Come and Talk to Me (17 page)

“Because until you’ve tried it, you’ll never get it.” They reached her back porch. “Besides,” he said as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I lied about the mountain lion. I just wanted to walk you home. Good night, Reggie.”

She was furious, but she wasn’t going to let him know it. Not shouting obscenities at him as he walked away killed her, but she wasn’t going to let him know how much he upset her. He wasn’t going to win this round. It took a little more effort not to slam her door, but she caught herself in time. Still fuming, she poured herself another glass of wine. She swirled the red liquid in the glass as she tried to devise a plan. It was a toss-up whether or not to try even harder to avoid him or find a way to get even. It should have been a no-brainer which one was going to win.

~*~

The next morning Reggie drove to town to stock up better with groceries. The house had a wonderful walk-in pantry and chest freezer to fill up. She could easily avoid going to town for two weeks at a time, longer if she could do without milk, fresh fruits and veggies. Without Van to cook for, her meals had become very simple. She usually skipped breakfast and just had coffee. Lunch was mostly grazing here and there on whatever she had handy and she usually threw a salad together at dinner with some grilled chicken or made a single helping of pasta.

Other than the grocery store, she did have one other destination in mind. There was no sporting goods store in town, but the hardware store had a modest selection of guns. The manager didn’t hide being leery about her at first, but she assured him that she knew how to use one and had completed a safety course. That wasn’t a lie.

Before moving to Maui, Reggie had purchased a small handgun for personal reasons. She never wanted to have to use it, but she had it in her nightstand at home just the same. Troy had taken her and Bri to the range often; they were both very good. As far as shotguns went, she wasn’t comfortable with anything bigger than a twenty gauge. She didn’t see the need for anything bigger anyway but after looking them over, she chose a handgun. When she asked for the Smith & Wesson Model 22, the manager grinned.

“You like the classics?”

“I used to have one like it.”

“I like a lady who knows her guns.” He reached for it then the ammunition.

She really couldn’t point out a Colt from a Glock, but she was familiar with the one gun and thought it would be best to stick with what she knew. She wasn’t about to correct the manager since he thought she knew more than she actually did. Accepting the gun, she hoped he wouldn’t try to talk guns with her any further.

They went outside and she shot a few rounds at a target. The manager commented on her skill as they shook hands goodbye.

That night before sunset, she lay flat in some bushes by her house and waited. It didn’t take long to hear someone crunching in the path. When Ben finally approached, she fired at a tree a few feet away from him. She expected him to jump or holler in fear; he did neither. He barely flinched, but he did stop in his tracks.

“Gordon said you picked up a gun. I’m glad you took my advice; I just didn’t think you use it on me.”

Fuming, she stood up, refusing to let Ben see her frustration. “Is that you, Ben? I was afraid you were a mountain lion.” Casually, she brushed herself off.

“You really should be careful. You could have hit me if you were any good.”

“I have great aim. I already told you I couldn’t shoot a living creature. Fortunately for you, you still manage to fall slightly in that category.” She turned to walk toward her porch.

“Bet you dinner I have better aim.”

“I don’t partake in the manly ritual of a challenge, Mr. Bentley. As a matter of fact, call me a chicken and see if it matters.”

“Are you chicken? And I keep telling you to call me Ben.”

“I’m only chicken that I won’t have enough restraint not to shoot off one of your more favorite parts if you don’t start keeping your distance. I moved here to get some peace and quiet.”

“And what a great place for that it is,” he said, undaunted. “Come on, I’m getting hungry. Best outta six cans buys burgers at Ike’s.”

“Cans?”

He pulled her along. “I have them all set up.”

There was a small range set up off the path a little way between their houses. Ben and the old owners must have traveled a lot between their places because the path was well worn. He had a floodlight on over the shooting range and targets. As soon as Reggie knew she was within range, she shook her hand free of his and fired off her shots. She knocked can after can off the log as Ben stood there with his mouth agape. There was one can left standing, but she dropped her gun to her side. “I only had six shots and I’ve already used one,” then she added, “and I already ate.” She turned to walk away. He let her go.

T
HREE
D
AYS
H
AD
P
ASSED
without seeing Ben. Reggie had mixed emotions about that. She was finally successful in scaring him away, but she grew lonely without him pestering her. It was an odd feeling for her. She tried to shake it off and pretend to enjoy the quiet. That was getting hard to do; things were becoming too quiet.

The lake was beautiful that day, perfect for soaking up some sun, but she was again disappointed that Ben didn’t make an appearance. She took her time walking back to her house, sad not to hear so much as a peep from his home. After deciding to call it an early night, she showered, put on her favorite kitty pajamas and curled up on the couch with a new book.

A machine rumbling like a motorcycle pulled up in front of her house. She opened up the curtain and caught Ben getting off a four-wheeler. He made it to the front door and gave it a hearty bang before she was there to open it.

He smiled at her attire. “Sylvester fan?”

“I wasn’t expecting company.” Reggie stepped out on the porch, closing the door behind her, making it obvious she wasn’t inviting him in.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

“I was getting ready to settle in with a book.”

“Come on. The trails are more fun than a book. Grab some shoes.”

“I really don’t want to go, Ben. Maybe some other time.”

He smiled, apparently glad that she finally called him Ben and not Mr. Bentley. “That’s crazy talk. It’s a perfect time. The weather couldn’t be better. The sun is about to set and is gorgeous from Oak Hill. Grab some shoes and let’s go.”

“Really, Ben, I—” He surprised her when he scooped her up in his arms. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been a hermit since you moved in. You need to get out of the house.”

“Is that some kind of professional opinion?” she asked when he placed her on the seat of the machine.

“It’s
my
opinion and no charge.” He leaned in closer to her. “Now, where are your shoes?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, stubbornly, then reached back and held on to the rack on the back of the ATV. There was no way she was going to hold on to his waist when they drove.

“Suit yourself.” He climbed on, started the engine and drove off toward the forest. He didn’t take the trails too fast or rough. He climbed straight to the top of the mountain that was beyond their properties. They caught the sunset just in time. Of all the things from home, she missed the sunsets the most. She did enjoy it more than she was going to let on.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

He pointed off to the distance. “Look over there.”

“Are those deer?” She slid off the four-wheeler to take a closer look.

He hurried to the ground and pulled her down. “They’ll take off if they catch our scent.” She lay still next to him, grinning ear to ear as she watched the doe and twin baby fawns play.

He looked over at her and smiled. “Now there, see? Doesn’t hurt so much, does it?” He touched the corner of her mouth.

That made her stop smiling and she stood up. “The sun is down. Can we go back now?” She walked back toward the four-wheeler when she suddenly screamed and hit the ground with her knees.

“What happened?” Ben asked as he rushed to her side. She rolled over and grasped her ankle. “Holy crap, Reg. That’s a mother of a thorn. I told you to grab your shoes. Hang on, I’m going to pull it out.” Her eyes remained fixed on his.

He waved his hand in front of her face. “Hello?”

“Hmmm?” is all she could say. She was having a horrible case of déjà vu. She hadn’t looked at the wound; she wasn’t in her usual distress from seeing anything remotely gory, but she was terribly confused. Although she was staring at Ben, his features became Van’s. She stared at his hair, his lips, his Adam’s apple and deep into his eyes. Finally feeling ‘home,’ she smiled, despite the discomfort in her heel. There was a sharp pain causing her to suck in a deep breath, then in an instant the eyes before her turned green once again and the face became Ben’s.

“You all right?” he asked as he tossed the branch aside.

Her eyes welled with tears, not because of the pain in her foot, but for the one that now filled her heart. A crying gasp escaped as she brought her hands to her face.

“Ah, hell.” Ben leaned down and brought her to his lap. “It’s okay, darlin’.” He rocked with her and stroked her hair as she allowed herself to cry freely. Let him think the thorn hurt that bad. She didn’t care. The tears needed to flow. It had been a while and she wanted a good cry.

~*~

After a few minutes of comforting her, Ben stood up with her still in his arms. “I’ll take you back to my place. We’ll get it cleaned up.” He walked over to the four-wheeler and straddled it with her still clinging to the front of him. He steered with one hand while the other held her tight. There was nothing serious about her injury. There was no rush to get back to his place. He took his time on the trails, taking the bumps and curves with great care, thoroughly enjoying the closeness of her next to him at last.

When they reached his house, he pulled up to the porch and killed the engine. She still hadn’t budged or said a word. “You okay?” She nodded into his shoulder. “Notice how I’m not saying ‘I told you so’ about grabbing your shoes?”

“Oh, shut up.” She buried her face deeper.

He carried her up the stairs and placed her on the porch swing. It was made out of the same type of wood that her furniture was, supported by two chains hanging from the roof over the deck. “I’ll be back out in a second.”

Again she nodded and wiped away the tears. He came out in a few minutes, carrying an ice cream pail.

“Ice cream?”

He pulled out a small bottle of tequila. “Not exactly. This here is what you might call a redneck first aid kit.” He sat next to her and dug through the items in the pail. It held antiseptic cream, Band-Aids, aspirin, and a few other items. He handed her the tequila.

“Is that to sterilize wounds?”

“Nope. It’s to drink. Take a swig.”

“I don’t like tequila.”

“I don’t care.” He pushed the bottle to her chest. “An outburst like that was hardly over a thorn in your foot. You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” She removed the cap from the bottle and took a long drink, coughing as she put the cap back on.

He pulled her foot into his lap and rubbed at her heel with a pre-packaged alcohol pad. She pulled her foot back at the stinging, but he brought it back again and gently blew on it. He covered it with a large Band-Aid, then gave it a defiant kiss and grinned at her.

Reggie pulled her foot back and dropped her legs down so she was sitting normally on the swing. “Thanks for the redneck first aid.”

“My pleasure.” He scooted closer and stretched his arm behind her. He longed to lean in and kiss her, but he stopped himself, straightened back up and removed his arm. “I wish I could put a Band-Aid on whatever else is ailing you.” He took the bottle from her, swallowing a long draw of the tequila as well.

“Would you mind taking me back? I don’t want to walk all the way. My heel feels like it has a heartbeat.”

“As a matter of fact, I would. I don’t bite, Reggie. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you! I just want to go home.”

“To what? An empty house? You don’t even have a TV. I know you’re not in a hurry to watch a show.”

“Please?”

“Let me make you dinner first. I still owe you that burger for the shooting.”

“What if I said I was a vegetarian?”

“Are you?”

“No.” She took the bottle from him and downed another swig. “Where have you been anyway?”

“You miss me?”

“Like a thorn in my foot.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Workin’.” He stood up and led her in his house. “I’ll start the fire; you can start making the salad.”

They shared pleasant conversation over burgers and a Caesar salad. Ben didn’t want to push things; he left the subjects up to her. She offered very little about herself. He knew she wasn’t currently working, but he didn’t ask how she managed to get by without a job. She made reference to previous jobs working at lumberyards, but that was as personal as she got. Having noticed a tan line from where a wedding ring used to be. Ben was curious what her story was, but he wasn’t going to push it right out of the gate. He certainly wasn’t going to inquire if she was hiding from a lover, which is what she seemed to be doing. It was a toss-up between that and brooding over one that left her.

Since the subject was on lumber, he explained to her about making log furniture to support himself.

“The wooden furniture, like the pieces that are at your house, are in big demand. I build smaller things like coat racks and such, too, when I’m asked. It’s good money and I make my own schedule. I can take off fishing whenever I want to, well, almost anyway. I had to deliver a whole mess of furniture for a small hotel out of Colorado Springs. That’s where I was the past couple days. A lot of it had to be finished getting put together on the spot.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be sure to let you know next time I’m going to be gone for a few days.”

“I assure you, that’s not necessary.”

He led her back out to the front porch. “I’ll be right back.” After a minute, he came out with a jacket and two beers. He put the jacket over her shoulders and handed her a beer.

“I thought you were taking me home after dinner.”

“The beer is dessert.”

“I’ve already had one with dinner, not to mention the tequila.”

“So have another.” He sat on the porch swing and patted for her to sit next to him.

Reluctantly she dropped down.

He tapped their bottles together as if in a toast. “See that barn?” he asked as he pointed to it.

“That dilapidated building is a barn?”

“It will be when I’m done with it.”

“You think you can fix that?”

“I know how to swing a hammer.”

“I think the tool you are looking for the name of is bulldozer.”

“It has a good foundation and frame. I can re-side and roof it. It’ll be as good as new.”

“What’s the wood in the shell?”

“Pardon?”

“What is it? Redwood? Oak?”

“How do I know?”

She let out a heavy sigh and walked toward it. “Uh-uh,” he said, stopping her. “Not barefoot again.” He ran in and picked up a pair of sneakers for her.

“I’ll fall for sure in those,” she protested as he dropped his size thirteen shoes in front of her size seven feet.

“Want me to piggy back you?”

She stepped into the sneakers.

Ben was a few paces behind her as they walked out to the barn, grinning the whole way. He didn’t think about re-doing the barn until that moment. The way she talked about the lumberyard, he knew she’d have a say on the subject. She took the bait; he only hoped she never found out it was bait. He patted his back for his quick thinking, of course, now he had to re-build his barn. Glancing down at her ass, he grinned.
Worth it.

After studying one of the main support beams, she turned to him. “You don’t know oak when you see it?”

“Oak? No. Why would they use oak on a barn? Isn’t that for finish wood like a table or something?”

“Not a hundred years ago, which is how old I guess this building to be.”

“One hundred next year, actually. There’s a sign on the other side. That’s why I’d like to restore it rather than tear it down.”

She walked over to the siding, taking her time examining it. She placed her head on it, looked down the wall, and ran her hands over it. Satisfied, she turned to Ben again. “If you take these boards off right, you can re-mill them and they’ll look brand new. This redwood is in awesome shape. It must be heart since I don’t see any termite damage at all.”

“Heart?”

“Termites aren’t supposed to like redwood but like everything else, it isn’t what it used to be. Things are harvested so much younger these days. Termites go at redwood now with almost as much vengeance.” She was staring at the wood, but he was staring at her. When she caught him, she stopped and returned the stare. “What?”

“You know your stuff.”

She leaned down to pick up a small rock then scratched at the surface of the siding. “Smell that.”

“Smell it?”

“Just smell it.”

He leaned in and smelled it. “Sorry. Doesn’t do anything for me.”

Leaning in with her eyes closed, she let out a sign. “I love the smell of redwood.” Apparently she could tell Ben was staring at her. She quickly opened her eyes and stood up straight. Swallowing a few long swigs of the beer, she finished almost half of it. “You going to take me home now?”

“Will you help me with the barn?”

She laughed. “What can I do?”

“You’ve said more about it in five minutes than anyone has said in fifty years. Help me, Reggie. I don’t know this stuff. Some contractor will rob me blind.”

“I can’t help you build your barn, Ben.”

“Not build it, but help with the lumber. Help me count of how many yards of material I need or whatever.”

“Board feet; not yards.” She corrected him with a smirk.

He held back a grin. He knew what it was called. He would have called a homerun a touchdown if it would get her to help. “Do you know how to figure that stuff out?”

“Any monkey with a tape measure could figure that out.”

“Well, obviously I’ve failed primate school.”

She laughed again. “I’ll come over tomorrow morning with what I need.”

He held her shoulders as he planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll owe you big time!”

She crossed her arms. “Would you kiss your contractor like that?”

“Maybe, if he had your ass.” When she spun around to walk away, he took hold of her arm. “I was teasing. I’ll keep my distance. I don’t want an enemy out of my only neighbor. I may need to borrow a cup of sugar someday.”

She held up the beer. “For the great desserts you make?”

“Precisely.”

“Will you take me home now?”

“Sure thing. I’ll get your chariot.”