the sight at yoga this morning.”
I rolled my eyes in annoyance at how quickly the rumors flew.
“And judging by the smell, the milkshake bandit is at it again,” he chuckled.
“Why don’t you worry about those boys of yours and keep your nose out of my business,” I argued.
“Ah, they’re all fine boys.”
“Yeah? Is that why I heard Levi is living with Remi now that he’s back?”
At that, he snapped his mouth shut and ordered a drink.
“Yeah, I’m guessing Lila’s not too happy about the way things are going.”
“Somethin’s goin’ on with that boy. Remi and Wayne are fine. Fighting as usual, but Levi…”
“Did he ever tell you why he left?”
Tanner shook his head, taking a sip of whiskey. “Not sure he’ll tell anyone. That boy is as silent as the lamb. His mother, on the other hand…that woman won’t stop nagging him.”
“Now, that I can commiserate with,” I chuckled.
“That why you’re not living at home?”
“Yeah, it was because I didn’t match my socks when I put them away,” I laughed.
“Tell me about it. You know, I got yelled at one morning because I didn’t put the toilet paper roll on the right way.” He twisted, giving me an incredulous look. “Can you believe that? Were you aware there was a wrong way to put on toilet paper?”
“It has to roll from the top!” Bud shouted across the bar. “Anything else, and you’ll end up with a black eye! Trust me!”
I wasn’t sure Clara would ever take things that far, but Bud’s comment started a debate around the bar over which way you were supposed to put on the toilet paper.
Whiskey was poured consistently over the next hour, flowing from the bottle like water.
By the time I hit my third glass, I wasn’t so sure drinking was a good idea.
“You roll from the top so you always know where it is!” Roger Flemming shouted.
“No, it’s from the bottom!” This time, Pastor O’Donnell got up, rather drunk as he stumbled over to Roger. “You always pull from the bottom. Anything else is just stupid!”
Chuckling, I finished my glass and tapped the rim for another. “If that was only the least of my issues.”
“What exactly did she kick you out over?”
“Not sure,” I grumbled, lying through my teeth. “Maybe it was because I left a wet towel on the bed.”
Tanner laughed. “Do that nearly every morning. You know what I hate?”
I grunted in answer.
“When you put a pair of jeans over the laundry basket to use for the next day, and then you get yelled at because you didn’t put them in the basket! Woman, they weren’t in the basket because I was going to wear them again!”
I laughed at that, having done that so many times before. “Don’t they know that you don’t change clothes every day when you’re on a ranch? There’s dirty, and there’s dirty.”
“And they’re not dirty until there’s mud caked on!”
I took another swig, nodding along. “Oh, and what about socks?”
“Please! Socks inside out or not, they still get cleaned! Do women think they only get washed properly if they’re right side out?”
“And what about my damn shoes? Do you know how many times a day my woman bitches at me about cleaning off my shoes before I come into the house? It’s a fucking ranch! Get used to it!”
“Exactly! And what about farting in bed?”
“Oh, please. Like you can help it. You’re sleeping!”
“And if you don’t like it, don’t make food that makes a man fart!”
“It’s not like I do it on purpose,” I laughed. “Hell, it’s a natural bodily function. They do it, too!”
“They do! Oh, but we can’t talk about that. We wouldn’t want anyone to know that a woman passed gas!”
A fork tapped against a glass, bringing the attention in the bar to a smiling couple in the corner, interrupting our hilarious conversation.
“I would just like to announce to everyone that I’ve asked Jolene to marry me, and she’s said yes!” Dirk grinned.
I rolled my eyes, turning back to my drink. “Big whoopty doo. You know, he’s only happy now because he doesn’t realize what he’s in for.”
“Yeah, a lifelong attachment and cold food,” Tanner chuckled.
I grabbed my glass and the nearest piece of metal, clinking it against my own glass. “I’d like to make a toast to the happy couple,” I said drunkenly. “May your marriage be short and your lives be long. After all, murder will get you twenty-five years, but marriage is a life imprisonment.”
I laughed just as a fist slammed into my face and the lights went out.