We walk up the four steps to the front door and somehow I manage not to turn around and run the other way. Although the thought does cross my mind exactly four thousand and eighty-two times.
Past the front door we stop in a large comfortable living room. A blue overstuffed couch sits directly in the middle in front of a TV. A box of crayons and blank papers are scattered around on a coffee table with Disney Junior playing in the background. I wouldn’t know it was Disney Junior, but at precisely the right time the giant logo complete with Mickey ears fills the screen. A catchy tune I remember from my youth blasts from the speakers.
Bennett sets the young boy — who I’m holding out hope might be his nephew, even if he did call him Daddy — on the couch and watches with his hands on his hips as a little boy goes back to coloring.
At no point does anyone stop to explain the small child’s presence in Bennett’s home.
Maybe I hit my head and this is all a dream. Maybe a bullet hit me after all and I’m dead.
Most of my dreams starring Bennett end with him getting naked. I narrow my eyes and stare at the two of them super hard for a good four seconds, but Bennett is definitely wearing the standard Pelican Bay Security black polo shirt. Tucked into his jeans, the fabric is pulled tightly against his chest creating a nice little outline of his pecs and arms.
“Well, come on. Dolores is probably waiting in the kitchen.” Not taking time to look back, Bennett meanders off to the other side of the living room.
Who the hell is Dolores? My stomach flutters. If it is his skinny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, big-boobed, wife I’m going to turn around, leave through their back door, and walk myself home. Any place will be safer than me in a kitchen with Bennett and his wife.
“You made it home. It’s about time. I was about to take Liam back with me. You know how Mr. Harvey feels about dinner not being on the table on time.” The stern, no-nonsense voice floats out of the kitchen and lands on my shoes like a heavy brick.
Bennett stops walking a few feet into the kitchen, which leaves me standing in the weird space between both rooms. I peek my head around the corner to get a look inside his kitchen. On one side of the tiny little island stands a short, plump white-haired lady with wide thick glasses perched on her nose.
Probably not a wife.
The tension that had been building in my bones lessens at the realization. I’m quite sure Tabitha would have told me about Bennett having a wife. Although, I also would have expected her to tell me about him having a son. And since that wasn’t the case, I’m not really sure what to expect. I’ll remain hopefully optimistic.
“Ah, I see why you’re late.” She doesn’t spare me more than a second glance before she turns and opens the fridge, pulling out a large glass casserole dish, the top covered with aluminum.
Bennett teeters back and forth on his feet, nervous like I’ve never seen him before. “It’s not like that.”
Dolores waves a hand in our direction steadily making her way to the white back door. “Tell me about it later. Oven is heated. Directions written on top.”
She gives another halfhearted wave and then the door closes behind her before I get a chance to say two words. Or hell, even one word.
I’m still waiting for someone to explain the kid in the living room.
The whole damn day is starting to weigh on me. I’m tired. And even though my body is so exhausted I can barely keep myself up on two feet, my brain is running a mile a minute. I need to get to the bakery and prep for tomorrow’s breakfast orders, but without a window and the bakery being considered a crime scene there’s no chance of that happening. Instead I’m stuck here at Bennett’s house with him, a child — one I presume is his — and a cranky old woman, who might be his nanny or worse, his mom.
“You should sit down. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
I don’t argue with Bennett’s direction because he’s right. I need something to occupy my mind so I don’t drive myself crazy analyzing everything that’s happened today.
Once my butt is firmly planted on one of the tall stools placed in front of the island, Bennett finds his way to the middle of the kitchen. There are a few scattered napkins and paper plates on the island surface, so I busy myself stacking them nicely.
Bennett opens countless cupboard doors and drawers like he’s looking for dishes but doesn’t know where they are in his own house. Finally, a good three minutes after I’ve finished stacking all the items into neat piles, he’s assembled a huge array of pots, pans, and utensils along one side of his counter.
He works in silence as I count the little black specks in his counter top. Bennett slides a casserole dish along the counter. It matches the one Delores took from the refrigerator with aluminum foil covering the top. He reads directions hastily scratched on top in permanent black marker and then tears the foil off. With a bang, the oven door is dropped down and he slides the casserole dish in only to quickly close the door and set a timer all in under thirty seconds. It’s a bit impressive considering a few minutes ago I worried he didn’t know where he kept his pots.
He reaches behind him to grab a pan when I finally can’t hold in my question any longer. “So, you have a son?”
He chuckles, but not in a funny way. “Oh, you noticed, huh?”
“It was hard to miss.”
Bennett releases a large sigh. From the freezer he grabs a bag of veggies and tosses them on the counter.
“Liam’s mother and I had an on-again, off-again fling. I wasn’t in the states much, but when I was she was always around. It was never serious and I knew as soon as I went back on a mission she found someone else.”
I cringe as Bennett slops at least a quarter of a cup of olive oil in a pan he places on top of the stove. My face isn’t just about the misuse of oil but the start of his story. I’m not sure I want to hear the rest of the details.
He turns on the burner and keeps talking. “Liam wasn’t planned, but he happened over a particularly large stretch of leave, so there is no doubt in my mind he’s mine. I also never doubted I wanted to be in his life.”
