Once in a Lifetime (23 page)

“Fine,” she said and crouched low to look for another rock. Not a large one to bean him over the head with—though that had a
lot
of appeal—but another small one for his window. She wanted to get his attention, not get arrested.

Then, behind her, Ben’s front door opened, and she nearly fell onto her butt. He was wearing a pair of low-slung black knit boxers and nothing else but sheer male perfection. His hair was mussed, his eyes heavy-lidded, and he had a way-past-five-o’clock shadow. Unable to stop herself, she let her gaze run south, over the ripples of his abs, the ridge of his obliques, which were bisected by a trail of dark silky hair that disappeared beneath those deliciously indecent low shorts.

In spite of the frigid air, she felt herself begin to heat from the inside out. She had to swallow hard to keep her heart from jumping right out of her throat. When she finally managed to look into his face again, he arched a dark brow.

And just like that, her temper kicked back in. “I have more to say to you,” she said.

“You’ve been drinking.”

She pointed at him. “Yes.” She paused and tried to gather more of her wayward thoughts. “But that has no bearing on this.”

He said nothing, just leaned against the doorway. He had a scar she’d never noticed before over one pec—one really great pec—and she wondered where he’d gotten it, and if it’d hurt. And if she could kiss it—

“Aubrey,” he said.

She met his gaze. Right. She had things to say. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t sleep with you to make amends. I slept with you because I wanted to.”

He still didn’t say anything, and she pointed at him again. “And you know what? It was your own damn fault. It was those jeans you wear, and the tool belt. It was the size of your hammer!”

From off to the side came a few commingled gasps of shocked laughter, and both Ben and Aubrey turned to look.

Jack’s front window was open, and three faces were pressed up to the screen.

Ali, Leah, and Jack. The Three Stooges, though only two of them were drunk as skunks.

Aubrey narrowed her eyes and shooed them, but no one shooed. “I said no eavesdropping!”

“Jack’s window just happened to be open,” Leah said. “So really, that’s not eavesdropping. At least not technically. Because technically—”

Jack put his hand over her mouth and shut the window, though none of them moved away.

Ben gave them a single hard look, and Jack grinned. But he did lower the shade on the window, leaving them alone.

Ben turned back to Aubrey. “The size of my hammer?”

Yeah…she couldn’t believe she’d said that, either. She opted to try to find the moral high ground and lifted her chin. “You’re missing my point.”

He crossed his arms over the chest that she wanted to lick from the sternum to the edge of his boxers and beyond.

Focus
, she ordered herself. “I couldn’t help myself,” she said. “Being with you. I knew it was a bad idea. Hell,
you
knew it was a bad idea. And yet we did it. We
both
did it, Ben.”

He continued to just look at her, and this reminded her that she was mad. “Look,” she said. “I’m tired of you not saying anything. So stop being quiet and speak up.”

“I’m used to quiet.”

“Well, that’s just great,” she said, tossing up her hands. “Because I’m so not good at quiet.”

“No kidding.”

She refused to let him get her off track with his pissiness, even if he had good reason for it. “Ben,” she said, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorrier than I can say about what I told Hannah. I was a horrible bitch back then. But I’m not that person anymore. I have no excuse except that I was miserable and Hannah had everything I wanted, including you. But that’s not who I am now.”

He still didn’t say anything, but she could tell he was processing what she’d said. She should just shut the hell up, but she had this chance to talk to him. She didn’t know if she’d get another, so she needed to put everything out on the table. “And I never meant to keep the truth from you,” she said. “I honestly didn’t know how to tell you, much less fix it.”

“It can’t be fixed,” he said.

There was another gasp from Jack’s duplex. At this, Ben swore under his breath and yanked Aubrey inside. He slammed the door and faced her, hands on hips.

“It can’t be fixed?” she repeated shakily.

“Well, what did you think, Aubrey? You stole two years of my life with Hannah. How did you expect me to react? And you slept with me before you told me. And you kept sleeping with me.” He paused, and she wondered if he was remembering how little sleeping had actually been involved.

And how good it had been between them…

“I can’t get past that part,” he said quietly. “I was on your list so that you could make amends, not mess up further.”

“I wasn’t with you because of her,” she said. “Or the list. That part…just happened.”

He closed his eyes and swiped a hand over them.

Not exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for. “We have something, Ben. You know it, and I know it. Here, in the present, we have something. I don’t want to walk away from that, or go quietly into the night. That’s not who I am.”

“No,” he murmured, meeting her gaze, his unfathomable. “You’re the one who waits until midnight, decides she has something to say, and can’t contain it.”

She was pretty sure that wasn’t exactly a compliment, so she ignored it. “I’m in this, Ben. You’re important to me. It’s why you were on my list.”

“You and that list.” He inhaled, long and slow, and then shook his head. “I just want to forget it. Get over it.”

She was standing there, helplessly struggling to overcome her past, fix her present,
and
secure her future all in one fell swoop. But she was watching Ben’s face, and it told her the truth, the terrible truth. “I’m willing to fight for you, for us,” she said slowly, taking in the devastating realization. “But you’re not.” She staggered back a step, feeling like she’d been hit by a train. “You’re not,” she repeated to herself softly, trying to make it sink in.

It didn’t want to sink in. “You’re not willing to fight for us at all,” she said. “You’re really going to use this as an excuse to get out.”

“There’s nothing to get out of,” he said. “There was no us.”

Rubbing her chest, she stared up into his eyes, which were wiped of emotion, just completely blank. And that hurt the most, she thought dazedly, in shock that he could do this, just walk away. She couldn’t fight that. She didn’t know how. And though she hated it, she had no choice. She had too much pride to be the only one in this, the only one fighting.

“I’ll be by to finish the wood trim,” he said.

He didn’t finish the rest of that sentence, which was clearly “and that’s it.” He didn’t have to.

“Forget it,” she said.

“It was a gift,” he told her. “And I finish what I start.”

She had to laugh. It was better than crying. And she’d cried her last tear over him, she promised herself. “Are we seriously having some stupid conversation about the trim after you just dumped me?” she asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t dump you,” he said. “We were never exclusive.”

And the hits kept coming, even if it was the utter truth. “You’re right,” she said. “This was never a relationship—which we were both perfectly clear about from the get-go.” She really hadn’t meant to get involved, but she had, and the damage was done. He’d been it for her, the only man she wanted to be with. Not that she’d ever fully allowed herself to believe…

Okay, she had. She’d let herself believe. Her mistake. But she’d been there; she
knew
she wasn’t the only one who’d fallen, damn it. He’d done it, too. He’d shown it in every look, every touch. Every kiss. “You can pretend this is about the past, but it isn’t,” she said. “I think you fell for me, too. And I think it scared you. I get that you’ve been hurt. But that’s life, Ben. Life is one big fat gamble, and the odds are
never
in your favor. So you either go for it anyway and toss the dice or you don’t play. But not playing?” She jabbed him in the bare chest with her finger. “That’s the coward’s way out. And I hadn’t pegged you for a coward. Figure your shit out.”

B
en was still standing there in the butt-ass-cold doorway of his place in nothing but his boxers when Jack opened his own door. “You’re an idiot,” he said, and then ran down the sidewalk after Aubrey. Grabbing her, he redirected her 180 degrees and poured her into his car.

Ali and Leah came out of Jack’s house, both taking the time to glare at Ben as well.

“What he said,” Leah told him, gesturing her head toward Jack.

And then they were gone, leaving Ben alone to wonder when the hell everyone had gone from wanting him to steer clear of Aubrey to wanting them to be together.

The next morning, Ben got up early to head into work. It was a Saturday, which was perfect. He could catch up a little bit. He swung by to pick up Pink and Kendra and give them a lift to their rec ball soccer practice.

Because five-year-olds didn’t judge. Things were black and white for them. They didn’t give a shit that maybe he was afraid to be happy.

The girls were in their yard playing with…Dani. Proof positive that the logic of women was far beyond him.

At the school field, he stopped and put the truck into park. He unbuckled the girls and held on to the back of Pink’s jacket when she went to slide out of the vehicle. “Hold on a sec,” he said. Christ—he was going to do it; he was really going to ask. “I thought we didn’t like Dani.”

Pink shrugged. “She said she was sorry for being mean.”

Kendra nodded, her pigtails flying.

Just like that, just that easy. Ben looked into their sweet, innocent faces and felt something shift within him. They were so damn resilient. So easy to please. So completely full of life.

And so full of forgiveness.

He wished like hell he could be five again, when a “sorry” fixed everything. But it couldn’t now. Nothing could.

The girls hopped out of the truck, but not before pressing sloppy wet kisses on his jaw in thanks.

Bemused, Ben sat there for a long moment, absorbing the fact that he’d just been schooled on life and forgiveness by a couple of five-year-olds. God, he was tired. So fucking tired. But every time he closed his eyes, he could see the pain in Aubrey’s gaze. It haunted him.

He’d hurt her. She’d finally opened up to someone—him—and he’d tossed it right back in her face.

She was trying to right her wrongs, trying to be a person she could live with, and he’d used her past against her. Which meant this wasn’t about Aubrey at all. It was about him and his own fears of letting someone in as far as he’d let Hannah—which hadn’t worked out so well for him.

But what had happened to Hannah hadn’t been his fault, and Aubrey was right. Life was a risk. He could hide from that or…live it.

The choice was his.

Figure your shit out.
That’s what Aubrey had told him, and at the time that had just pissed him off because he’d thought she’d been the one who needed to figure things out.

But he’d been wrong about that, too.

The news of what Aubrey had done to Lucky Harbor’s beloved Ben McDaniel spread like wildfire. That on top of the nudie pictures pretty much did her in.

Foot traffic to the store on the day of her grand-opening party was practically nonexistent, and Aubrey knew in her gut she was sunk. “No one’s going to come to the opening tonight,” she told Ali and Leah as they arrived to help her set up.

“That’s okay,” Leah said. “We’ll eat the cupcakes ourselves.”

“Not exactly the point,” Ali murmured.

Leah took in Aubrey’s obviously devastated face. “Right,” she said quickly. “We’ll buy a bunch of books, too.”

The bell above the door pinged, and they all turned in renewed hope as Carla walked in. She wasn’t in scrubs today but was wearing a dress, and at the sight of her, Aubrey’s anxiety ratcheted up a couple of notches.

“Wow,” Ali whispered. “You have a look-alike.”

Aubrey ignored her. “Hey,” she said to her sister.

“Am I early for the grand-opening party?” Carla asked, looking around.

Aubrey found her voice through her surprise. “No. We’re it. We’re the party.”

Leah held out a tray of cupcakes as Carla looked around in confusion.

“Long story,” Aubrey said.

“Cupcake?” Leah asked.

Carla took one and moaned. “Oh, my God.”

Leah beamed. “Better than an orgasm, right?”

“I don’t remember what an orgasm feels like,” Carla admitted, and they all laughed.

Aubrey poured her a hot tea. “Thanks for coming and supporting me.”

Carla met her gaze. “Well, we are sisters.”

Aubrey felt some of her anxiety drain away as she nodded, unable to speak. But though her anger had drained as well, she was still flatlined by an unbearable sadness. She’d handled things wrong—all of it. “The party wasn’t my smartest idea. Who really opens a bookstore these days?” She shook her head. “No one, that’s who.”

“Well, that’s a piss-poor attitude, missy,” Lucille said, coming into the store, carrying a stack of papers. “I’m surprised at you. You’re supposed to be all kick-ass—Wonder Woman. Did you ever see Wonder Woman give up?”

“Lucille,” Aubrey said. “You know how much people loved Hannah. You know I can’t compete with that. Not after what I did.”

“What you did,” Lucille said, “was human. All of us have stuff we’re ashamed of. Every single one of us. And if people don’t remember that, well, shame on them.”

Carla looked at Aubrey. “What happened?”

“She was human,” Lucille repeated, and patted Carla’s hand. “And nice to see you here, honey.”

Aubrey shook her head at Carla’s questioning gaze. “Later,” she said.

Or never…

“What is all that?” Ali asked Lucille, gesturing to the things she’d brought.

“I made flyers to help bring people in for the party.” Lucille held them up. It was a cartoon of a blond Wonder Woman. Her hair was drawn to resemble Aubrey’s own smooth mane and was held back by a gold crown with a star in the middle. She was standing among stacks and stacks of books, hands on hips, looking pretty kick-ass. In the background were brownies, a teakettle, a laptop, and a tool belt.

“A tool belt?” Aubrey asked.

Lucille smiled. “I see Ben in here pretty regularly, so I wanted to make sure people knew that this is a hot-guy magnet. Nothing says ‘hot guy’ like a tool belt, you know.” She pulled three automatic staplers from her huge purse and handed them out. “Okay, girls, time to get busy.”

“Me, too?” Carla asked, holding a stapler, staring down at it.

Aubrey shook her head. “No, you don’t have to—”

“Sisters,” she said to Aubrey. Lucille handed Carla a stack of flyers, and Carla took them.

Aubrey smiled past the lump in her throat. “Thanks.”

Lucille had grabbed a cupcake in each hand and was sinking into a couch. “Hustle, ladies,” she said around a full mouth. She licked chocolate off her lips. “Go on, now.” She waved a cupcake. “No time to waste. I’d planned to put up a notice on Facebook, but as it turns out, I’m grounded from my account.”

“How do you get grounded from your own Facebook page?” Carla asked.

Lucille shrugged unrepentantly. “One too many pictures of hot guys not wearing enough clothes. But I started an Instagram account, so it’s all good.”

Ben sat at his desk. Because it was a Saturday, employees who happened to be in the building kept to themselves, making it quiet. Usually his favorite state.

I’m used to quiet
, he’d told Aubrey, and he’d meant that. But today it haunted him. Because he also liked Aubrey just the way she was: fiery, passionate, tough. It was bothering him that he’d let her think he didn’t like those things about her.

There was a lot bothering him. He was a first-class asshole, as Jack had made clear. Jack was a lot of things, but as much as Ben hated to admit it, one of the things Jack almost always was was
right
.

Yes, Aubrey had taken away two years of time that Ben might have had with Hannah. Might. Because the truth was, he’d made the most of those two years. He’d enjoyed the hell out of himself, and an even bigger truth was that he wouldn’t want to take that time back. He’d been too young for a serious relationship with Hannah back then, and only in hindsight could he see that. If they’d stayed together, he’d have blown it anyway.

All on his own.

And then there was Hannah herself. Ben had loved her—he’d loved her with everything he had, and she’d loved him. But she’d never have come to his house in the middle of the night and thrown rocks at his window to demand his attention. She’d never have yelled at him or made a scene. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have fought for him. She
hadn’t
fought for him, when it had come right down to it.

Instead she’d let him go without so much as the truth. Or any words at all. She’d tossed him away.

As he’d done to Aubrey.

He dropped his head and thunked it on his desk a few times.

“Careful, you’ll shake something loose.”

Ben lifted his head and found Lucille standing there watching him. “What are you doing here?”

She showed him a flyer for Aubrey’s grand opening, and he had to smile at the image of Aubrey as Wonder Woman.

It fit.

“I’m making sure people remember to go to her grand-opening party,” Lucille said.

Ben nodded. “You’re a good person, Lucille.”

“I am,” she said. “And I thought you were.”

“What does that mean?”

She just looked at him with her rheumy, knowing eyes.

“You’re going to have to give me a hint,” he said.

“How about a couple of hints?” Lucille said. “Such as since when do
you
judge someone for making a mistake? You’ve made plenty yourself, Benjamin McDaniel. Remember when you and Jack and Luke broke into the Ferris wheel’s machine room and set it running in the middle of the night? Or how about when your aunt had the entire search and rescue team looking for you when you’d gone night surfing? Everyone thought you’d drowned, but there you were on the harbor, right on the beach, sleeping through your own rescue.”

He winced. “I was young and stupid.”

She gave him a baleful stare.

“I’m not going to discuss Aubrey with you,” he said flatly.

“No, of course not. We’re discussing your stupidity. Your assness. Your—”

“I got it,” Ben said tightly.

“Yeah? Then do something about it, big guy.”

“For the record,” he said, “I was just getting ready to handle this situation.”

“Well, could you speed things up a little bit?” she asked. “Our girl doesn’t have all damn day. Right now she’s all alone in her shop surrounded by nothing but books and cupcakes that no one’s eating.”

He didn’t like that image. “No one came?”

“Her friends Ali and Leah came,” she said, with an emphasis on
friends
, as though he should be ashamed of himself for not being one of them. “Her sister showed up, too,” Lucille added. “But no one else. Lucky Harbor thinks it needs to be mad on your behalf.”

Hell. That was not what he wanted. “It’s none of anyone’s business. What happened is between me and her.”

Lucille crossed her arms. “Are you referring to way back, when she got mad at Hannah and told her a lie about the two of you? Are you seriously going to tell me that when you heard
why
Aubrey did it that it didn’t make a difference to you?”

Ben went still, thoughts spinning in his head so fast he felt whiplashed.

Lucille was staring at him. “You didn’t even ask Aubrey why she told Hannah that lie, did you?”

“I asked,” he said. But she hadn’t answered.

And he hadn’t pushed.

“Oh, for Peter, Joseph, and Mary’s sake!” Lucille said, exasperated. “I need to be paid for this job.”

“What job?”

“Matchmaking. You young people don’t even know how to communicate. Listen to me very carefully. Aubrey caught Hannah in a lie—a big one—that caused someone else a lot of problems. It pissed Aubrey off, because at that time she wasn’t getting away with diddly-squat.”

Ben shook his head. “What lie could Hannah have possibly told that would have upset Aubrey? They weren’t even friends.”

Lucille was clearly over this. “Remember that car accident she was in?”

Ben did remember. Hannah had been in the passenger seat when her best friend had gotten in an accident. Later that friend had been sued by someone in one of the other two cars involved. Thankfully, Hannah had been unhurt, but she was devastated over her friend’s troubles from the fallout. “Yes. I remember.”

Lucille’s expression softened. “Honey, this isn’t easy to say. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead.
Hannah
was driving that night. The two girls switched places before the police came because Hannah had been drinking. She’d had a scholarship to lose and a father she was terrified of. A DUI couldn’t happen for her.”

Ben stared at her. “That’s crazy. Hannah would never have let someone else take the blame.”

“But that’s exactly what she did,” Lucille said quietly. “And Aubrey saw it.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because that someone else is my granddaughter.” Lucille patted him on the arm. “She said that Aubrey confronted Hannah about the accident, and Hannah denied it.” She gave Ben a long look. “Hannah used Aubrey’s bad reputation against her, to discount anything Aubrey might say. And then Aubrey let her mouth run off with her good sense when her temper got the best of her.”

Ben didn’t know what to make of any of this, and he wasn’t at all sure that the details mattered at this point. It was in the past, and it would stay there. It didn’t matter—none of it mattered; he knew that now. Standing, he headed to the door, but then he stopped to go back for the flyers. Lucille plowed into the back of him. Her hands came up, and because she was scarcely five feet tall they ended up on his ass. He craned his neck and looked down at her.

“Sorry,” she said, but didn’t remove her hands. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she gave him a little squeeze.

“Lucille,” he said ominously.

“I know.” She pulled her hands away—rather reluctantly, he thought—and sighed. “It’s just been a long time since I had my hands on buns that firm.”