He shot me a sly look. “We never did finishA Christmas Story.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Embarrassment threatened. “I told you never to bring that up.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Consider this your warning then.”
“What about that new spy-thriller that just came out?”
“Yeah, I’d be down for that.”
I pulled up my Amazon Prime account through the TV, found the movie, and ordered it. We talked through the whole damn thing, shooting the breeze, doing stupid voice-overs, and calling bullshit on all the inaccuracies like we knew anything about international espionage.
We kept an eye on the weather throughout, and he left in plenty of time to get home safely before the storm hit. After he left, I took a minute to congratulate myself. That had gone way better than our first few interactions.
Well, minus the whole almost putting each other in the hospital thing.
***
“Can you come over?” Ben asked me a week later. “I need those nimble little fingers of yours.”
I nearly dropped my phone.
“I’m having a hell of a time trying to tile behind the toilet,” he said.
“Tile. Right.”
“What did you think I meant, Ella?” I couldhearthe smile in his voice. Thankfully, he wasn’t there to see the blush on my face.
“Nothing! I’ll be over in a few,” I told him, then hung up before he could tease me.
We’d seen each other nearly every day since New Year’s Eve, mostly over at his place, working on the house, but he’d been by here again to go snowshoeing. That had worked out much better than skiing. It had been a perfect, sunny day. Ben had a blast exploring the woods. He went home and immediately ordered himself a pair of snowshoes so he didn’t have to borrow my spare pair again – which were far too small for his boat-sized feet.
The next night, we’d met at Jack’s for dinner and drinks and cards. Ben had abstained from beer. I kept my mouth shut about it, because I had no idea what his history with alcohol was and didn’t know if he’d been imbibing too much lately or something. Part of me was alittle worried that I might have been too encouraging about drinking when we first met, and I’d since resolved myself not to bring it up again or drink in his presence, on the off chance that he was a recovering alcoholic.
It was getting easier to hang out with him. The conversation flowed free and fast, covering a wide range of topics, most of which we agreed on. The few disagreements we’d gotten into had been more like civil discourse where we logicked each other into corners that neither of us could get out of. He was so rational that it was easy to see where he was coming from. And him me, I think.
It was maddening how similar our debate styles were. God help us if we everreallygot into it. It’d be a three-day event where nothing is conceded at the end and everyone goes home feeling fully respected but no less frustrated. The utter lack of passion in our arguments made it a little easier to see that we might better suited to being friends after all.
And becoming friends we were. Our banter game was solid. Our reno projects had proven that we worked well together. It was no longer a constant struggle to keep my head out of the gutter when I was around him. It was only when he caught me off guard that I slipped up. Like telling me he needed my nimble fingers. Or, like yesterday, tugging his sweatshirt off before I had time to look away. I’d been treated to another tantalizing glimpse of abs before turning my head.
Every now and then, he said something that sounded slightly flirtatious or leading, but I was pretty sure that I was just misinterpreting his tone. That my subconscious was trying to sabotage all the progress I’d made.
“Fred, Sam,” I called. “Want to go to Mr. Ben’s?”
The dogs leapt up from near the fireplace and trotted over toward the front door in answer.
Chapter 12: Ben
It was three weeks into the New Year. Ella should be here soon. We didn’t have plans to hang out, but she called earlier and said she had a surprise for me.
My phone rang from my back pocket. I pulled it out, expecting to see her name on the caller ID. Instead, I was met with Brian’s. Shit. I’d completely forgotten about today’s therapy session.
I picked up. “Hey, man. Ella is about to stop by, so I may have to cut this a little short.”
“That’s fine,” Brian said. “We can make up the time another day, if you need.”
“Thanks.”
