Once in a Lifetime (12 page)

Cathy smiled. “Yeah. You were that.” She cocked her head and studied Aubrey’s reflection. “I was going to overcharge you for this scarf, you know. Because I’m a bitch, too.” She smiled. “But you know? We didn’t turn out so bad after all.”

Ben was leaning against his truck, sipping the coffee he’d purchased from the diner with one hand and beating Jack’s ass in
Words with Friends
with his other hand when Aubrey stepped off the pier and headed his way.

It’d only been about fifteen minutes, but she looked like she’d lost a little bit of the chip on her shoulder. He didn’t say a word as he opened the door for her.

“Pretty scarf,” he said, and watched her hand fly to the material now wrapped around her neck.

But she said nothing.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

More nothing.

“Do you have any gum?” he asked.

“Yes.” She opened her purse, and he reached in and smoothly grabbed her notebook.

“
Hey
,” she said.

He flipped it open. “We crossing anyone off yet?”

She snatched it back and hugged it to herself.

Reaching past her into the glove compartment, he pulled out a pen and handed it to her.

She glared at him for a beat and then snatched the pen. She opened her pad and very carefully crossed off number four.

Cathy.

He smiled at her. “Where to now?”

She reached for his coffee, but he got to it first, lifting it out of her reach. “You could do me next. Seeing as I’m sitting right here.”

“I could
do
you? You think I’m going to
do
you right here in your truck?”

He had to work hard to keep from laughing. “I meant the list. I’m on your list.”

“Oh.” She narrowed her gaze at him, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve told you, you’re
not
the Ben on my list.”

“Prove it,” he said.

“What?”

“If I’m not the Ben on your list, then who is?”

She just looked at him for a long moment. “You have a shovel?” she finally asked.

“In the back. Why?”

“Can you go back to the store?”

“Sure. On the drive there, you can tell me what your definition of ‘do me’ is.”

She blushed some more and ignored him. At the store, she was gone for less than five minutes, and then she climbed back into the truck a little breathlessly. “Head out on Route Ten,” she said.

“You should feel free to show me this bossy side of you in bed anytime.”

She sent him a baleful glance as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed to Route 10. The highway turned inland—not up into the mountains, but east, to the far end of the county. The houses out here were few and far between. There were a few ranches, but mostly these places were older and run-down.

“Turn right,” Aubrey said, looking down at her map app.

Ben followed her directions onto a dirt road, and then onto a dirty driveway. The mobile home there was a double-wide. Sitting on the porch was an old guy in a rocking chair.

Ben stopped the truck. “Is that…Mr. Wilford?”

“
Ben
Wilford,” Aubrey said smugly.

“The mean old science teacher?”

“He’s retired now, but yes. And mean is an understatement,” she muttered under her breath.

“
This
is the Ben on your list?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes, Mr. Egomaniac, this is the Ben on my list. Stay here,” she said, and started to slide out of the truck.

He caught her arm. At the touch, she went still as if prodded with an electrical current.

He knew exactly, because he felt it as well. And it told him something, something he hadn’t been prepared for. They
weren’t
done with each other.

Not by a long shot.

This wasn’t good news. Neither was the fact that he was playing with her. He’d tricked her into needing a ride from him and he’d justified it because he wanted to know what she was up to.

But the joke was on him, because he realized the truth—he just
wanted
to be with her.

That wasn’t good news, either.

“What?” she asked.

More than a little unhappy with his epiphany, he shook his head. “Nothing.” And then he let go of her, gesturing for her to have at it. Whatever “it” was.

She slid out of the truck and headed to the back to pull out his shovel. Then, carrying the shovel, she walked up to the double-wide in her fancy dress and coat, as though she belonged there.

Mr. Wilford stood, eyes narrowed and nearly hidden behind his white, bushy brows. Ben rolled down his window, but he still couldn’t catch any words. He didn’t have any trouble at all catching Mr. Wilford’s bad attitude, though. Ben braced to get out of the truck, but the old man got up, limped to his front door, and vanished inside—but not before slamming the door, practically on Aubrey’s nose.

Damn it, that pissed Ben off. But Aubrey merely squared her shoulders and vanished around the back of the trailer.

Ben waited a minute and then followed. He couldn’t help it if he wanted to make sure she was okay. And that Mr. Wilford didn’t shoot her for trespassing. He risked Aubrey clobbering him over the head with the shovel for not staying in the truck, but he’d deal with that when he got closer. He wasn’t actually too worried, but he’d discovered something about his odd relationship with Aubrey. He preferred kissing her to arguing with her.

Not that he was exactly comfortable with that…

T
wenty-five minutes later, Aubrey slid back into Ben’s truck. The ground had been frozen and was almost impossible to break apart, forcing her to work her ass off. As a result, she was hot and sweaty, but she felt good about the morning’s progress. Very good. Lowering the truck’s sun visor, she studied her reflection in the small mirror there. Not too bad. She swiped at her slightly smudged mascara. Then she pulled out her notebook and, with great ceremony for the man seated next to her, she crossed off
BEN
. “There,” she said to Ben. “All taken care of.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“Yep. Ben’s off my list.” It wasn’t the
right
Ben, of course. The right Ben was seated next to her, but he didn’t need to know that.

Nor did he need to know how much it was killing her, how she was sleeping less and less at night, worried about exactly that.

His being on her list.

Not to mention his reaction when he found out. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him, not yet. He’d walk away, and even knowing that’s what she deserved, she wasn’t ready for it.

“Well, if you’re righting your wrongs,” he said—clearly fishing but coming so uncomfortably close to the truth that she held her breath—“then don’t forget Kristan. Remember how mean you were to her in high school when she took your spot in the school play?”

Kristan wasn’t on Aubrey’s list. Nor would she be. “She tripped me at rehearsal, and I sprained my ankle so that I couldn’t dance the lead. If I were making a list of wrongs to right, which I’m not”—she paused when he snorted, and she sent him a glare—“then
I
should be on
her
list.” She swiped her sweaty brow and sat back, arms still trembling from exertion.

He started the truck and took them back to the highway. “You want to talk about it?” he asked casually.

No. She didn’t want to talk about last night and the best sex she’d ever had. She was afraid she’d beg for more. “Talk about…?”

He glanced at her. “You were out there digging for something—or attempting to, anyway, since the ground was pretty frozen.”

Damn it, he’d sneaked a peek. “A pumpkin patch,” she admitted. She leaned back and sighed. “And if you were spying on me, the least you could have done was come help.”

He gave her a slow, lazy grin that did things to her girl parts. Each and every one. And thanks to him, there were more of those parts than she’d remembered. “You looked like you were doing all right,” he said.

Trying to ignore her annoying reaction to him, which she was helpless to prevent, she sighed. “Gee, thanks.”

“So why were you digging Mr. Asshole a pumpkin patch in the off-season?”

She looked at him. “It’s the off-season?”

He grinned. “Little bit, Sunshine.”

Damn. She’d not even thought of that, and she hadn’t looked at the seed packet when she’d bought it earlier at the grocery store. “How about I answer a question, and then you answer a question?” she suggested.

“Fine,” he said. “You first. What the hell was that back there?”

She slid on her sunglasses. “Mr. Wilford gave me an F in eighth-grade science because he didn’t like me.”

“He didn’t like anyone.”

“But I’m the only one he failed. He said I was cheating when in fact I wasn’t.” She paused. “Okay, so I
was
cheating, but only to help Lance.”

“The kid with cystic fibrosis? The one who runs the ice cream joint on the pier in the summer?”

“Yeah. He’d been going through a rough patch and had missed a week of school. He couldn’t catch up, so I was feeding him the answers to the test. Mr. Wilford caught me.” She’d never forget how he’d stood over her, those bushy brows—which were black then—bunched together. And how he’d said so harshly,
You’re a selfish girl, Aubrey Wellington. No one likes a selfish girl
.

She’d heard
No one likes you
, and she’d reacted with predictable bad behavior. “Lance tried to tell Mr. Wilford the truth,” she said, “but he wouldn’t listen. He thought I was a bad seed, and his mind was made up. So he failed me.”

She’d then been disqualified from two beauty contests that her mom had already paid for and bought gowns for, and it’d been a huge drama in the house. “I tried to talk to him about it after school,” she said. “I found him in the school garden, working on his pumpkin patch with the garden club.” She blew out a breath and a low laugh. “I can still see him standing there among his prize pupils and his equally prized pumpkins, pointing a dirty, bony finger in my direction. He said”—she adopted a low baritone—“
You, Aubrey Wellington, will
never
amount to anything
.”

“He thought we were all miscreants,” Ben said quietly. “But he shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Actually, in hindsight I probably deserved it,” she said. “I was a total shit. But there was something in his tone that got me. And then he just walked away, like I wasn’t worth his time.”

“He spoke like Darth Vader,” Ben said, “and walked like he had a stick up his ass.”

She laughed. “Yes,” she finally said. “But at the time I didn’t think about that. I was embarrassed and humiliated.” She paused and then admitted the rest. “I kicked one of his pumpkins and broke it loose from the stem. I didn’t find out until the next day that it’d been one of his award-winning pumpkins, the one he’d planned on taking to the annual pumpkin contest—which had a thousand-dollar prize.”

“Ouch,” Ben said.

Aubrey sighed. “He cried. Mr. Wilford cried.” She was still staring out the side window, so she was surprised when she felt his warm fingers close over hers.

“You were just a kid, Aubrey.”

“Yeah, but not really. And I cost the school garden club that grand. I’ve always felt so bad about that.”

“So you dug him a new pumpkin patch,” Ben said. “What’s your plan, to grow him another award-winning pumpkin?”

She bit her lower lip, and he laughed. “It is,” he said, and laughed again.

“Stop that.”

“It’s cute,” he said.

“Cute?” She almost choked on the word. No one had ever called her cute before, not ever. Her phone rang, and she pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number. “Hello?”

“Aubrey Wellington,” said Darth Vader’s voice. “What did you do to my backyard?”

“Mr. Wilford?” she asked, glancing over at Ben in shock.

“Well, how many other people’s yards did you decimate today?” he asked testily. “What the hell did you do?”

“I…dug you a pumpkin patch,” she said. “I planted pumpkin seeds.”

Ben smiled.

“You
what
?” Mr. Wilford asked.

“I ruined your prize pumpkin all those years ago, remember? And how did you get my number?”

“Of course I remember what you did. You cost me a thousand bucks and ruined the best pumpkin I ever grew. And this is Lucky Harbor. It was easy to get your number; I called Lucille.”

“I’m going to grow you new pumpkins,” she said.

“Off-season?”

She sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t plan that part so well. But maybe one of them will be a prize pumpkin,” she said. “It’s my way of apologizing.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me now,” he said. “I’m too old to be worried about the watering.”

Well, crap. She hadn’t thought of that, either. “I’ll do it,” she said.

Ben laughed and then choked it off when she glared at him.

“
You’re
going to water the pumpkins?” Mr. Wilford asked in disbelief. “You, Miss Fancy Pants?”

“Yes,” she said through her teeth. “I am.”

“Pumpkins like to be watered regularly,” he warned.

“Fine. Um, how often is regular—” But he’d hung up. She slid her phone away.

Ben was still grinning.

“Not a word,” she said, Googling “pumpkin patches.” “Unless you know how often to water pumpkins.”

That night, Aubrey closed up the bookstore after a decent business day and smiled as she walked across the scarred hardwood floors. They’d been a surprising find beneath the carpet. The wood was nice and light, and it seemed to open up the store.

Happy, she headed up to her loft. There, she pulled out her notebook and eyed the crossed-off items, including
BEN
.

She’d improvised there, and she thought maybe she’d actually pulled it off. But now, without Ben’s prying eyes watching her, she added one more item to the bottom of her list.

THE HARD ONE
.

T
he next morning, Ben went to work on the countertop for the serving area of the Book & Bean.

Aubrey was two weeks away from her grand-opening party.

Though it would be close, the renovations would be done on time. Ben thought of the coil wire in his pocket. He’d hoped to get at least one more day of driving Aubrey around, even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was up to now.

And it wasn’t trouble. In fact, it was the opposite of trouble. She was working at righting her wrongs, and it was tugging at a part of him that didn’t want to be tugged.

He hadn’t planned on feeling anything for her and was now trying to resign himself to the fact that they had more than just some seriously explosive chemistry. He’d told himself that they could get past that by spending some quality naked time together, but they’d already tried that, and it’d backfired because he’d gotten past exactly nothing. In fact, now all he wanted was more. A lot more.

It was 7:00 a.m. before he heard signs of life from above, and thirty minutes more before the telltale
click, click, click
of her boots alerted him that she was coming down. And, like Pavlov’s dog, he started to go hard.

He was ridiculous.

“Ben?”

And just like that, the sound of her husky voice finished the job. He wondered what she’d say to a second round of wild monkey sex, right here, right now. If he just stripped her out of her clothes and sat her on the stack of wood he still had to measure and cut, he could then step between her legs. He’d slide his hands beneath her sexy ass, of course, to prevent splinters. Or they could use her couch. Better yet, he could bend her over the stack of boxes of new stock that’d come in, shove up her dress, and take her from behind.

Yeah.
That
was the ticket.

She came around the corner, and he unbuckled his tool belt, letting it fall to the floor. They were going to do this, and it was going to be good—

“I’ve got company,” Aubrey said. She went to the front door of the store and opened it.

And then one, two, three…
eight
women came in behind her, one of them his own aunt Dee.

Lucky Harbor’s resident hell-raisers.

Dee smiled and waved at him, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as she passed him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Croaked.

“Aubrey’s invited my book club to meet at her store,” Dee said. She frowned at him. “You sick, honey?”

“No.” Dee’s book club was a weekly event—“club” being a loose word for a bunch of women who got together, drank too much wine, laughed so loud they could break windows, and talked about everything
but
books. The “club” had been kicked out of the diner, the bar and grill,
and
the senior center. They’d been talking about having to disband.

He glanced at Aubrey.

“I wanted them to have a place to go,” she said.

“You’re going to need a ‘crazy’ permit,” he said.

Dee smacked him upside the head. “We’re trying something new,” she said. “Meeting in the early mornings. You know, before people get…feisty.”

Ben sent Aubrey a
good luck
look that she ignored. Instead, she walked her guests through the bookstore and sat them in the chairs and on the couch that he’d just made nefarious plans for.

“So,” she said, looking to the seniors’ ringleader—Lucille, of course. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” Lucille said. “We’re so honored that you’d have us, honey.”

Ben shook his head, cleaned up, and left out the back door. Then he stared at Aubrey’s car in the lot.

Which was minus its coil wire.

He wrestled with his conscience and lost. Blowing out a sigh, he popped open the hood and began to put it back.

“Whatcha doing?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, then gave Luke a long look across the engine compartment.

Luke grinned. “Scared ya. You committing a misdemeanor for any reason in particular?”

“I’m not committing anything. And why are you here?”

“Got a call that a suspicious-looking character was lounging around back here and screwing up cars that belong to pretty blondes.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, I didn’t get a call,” Luke said. “I stopped by Ali’s shop to say hey.”

No, he’d stopped by the shop to get laid. Because Luke had an unmistakable I-just-got-laid look to him. Ben sighed. He’d like to have that look…

“So want to tell me what you’re up to?” Luke asked.

“Hell, no.”

Luke grinned. “That’s okay. I already figured it out.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Sure I did. You kissed Aubrey last week, and now you’re doing something stupid to fuck it all up.”

Ben narrowed his gaze. “Let me guess how you know about the kiss. Facebook?”

“Ali.” Luke shrugged. “You were the one stupid enough to do it up against the wall and visible through the window. Rookie mistake,” he said, and tsked.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ben asked.

“Nope. So. You and Aubrey, huh? You two going to…?”

Well, at least he didn’t know
that
much. Ben didn’t answer. Instead he made sure the coil wire was back in place and shut the hood. Then he headed toward his truck.

“Hey,” Luke said. “Waiting for the details here.”

“Ask your fiancée.”

Ben did a morning run with Sam, who, unlike some of his nosy-ass friends, did
not
press him for details on the Aubrey situation.

After their run, Ben headed to Seattle. He found Bob’s Auto Shop, parked, and walked to the first open bay. A linebacker-size guy rolled out from beneath a lifted truck, wearing overalls and no shirt. He didn’t need one; he had tat sleeves down both arms and over his chest. The patch on his overalls read
BIG ED
. “Can I help you?” the giant asked.

“I’m looking for Dan Ingalls,” Ben said.

Big Ed gave a chin jerk toward the next car over. The guy working on it was built the same as Ed the Linebacker, though he was wearing a shirt. He had tats, too, including a teardrop beneath his eye.

The patch on
his
overalls read
BIG BOB
.

Ben was sensing a pattern here. “How you doing?” he asked Big Bob.

Big Bob didn’t smile, just looked at him as he slowly cracked his knuckles.

A real friendly bunch. Terrific. “Looking for Dan Ingalls,” Ben said again.

Big Bob did the same chin jerk Big Ed had done, toward the back of the shop this time. Ben headed back there, very aware that he now had the two guys at his back and most likely yet another one in front of him somewhere. He found a truck, hood up, and indeed there was a guy standing on a step stool, head buried in the engine compartment, torquing something.

“Dan Ingalls?” Ben asked.

Dan didn’t stop what he was doing or even look up. “Who wants to know?”

“A friend of your kids.”

Dan went still, not even pulling his head out of the compartment. “What?”

He didn’t repeat himself. Still keeping track of the big boys, Bob and Ed, at his back, Ben kept his voice low. He wasn’t too worried; he’d been in worse spots—far worse—but there was no reason to be stupid.

Dan straightened. He was easily one-third the size of his two co-workers. No muscles. No tats. What he did have was crazy, wild hair, the exact color of a copper penny, flying around his thin, angular face and stark blue eyes. He was skinny as a toothpick and short enough to barely meet Ben’s shoulder. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Ben McDaniel. I live in Lucky Harbor, where your girls live in a foster home. A
shitty
foster home,” Ben added harshly. “And I wanted to see why they aren’t with you.”

Dan looked a little shaken. “I don’t have kids.”

Ben arched a brow.

Dan came down off the stepladder and hitched his chin to indicate Ben should follow him out of the garage. They passed the very large Big Ed, and then the equally large Big Bob, both of whom were watching Ben with stony expressions.

Ben ignored them completely.

“Sorry about that,” Dan said when they were outside. “They’re…protective of me.”

“Why? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Dan looked away for a moment, then gained a slight measure of Ben’s respect when he met Ben’s gaze straight on. “I was.”

“And your kids?”

Dan shook his head. “I told you, I don’t have any.”

“Odd, since you have two mini-me’s in Lucky Harbor who are your spitting image.”

Dan gave a sharp exhale and walked away, going about ten feet before pacing back. “I waived my rights so that they could get adopted.”

“Then why are they in a foster home?”

“Because their mom died,” Dan said.

“And you didn’t feel the need to take them?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m not father material.”

“Should have thought about that before you had them,” Ben said.

Again Dan paced. “What do you mean, the foster home is shitty?” he finally asked.

“You don’t know what ‘shitty’ means?”

Dan sank to a concrete planter that had nothing it in but dirt and cigarette butts. He shoved his fingers through his hair and studied his knees. “I didn’t want this life for them.”

“Well, what the hell did you think would happen when their mom died and you didn’t step up?”

“I—I don’t know. I…I was in jail for a while.”

“Yeah, your daughters told me.”

He looked sick. “They know?”

“I’m not sure what they know, but they said you’re up for, and I quote, ‘the big one.’”

“Jesus.” Dan rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth. “They’re five.”

“They’re growing up fast.”

“Jesus,” Dan said again.

“What did you do time for?”

“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dan said.

Ben gave him a
go on
look.

He let out a long breath. “They got me on armed robbery and involuntary manslaughter.”

“Christ.” Ben shook his head. “Never mind, then. I’ve got the wrong guy for those girls.” He turned to go.

“Wait.”

Ben turned back. “What?”

“How are they?”

“What do you care?”

Dan winced but held eye contact. “Listen, you have no reason to believe me, but the whole arrest…it was a mistake, okay? But regardless, I did the time. I paid the price. I’m out. Making myself a life.”

“Without them,” Ben said harshly.

“I thought they were safe. Happy. Why would I mess with that?”

“Because they need their dad.”

“I’m not equipped to handle kids,” Dan said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

“How about caring about their welfare? You have a job. You’re a mechanic, so I assume you have wheels. You could get visitation. Hell, you should have custody.”

“I have visitation rights. But I’m not good with kids.”

“You’re their dad,” Ben said again, voice hard. “That means it doesn’t matter that you’re a pussy—you man up.”

“Hey,” a low, angry voice said. “You don’t talk to him like that.”

Ben turned to Big Bob and got sucker punched in the eye.

It was the only punch Bob landed.

Five minutes later, both Bob and Ed were on the ground, Bob holding his ribs and Ed holding his jaw. Ben brushed off his hands. Ed had landed a good blow to the kidney, but Ben was okay. Still, he should probably get back to a gym. Breathing a little hard, he turned to Dan.

Dan, eyes wide, raised his hands. “Hey, I warned you. I told you they were protective of me.”

“Yeah.” Ben touched his already aching eye. “Thanks.”

“You’re pretty fucking
badass
,” Dan said, impressed. “You were in prison, too?”

“No. I was in hell. Go see your kids.”