Bree
We stop at the cutest little shop on the side of the road. It’s painted Pepto-Bismol pink with white stripes and filled with every flavor of saltwater taffy I could have imagined—and many I would have been fine without knowing.
“Maple bacon?”
“It’s not too bad,” Benny says.
I pick up a few and toss them in my bag. “What about pickle?”
“I hate that one. But you should try it.” He reaches for a white one with multi-colored dots and takes a big handful. “You’ll love this one too.”
I lean around him and read the flavor: frosted cupcake. He knows my sweet tooth so well.
We fill two bags. I’ve picked at least one taffy in every single option, because this is a novelty and I need to try chili mango and cherry cola. But when I go to pay, Benny won’t let me cover it.
“I’ve got this,” he says, his cologne clouding around us and making me lightheaded.
“It’s my candy. I’m not letting you take this home tonight.”
He laughs. “You can have it. But I feel responsible for at least half of these choices, so it’s on me.”
He wasn’t the one walking the aisle and grabbing handfuls of candy like petal-happy flower girls. But I don’t argue.
I watch him tap his card while butterflies multiply in my stomach. He carries one bag while I hold the other, and the wind hits us in the face the moment we step outside again. A car rushes past on the highway directly next to where Benny’s truck is parked, and he eyes me. “Cows or sand?”
“What?”
“It’s a pretty simple question.” His blue eyes soaking me in are anything but simple.
“Cows,” I say, because it’s ridiculous.
When Benny grins, I know I gave him the right answer. He walks around to open my car door for me as another truck rushes by on the highway, and soon we’re off. It’s warm, despite the cool breeze, so I roll my window down and breathe in the chilled salty air while I unwrap my first saltwater taffy.
Which is tougher than I expect. “These things will take your teeth out.”
“They could,” he agrees, shooting me an amused glance as he pulls off the highway onto a one-track road away from the ocean. “Find an orange one for me? White center.”
I do, then unwrap it and hold it to his lips. He lets me feed it to him while he drives, and when my finger brushes his mouth, I almost melt into a puddle right there on his pleather seats.
Who am I kidding? This leather is definitely the real thing.
But I do the mature, responsible thing instead and shove another candy into my mouth. This one is much softer, the flavors exploding in my mouth.
“I saw all the posts about your heartbreak,” Benny says, driving along the one-track road like there’s no threat whatsoever of another car coming our way. “Alonzo, right?”
“Yeah. But they didn’t get it totally right.
” I chew around the glue in my mouth. “I broke up with him because he had wandering eyes. He jumped immediately to a stylist who helped my girl sometimes, so I made the right move. Everyone wants to paint it as the big reason I ran and hid, but that narrative sold music, so my mom let them say what they wanted. We didn’t promote that line of thinking, but we didn’t refute it, either. ”
Benny’s gaze sweeps over me before settling back on the road. “It couldn’t have been easy, though.”
“Are breakups ever?”
“No.”
I shrug. “Lonnie lost his job in the process, so I think it was worse for him overall. I couldn’t keep him on as my assistant, which didn’t make me look good.”
“Part of the reason your mom wanted to lean into the heartbreak thing?”
“Probably. To be honest, I only half-listen at PR meetings.”
“When your mom is in charge, it’s safe to assume your best interests are being considered.”
You’d think so, but that doesn’t always feel like the case. I can’t bring myself to say this, though, or Benny will ask more questions I’m not presently equipped to answer. The truck slows, and he pulls off the road, parking alongside a wire fence.
“Come on.”
“Bring the candy?”
“Leave it,” he says.
I stick a few in my pocket, because I’m not crazy, before I slip out of the truck and walk around the front to meet Benny on the deserted road.
I unwrap a taffy and pop it in my mouth, absorbing the view.
Rolling green hills stretch out in front of us, dotted with black and white cows lazing in the sun, chewing slowly.
The vibrant hills meet with a stunning blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.
I can see why Benny always considered this place an oasis.
The ocean is rocky and cold but beautiful in a vibrant, rugged way that’s the polar opposite—pun intended—to what I’m used to back in Sunset Harbor in the Gulf. But it’s no less gorgeous.
A black baby cow runs across the field directly in front of us.
“Cows!” I say, awwwing at how adorable it is.
We cross the street to get closer to the cows. It’s so silent here, I can’t hear anything except the chirping of birds and the odd moo in the distance. Wind faintly rustles my long, fake blonde hair, but we’re in a curve in the road and the hill to our south is blocking most of the ocean breeze.
“Bay Hill Road,” Benny explains. “It’s the local shortcut, cutting out part of Highway One, but it only really shaves off a minute. The real draw is the view.”
“The owners don’t mind?”
“Nah. These belong to Sierra’s uncle, and I know him personally. He runs a dairy farm up the road. We’re not trespassing, and we’re not bothering anyone.”
The calf runs a circle around her mom, then disappears in the shade of the single tree over a trough of water.
Benny leans on a wooden post and looks at me. “I’m conflicted between apologizing for my grandma’s behavior and siding with her.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. She gets away with a lot, but after her heart surgery, we’ve been anxious about anything that might upset her.”
“And the fainting thing wasn’t concerning?”
“It definitely was. She saw her doctor Monday, and he didn’t seem too worried.”
My shoulders relax. “Good.”
Benny’s head tilts to the side a bit, his attention fully on my face. “You mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
“Okay.”
“What does that mean?”
“I didn’t expect you to—”
The silence is broken by the young calf mooing not too far away, but I can’t tear my eyes from Benny. “To what? To care?”
“I know you have a tender heart,” he says gently. His phone buzzes, so he pulls it out and rejects the call before sliding it back in his pocket.
“Then what?” And why do I need to know so badly? I take a step closer, challenging him.
“I didn’t expect you to have any…I don’t know, Bree.” He scrubs a hand over his face, agitated. “To grow attached.”
My body goes still. His word choice does something interesting to my chest, because that’s exactly what’s going on here. I’m growing attached to his grandma, and this little town, and his ice-cold ocean.
But really, I’m growing attached to him.
I bump him with my shoulder. “It’s pretty normal to care about the wellbeing of other people.”
“I know—that’s not…you fit in too well.”
“I’m full of surprises,” I say lightly, even though everything I’m feeling is the exact opposite of light.
He scoffs. “Yeah, I’d say.”
The calf runs up to the fence and moos at us before running away, causing both of us to laugh. I step up next to Benny, my shoulder pressed into his side, and watch the little cow play. “She has no worries in the entire world.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment before I glance up and find him watching me, his attention solemn. “Bodega Bree doesn’t, either.”
“I like the sound of that.”
His phone rings again, and he pulls it out of his pocket. I catch Colby’s name flashing across the screen before Benny silences it and puts it away again.
“Bay Hill Benny has no worries either,” I say.
He laughs. “Sure. Maybe together, Bodega Bree and Bay Hill Benny will get that song finished.”
“Most of the words are there.”
“I’m struggling with the composition.”
“You weren’t meant to do it on your own.” I tilt my head back to see his eyes better. “I’m sorry I hid the last few days. I don’t know if it’s obvious or anything, but that’s kind of my go-to move when things freak me out.”
“I’ve picked up on that.” His smile is dry. “I was trying to give you space, but everything I’ve done with the melody feels wrong. It would be easier if we did it together, so I have a better idea about the vibe you want to go with.”
A gentle breeze tickles the back of my neck as I nod slowly. “We can do that. Did you bring your guitar?”
“Here?” He tucks his chin in surprise, but a smile spreads over his mouth. “Actually, yeah. I have one in the back seat. It’s old, but it’ll work.”
I don’t question why he has an instrument at the ready. Benny’s a musician. Even if he stepped away a decade ago, that kind of thing doesn’t just leave your blood. I watch him retrieve the guitar from the truck before I head to the back and let the tailgate down, then hop up and let my legs swing.
The truck dips when Benny sits beside me. He settles the guitar on his lap and strums. “Do you remember the words?”
“Not perfectly.”
“They’re in my phone.” He pulls up the notes app and finds the lyrics we came up with together, then hands it over. When I read over the words, a sick feeling settles in my gut. This is more than an apology; it’s giving far more credit to Jaida than she deserves.
I swallow my reservations and sing the first few lines. Then I try them again another way.
“Wait,” Benny says. “I like that.” He strums, singing it back, and we’re off.