Ben settled the bags of produce in the trunk of the Prius—which he was spending a fortune on renting, it must be noted, just to prove a point—and reached for mine. When all was tucked away, he slammed the trunk closed, then leaned against it. Without warning, he gripped the top of his shirt with both hands and yanked. The row of pearl snap buttons ascended to their highest form by doing what they were born to do: snapping open to reveal the elegant lines of Ben’s collarbones, the hard planes of his chest and a smattering of dark hair.
Down, Stoner.
“It was so hot in that tent. Especially since you made me stand around forever, listening to you haggle with those farmers.” Ben laced his fingers together over his stomach in repose.
“Three dollars a cucumber is highway robbery.” I clutched at my own collar to let some air in. It was October, but it was also Texas, and today had been unusually warm. And, of course, there was Ben. He of the square jaw and broad, muscled body, newly unsnapped.
I really needed to get laid. I was moving it to the emergency column.
He squinted at me against the setting sun. “You were good in there. You managed to find people who really knew Senator Wayne, and then you had the right things to say to them. I’m grudgingly impressed.”
Pride almost dizzied me. “Yeah, well. Everyone knows the best way to someone’s heart is through the people they love.”
Ben cocked his head and smiled quizzically. “I guess so.”
I cleared my throat. “Now all we have to do is track down Ely Gunther and plead our case. Best to do it in person.”
“I’ll find him,” Ben promised. “The might of the government, and all that.”
I started to shift toward the passenger door, thinking we were done, but Ben reached out and gripped my arm.
“You never told me. How was the rom-com weekend?”
I smiled and stepped closer—but only a little, so Ben’s hand wouldn’t move off my arm. His hands were big, his fingers slightly rough from the gym or whatever he did in his spare time that I would not think about.
“Luckily, some anonymous hero dropped off provisions right when we ran out, so the weekend was saved.” I shifted closer, and Ben’s hand dropped, grazing my waist before he gripped the back of the car. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
He smiled—and didn’t move away, despite how close we were. He just kept looking at me, his mouth eventually softening into a smaller smile. It was knowing, tender, the way he was looking at me—there was no other way to describe it. It was exactly the way I was afraid to look at him.
“You’re lucky to live close to your family,” he said finally. “I wish I lived closer to Will.”
“Youcouldmove to North Carolina and go work for their governor. Get all up in their business. Be a pain in someone else’s ass. Just a thought.”
He flashed a grin, then thought of something. “Hey,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been curious. Have you and your dad started talking again? I get your reasons not to. But I used to hope you would one day.”
It’s strange how things hit you. One minute, I was standing in a rodeo parking lot, having a normal day, and the next, I was free-falling into a long, dark well. I jerked back.
“Oh, shit.” Ben straightened. “What’s wrong?”
“No.” I forced the word out. “I never did.”
There was a long, stretched-out moment of silence, in which I looked desperately at the inside of the Prius, where I wanted to be sitting, this conversation wiped away. I felt like a wounded animal. I wanted somewhere to hide.
“Lee?” Ben put a hand on my elbow like an anchor. “I’m sorry I asked. Do you want to go home?”
A stupid heat burned behind my eyes, and I looked away, blinking fiercely. There was no way on earth I was going to cry in front of Ben, so I gathered myself and looked back at him. And you know what? Fuck it. I felt an urge to be self-destructive all of a sudden. Maybe I’d shock him and Ben would fumble for his keys and drive me home in silence and regret ever trying to know me. I cleared my throat. “My dad died in a car accident two years ago.”
“Jesus.”To my surprise, Ben reached for me and pulled me firmly against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Lee.”
I blinked against his shirt.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“I never made up with him.” I spoke the words into his chest, giving him my closely guarded confession. “He died thinking I hated him.”
Ben drew me tighter. “No. He knew you loved him. Trust me, Lee. He called you every few months, remember? He knew. He was just waiting on you.”
Suddenly, I didn’t care that we were in the rodeo parking lot and anyone could see us. Ben was holding me, and it was like a dam had finally broken.
