I could smell his aftershave, something woodsy. Very Vermonty—duh. I took notice of his cargo-style khakis and somewhat pressed dress shirt today. He’d never been the type of guy who dressed to impress.
“No hospital for you today, Doctor?” I asked, unsure why I was so prickly.
He chuckled. “Ha, as if. I’m there every day, even the days I’m not supposed to be there. No surgery today, so no scrubs.”
“Oh.” Stumped, I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I see patients in the office a few mornings a week, so I get to dress up. Notice the sexy outfit?” He laughed, doing a whole Vanna White thing as he gestured to the front of his body.
As if I need any more excuses to notice his fit physique.
I shook my head, pretty sure Ben’s rapid change in personality from the other day would lead to a bad case of whiplash. “Well, lucky you. I wear the same thing every day here,” I said, but my joke fell flat.
Ben scowled. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, or lesser than. Lord knows I endured enough of that to last a lifetime. You look fine.”
As I snatched up the next cup, Zara called to me.
“Murph, it’s your break. Roddy will come and take over the bar. Hit it, girl. Leave that drink right there.”
“Guess that’s my cue,” I said, sliding under the escape hatch at the end of the bar. “Nice seeing you,” I told Ben, wondering why he wasn’t rushing to leave.
“Maybe we can sit and catch up during your break?” he asked, not moving from where he was standing.
“Why?” I turned toward him. “You didn’t seem so excited to see me the other day.” I felt my cheeks warm at my forthrightness and my hair frizzing more by the second because of the sweat suddenly beading at the nape of my neck. Half from embarrassment, the other half from shame.
Ben’s blue eyes locked on mine. “I’d like to apologize, hear what’s been going on with you. You know? Catch up. For old time’s sake.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Come on, Murph. We used to be sort-of friends, right? After all, you saw me during my worst night ever. You know I haven’t been able to drink liquor with a mixer since?”
“Really? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” I tilted my head slightly so I could really take all of Ben in.
“Maybe a bit much, but the memory lasted for quite a while. Kind of like the smell did back then. Remember how terrible I reeked? That’s what a few hours hanging over the toilet, marinating in your own puke, will do.” His eyes twinkled again, and this time his humor seemed genuine.
“Oh, you think it’s funny now, do you?” I propped my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes on him. “I thought you were going to die on me that night. How was I going to call your parents and explain it to them? I’d never even met them. And as for my parents, they would have had a major conniption. Tarnishing the family name with consorting ... and a death on my watch.”
Oh my God. I had to go there, mentioning the family name. It was a bad move in so many ways.
Scraping his fingers through his unruly hair, he said, “Yeah, the family name. Is it still all you thought it was cracked up to be?”
“Not really, but it’s all I have now.” I cleared my throat, trying to fill the awkward pause hanging between us.
“So, what do you say?” Ben said, giving me that smile that always melted me. “Take your break with me? Let’s talk about something else other than that night or your family name. Neither bring back good memories for me.”
“Okay,” I heard myself say, and for the first time in a while, I really meant it when I agreed to do something.
3
Ben
Yesterday, I’d kind of been relieved when Murphy wasn’t at the Bean when I dropped by. Only because it gave me a chance to interrogate Zara as soon as I made it to the register.
When did Murphy start working here? Did Zara know what kind of money Murphy came from? Was she a pain in the ass?I bombarded Zara with questions, and she answered each one like a diplomat.
Murphy had only been at the Bean a few weeks, including training. Zara suspected Murphy came from money, but it seemed like her personal situation had changed and she wasn’t forthright in explaining. No, she wasn’t a pain in the ass. Maybe a slow learner when it came to the coffee bar, but she was trying hard.
I’d been shocked as hell to see Murphy the other day after I’d stopped there as I rushed to check on Branson in between surgery and heading back to see follow-up patients. My car was racking up miles on the two-lane road between Montpelier and Colebury, but I owed it to Brenna to keep an eye on my nephew.
