Falling for Bentley (Part One) (10 page)

“Nice pajamas.”

“I like them,” I mumbled as I looked down at my black tank top and my monkey pants. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” I offered, walking into the kitchen.

“Please.”

“How do you take it?” I asked, opening the cup cupboard.

“Just a bit of sugar.”

I poured the coffee and was just about put in the sugar when I heard Bentley start reading out loud, “
And we were both completely and utterly…naked. My girl part was pressing against his thigh and my traitorous body wanted to rub itself against him. Oh my God…I’m a megahoe
.”

I dropped the spoon and went running into the living room to grab my book from his hands, “Bentley, give me that book!”

He held it above his head and kept reading, “
I lowered my head until our faces were inches apart, breathing the same breath and I drank him in. My eyes lowered to his lips and I didn’t hesitate reintroducing them to mine. I kissed him, a soft closed mouth kiss, but deep nonetheless.
”

I jumped against his body, “Bentley, I mean it, give me back my book!”

Laughing, he bent towards my face, speaking softly, “
Breathing the same breath…”

I stared at his lips, watching them twitch as he said each word.

“Your book…”

“Huh?” I asked, still looking at his lips.

“Here is your book,” he slid it into my hand.

“Thanks,” I whimpered, taking a step back. “What did you bring for breakfast?” I asked, desperately needing a change in topic.

Bentley lifted the bag off the coffee table, “Maggie’s breakfast wraps.”

“I-I’ll just go grab us some plates and your coffee. I’ll be right back.” Walking back into the kitchen, I noticed butterflies in my tummy.

Licking some of the ketchup from my fingers I asked, “You never really answered my question.”

“What’s that?” Bentley replied, licking his bottom lip.

“What are you doing here, it’s raining. I told everyone not to come today.”

“I thought I’d run errands with you today,” he answered as he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

“Why?”

“Because I said I would yesterday.”

“When?” I asked surprised.

“When I was giving you back the towel I borrowed.”

“Oh,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks turning warm.

I DAMPENED MY hair and put some mousse in it to make it somewhat bouncy and curly. I added some mascara and lip-gloss and I was pretty much ready to go. I went to my closet and grabbed a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and my favorite sweatshirt before heading back downstairs to the living room where I last left Bentley.

“You ready to go?” I bounced off the last step.

Bentley turned the TV off and stood up, staring at me. “You look great.”

“Thanks. I’ll just grab my rubber boots from the back door then we can go.”

“Do you need me to grab your purse or something?” asked Bentley.

“Nah I’m good. I never carry a purse; those things are a pain in the ass. I just put my debit card and some cash in my back pocket and chap stick in this pocket,” I answered, as I tapped my front jean pocket.

Bentley opened his passenger door for me and offered me the seat belt. “I’d offer to put it around you, but that’s a little out of the friend code.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” I took the seat belt from him and clicked it into place as Bentley shut the truck door and walked around the hood to his side. The smell in Bentley’s truck was yummy, coconut maybe, and very clean.

“Where to?” Bentley asked while hopping in.

“I need to go to the hardware store and see if they have any barn paint.”

“Red, I’m assuming,” he said, putting on his own seat belt.

“Yes, but do you think the guys would mind if I got white as well so they could paint the trim? I don’t like how everything is either all red or all white.”

“Is white trim what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then white trim is what you’ll get, Hales,” Bentley smiled as we drove away from the house.

“So, Bentley, tell me about yourself. Like what you did after high school?” As soon as I asked the question, I noticed his hands clenching the steering wheel. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said in a small voice.

He let out a breath before answering, “No, it’s okay. This is what friends do, right? They talk to each other, let each other know stuff, right?” He took a deep breath and began, “I got a football scholarship to the University of Texas in Austin.”

“Longhorn.”

“All the way, baby,” Bentley beamed. “I was accepted as a general defensive player, but I more or less played middle linebacker.”

“Rough spot to be in,” I cringed.

“Sometimes.”

“Did you get hurt often?”

“A separated shoulder once, and my knee makes a funny popping sound sometimes.”

“What did you take in college?” I probed, shifting towards him.

“I went for my bachelor of science in agricultural studies.”

“Wow.”

“Haley, you sound impressed, like a dumb jock can’t get an education,” he teased.

“Those are your words, not mine, Bentley,” he gave me a pained look. “That’s just a demanding course load. It must have been hard while playing football.”

“It was at times, but it paid off in the end.”

“And then what?”

“Well, I was almost drafted into the NFL…”

“What happened?” I wanted to sit closer to him, knowing there was an interesting story waiting.

“Nothing. My dad got hurt, and I had to come home and help them on our farm.”

“Oh.” I went to reach out my hand, but pulled it back. “How did he get hurt?”

“Long story short, one of the grain truck hoists was stuck in the upright position and wouldn’t come down, so my dad climbed on top to see what the problem was and slipped. His back hit the ground pretty hard, and he was knocked out for a bit. He still doesn’t remember exactly what happened.”

“Is he alright now?”

“Yes and no. He can’t really do any heavy lifting anymore, or bend too much without excruciating pain.”

“That must be so frustrating.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Haley.” He breathed deeply.

The rest of the trip to town was quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I was happy when Bentley finally turned on the radio. A Miranda Lambert song started to play and before I knew it, I was bouncing my knee to the beat and started singing along. Bentley sang with me on each chorus while I smiled as I looked out the window smiling.

We pulled up to the hardware store and Bentley put the truck in park. “I’ll get your door for you.” I took my seat belt off and readjusted my sweatshirt before hopping out of the truck with Bentley’s assistance.

“Why thank you, kind sir, I’m much obliged.”

“You’re welcome, pretty lady,” he mocked back with a twang.

He went to grab my hand, but I stopped him.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. It’s not easy talking about my dad and my
almost
career.”

I turned to face him, “Why would you say that?”

“Come on, Haley, everyone knows I am just a washed up farm hand.”

I placed my hands on his chest, “Bentley, I don’t think that, and I’m sure no one that really matters does, either.”

SEEING THE SINCERITY in her eyes almost made the words feel true, like none of it mattered. I placed my hands on top of hers, leaned in closer and quietly said, “Thank you.”

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite students.” I looked up and saw my eleventh grade science teacher, Mrs. Harris, stopping on the sidewalk in front of us. Haley turned around, but I noticed she didn’t step away from me as she said hi.

“Haley, I heard you were in town for the summer.”

“I am,” Haley said proudly.

“Did I also hear you are teaching at Lawrence Academy?”

“Yes Ma’am. I’ve been there for four years.”

I could feel Haley slouch a little, so I placed my hand in hers and ran tiny circles on the top of her hand with my thumb, giving her support.

“It’s a pretty impressive school to be teaching at for your age. How do you like it?”

“I love it.” I felt Haley take in a deep breath; apparently, I wasn’t the only one with secrets. “What are you doing now, Mrs. Harris?”

“I am the new principal at the elementary school now.”

“How wonderful, my favorite grade to teach is second.”

“What do you teach now?” asked Mrs. Harris.

“My first two years, I taught second, then kindergarten, and last year was my first year teaching seventh grade English.”

“How was that?”

“A hormonal train wreck.” Both ladies laughed.

“So is high school.” Mrs. Harris laughed.

“Are you going back in the fall or are you staying around here?” Good thing I was standing close, I really wanted to know the answer.

Haley let go of my hand and started fiddling with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“When they asked me to teach junior high last year, I was told I could go back to teaching elementary school this coming year. But on the last day of school, the dean came and told me they hired a new teacher for the position and they wanted me to continue teaching junior high.”

I could hear a little tremble in her voice, and I knew Mrs. Harris did, too, when she placed her hand on Haley’s arm. “Well, Haley, you must be one great teacher if that is the case. Any school would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must go before it starts raining again. It was great seeing you both. Haley, when you have a chance, stop in and visit me.”

“You still live on Linsey Street in the yellow house?” Haley asked.

“I do.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you later, Mrs. Harris,” Haley said as she walked away.

Haley took a few steps away from me, but I reached out and grabbed her hand again, “Haley?” She turned around and faced me, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not much to say,” she half smiles. “I’m going back to the city, which I hate living in; to a school where they care more about what I wear than actually relating something to my students; and I have a neighbor that is constantly hassling me to go out with him.”

I instantly felt angry and jealous. “Has he hurt you?” I gritted out.

“No, no nothing like that.” Haley shook her head before changing the subject. “I’m going into the hardware store, coming?”

“In a minute.”

“Find me in there, okay?” she smiled at me.

“I’ll be there in a minute, promise.”

I watched her walk away as I flexed my hands a few times and took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I sat back in the truck to think. Here I am, in the same situation as Haley. Lost in what we want, backing down from the fight of what we need and what makes us happy. Maybe Haley did understand what I’m feeling; maybe she truly believes I’m not a washed up farm hand.

WALKING INTO THE hardware store, I saw Henry talking to Haley about paint.

“Would it be possible to have the paint delivered when it comes in?” asked Haley.

“We can do that for you.”

“Great, let’s do that then.” Haley smiled.

“Should we put that on the farm account along everything else that you need?”