I ignore his teasing as we climb in, both still kind of winded. I turn to him, “I’m not only bad under pressure, I am a really, really bad liar. Probably should have told you that before tying the knot. Ugh! What are you even doing here?”
“Visiting you?”
“Why? I thought I told you. I hate surprises. ”
He opens his mouth and shuts it. Then says, “Sorry. Clear expectations. Right. Well. I didn’t think, I just…came to visit. I’ve kidnapped you now, so shall we eat?”
“I guess,” I say, still ruffled. I always bring soup and a hot sandwich for lunch. Tuesdays I have broccoli cheddar with a turkey melt. I was looking forward to my usual.
“Aaand,” the billionaire is leaning forward, studying my face that’s been zoned out, thinking about food. “My ego takes another solid hit to the jugular. Good Lord, woman, it’ll be quick. It can count as our appearance for this week.” Benedict adds next to me.
“Sorry, sure. I’m just, all…thrown off now.”
“I see that. Come, what’s the best food in town? I’ll make it up to you.”
“Probably Evergreen Grill, though I haven’t been there in years,” I think aloud. Benedict pulls it up on his phone and the car starts to pull away. His huge watch catches the light, sparkling in contrast to the plain beige building behind him. Which reminds me just how different his world is from mine.
“Wait,” I put a hand on his but quickly pull away. Why is his hand so warm? And large…I refocus. “This will be a huge press bump for them, right? You being there? At the restaurant?”
“Most likely, some New York paps have probably been camped out nearby because you live here.” My head rears back. “You, I’m afraid, are the wife of one of the most famous and some might say most sexy men in the world.”
“Ugh, whatever. If it’ll be good for her, then let’s go to Harper’s. She will love it and I think she could use the press.”
I give directions to Nigel and field questions about the area for the ten minute drive from the outskirts of town into the actual town.
We pull up to Harper’s and get out. Benedict looks up at the sign.
“The Roasted Chestnut? Really? Is everything in town named that way?” he asks as he shields his eyes from the sun with his hand.
I stare up at the faded wooden sign and exhale, “I graduated from Jolly Juniper High.”
He gasps, “No.”
“Yes. Like I said, it’s all cute and fun until you actually live here.”
“It’s a tiny bit cute, I think.”
“You would,” my eyes roll up to the sky.
“Which Christmas story is it with the ghosts and the man with the mutton chop beard?”
“Scrooge?”
“Yes! Dickens, of course.” Benedict turns to me, “Darling, if you get any grumpier I’m going to be on the lookout for Marley and Marley to appear at any moment.”
“Bah humbug,” I deadpan back.
He laughs and then wraps his arm around my shoulders, “See? Surprises are fun. We’re having fun already, yeah?”
“Uh huh,” I say sarcastically, but I’m smiling wide and he seems elated about it.
We surprise Harper, who almost faints, and then try to help her business by sitting in the window and ordering all her bestsellers. Her coffee shop is more of a bakery than a cafe but she has a few savory options that can pass as a lunch order.
I am keenly aware of the photographers across the street as we sip coffee and talk about this crazy town. Even more so when Benedict insists on feeding me a bite of his first dessert.
“Come on, they’ll love it,” he says, still finishing his own big bite.
He holds out the pumpkin cupcake with his fingers and my heart rate spikes. This is so weird. We’re freaking married?! And now he’s feeding me?
