Santa's Pet (21 page)

~ Brittney ~

Lacy unloads a torrent of words, and I’m trying to get her to shut up so I can hear what Ben and Nash are saying. Shit. Shit. Triple shit. I hadn’t had time to warn Nash. He could be spilling everything right about now.

Elvis isn’t helping matters as “Blue Christmas” loops around the record player. To top it off, the bird and dog are competing for the loudest ruckus on a fake Christmas morn contest.

“What’s really going on?” Lacy gets in my face. “Why are you hiding here? You’re taking it on the chin with the security breach. It’s all over the news that you resigned and ran away. Some say you fled the country because you’re guilty. You could be looking at jail time.”

Jail time, smail time. If Nash tells Ben he got to me first, I’ll be looking forward to a little R&R in prison—an all women’s prison sounds good to me right now.

“Can you keep it down?” I press down with my hand in the air. I can’t take my eyes off Ben and Nash, and I’m straining my ears to pick up their angry words.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Lacy takes a strand of my hair and pulls. “Oh, wait, he gave you earrings?”

Even though everyone’s yelling and Nash could be telling Ben everything, I blush and nod. “They belonged to his mother.”

Instead of being happy, Lacy’s mouth shoots open. “Isn’t he throwing you under the bus with the lewd misconduct charge?”

“No, that was a misunderstanding. Ben’s really nice.” I can’t help the corners of my lips turning up.

“Oh, no!” Lacy’s eyebrows arch higher than that of a clown mask. “You slept with him?”

“No, we’re taking it slow.” I finger the earring. “He thinks I might be the ‘One.’”

“The one what?” Lacy purses her lips, scrutinizing me. “You thought Nash was the ‘One’ when you slept with him.”

“Sshhhh …” I dart a quick glance at Ben and Nash, but fortunately, they’d gone outside. “I was young and stupid.”

“And you’re smarter now? Come on, Britt. You’re barely out of diapers when it comes to dating and mating.”

“I’ve done it with two different men.” I lift my chin and put my hands on my hips, jutting out my ample bosom.

Lacy rolls her eyes. “You thought that teaching assistant was really into you, didn’t you? And the jerk didn’t even give you an ‘A.’”

“I didn’t think anything. You’re making all this up.” A squirrely feeling twists my stomach. How would Lacy know about the two most horrible disasters in my short and ignorable life? “I would have gotten an ‘A’ if he hadn’t taken up all my study time.”

“Britt, you don’t have to lie to me. I read your journal.” She holds up a hand. “Don’t get all huffy. Mom and Dad were really worried about you dropping out of college.”

“But … but I started ScrapCloud. I did good. I made something of myself.” My lower lip trembles so hard, I don’t even have the gumption to be upset she read my journal.

“You
are
good. And we’re proud of you, but for a while back there, we thought you were suicidal.”

“Over a stupid teaching assistant?” I muster up a mite of indignation. “I’m so over it, it’s ancient history.”

“But not Nash.” Lacy’s laser focus drills through me. “You know how bad he felt when he found out you ditched him? He texted me to get the keys, and I had no clue where you were or even who you were with. He was frantic with worry, and from where I’m standing, it sure felt like he’s thinking of you as more than just a friend.”

“He’s been with that singer, what’s-her-name all summer.”

“They broke up. He wants you back.” Lacy crosses her arms. “What are you going to do now?”

My insides churn like ice floes off the Titanic. “It can’t be. He only loves me like a sister.”

“Ewww!” Lacy stops her ears. “Don’t say any more. I can guarantee you he wants you more than, ewww, a sister. Don’t forget, I read your journal.”

Snoop.
“It was nothing. Just an experiment.”

She shakes her head, and for the first time since she barged into my Yuletide Zone dream, she looks sympathetic. “Stop lying to yourself. You’re not an angel, and you don’t have to be perfect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I feign misunderstanding, because how can I admit to not being the saint I’m supposed to be? After all, wasn’t that the reason Mom and Dad adopted me? I was a better baby. I slept through the night. I ate my food. I toilet trained early. I got good grades. I graduated high school a virgin. And I’m so fucked up right now, it isn’t funny.

“It means I love you whether you’re good or bad. You don’t have to be perfect, okay?” She puts her arms around me and draws me into a hug, bumping me against her pregnant belly. “You’re allowed to make mistakes, and you can’t please everyone.”

Again, I look over at the door. Ben’s stepping in, his fists clenched, and it doesn’t look good. Before the day’s over, both Powers brothers are going to hate me, and for good reason.

“Please don’t say anything,” I hiss at my sister. “Let me fix this.”

“Sure, my lips are zipped. I have to text Mom and Dad to let them know we found you.” She picks up her phone and marches past Ben to the front door without greeting him.

He stalks toward me, his face hard and lips tight. I can’t tell if Nash has said anything or not. The dog and the bird have simmered down, and the record player needle is skipping back and forth on the circle around the label.

Ben turns the dial and stops the player. Gently, he lifts the arm with the needle and places it back on the bracket, and slips each record into its sleeve.

I swallow a lump and rush to the sink to clean up. It’s over. Our fantasy Christmas romance is done. Nash spilled the beans, and Ben’s too good of a man to throw it in my face. He’s tidying up, and after we leave, he’ll never want to see me again.

The basset hound noses around my legs, licking crumbs from the floor. I bend down and give him a cuddle. His sad, doleful eyes mirror the despair sinking my gut. What I feel for Ben is so much deeper than the crush I had on Nash. It’s true I’d wanted him to care for me and thought sleeping with him would make him see me as a real woman. But the next morning, he hadn’t even waited for me to wake up before catching his plane.

Treat licks my fingers as I rub his saggy furry skin. He’s exactly the right type of dog for a broken heart.

Ben’s footsteps clamber to the kitchen, and Treat lifts his large eyes so that the whites are showing. His nose twitches, but he doesn’t move toward him. Even the dog knows I’m doomed.

“I went to the truck and got your phone,” Ben says, his long legs and boots stopping beside me. My phone dangles in his large hand.

“Thanks.” I take it and turn it upside down. It would be so easy to dive into my messages and go back to the electronic jungle with my problems and messes. “Ben, can we go somewhere private and talk?”

“I thought all we’ve been doing is talking. What’s changed?” He says this in the same tone my father uses when he’s caught me doing something wrong and wants me to fess up.

I gird myself. My every nerve is twitchy, and my stomach floods with a hive of bees, but I have to do this. I have to be honest with him and myself. He deserves as much.

“Let’s go up to the loft in case my sister comes back.” I reach up and grab his hand to pull myself up.

To my surprise, he doesn’t let go. Even though everything’s coming to an end, his grip still makes me weak.

Wordlessly, he tugs me to the backside of the kitchen and opens the broom closet. A built-in wooden ladder stands at the back. He pulls a chain on a naked light bulb and shuts the closet door.

He’s expecting me to scale the ladder first, because he doesn’t move. I hate that he’s going to get a view of my behind as I go up in front of him, but he’s probably so disgusted with me, he’ll swallow down bile.

I pull myself into the loft, or attic, and creep to the dormer windows. Lacy and Nash are having a heated discussion—most likely about me. I know my sister’s on my side, because no matter what, she loves me, even if she’s pissed that I’m so perfect, or seemed perfect growing up.

“Don’t worry about them.” Ben turns me from the window and draws the curtain. “Come, sit next to me.”

He gestures to a mattress lying on the floor surrounded by boxes and old storage chests. The sheets are rumpled and the blanket is thrown back, like he’d dashed out of bed this morning to make my perfect “Christmas” breakfast.

Awkwardly, I lower myself to the mattress, but stay on the side away from him. He’s not inviting anyway, his face in the shadow away from the window.

“What did you want to talk about?” He finally breaks the silence.

I hug my legs to my chest and rest my chin on my knees. Was this how men felt when faced with the gallows? Doomed, but at peace, sort of like, let’s get it over with. No longer fighting it.

“Nash was one of those men.”

“And?” He’s not helping me. I’m sure he already knows, and he’s making me spit it out.

“I slept with him about a year ago.”

Ben rubs his face and his shoulders sag. I still can’t see his expression because he keeps it hidden in the shadow.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” I venture when the silence drags too long.

“What’s there to say?”

“It was just that one—”

“Stop.” He holds out a hand. “Nothing you say will change what happened.”

“But I want you to know the truth. I lied to you when I said it was nothing. Also the other guy. I might have been nothing to him, but he was everything to me. After I dropped out of college, I turned into a hermit. I lived with Lacy, but I didn’t go out or do anything. I spent my time with my bunny rabbit and writing code. The only person I spoke to outside of my family was Nash. He’d write me songs, send email, text, and let me know how he was making it in the music business. He was my only friend, and he brought me out of my shell.” A tear slips from my eye, and I hurriedly wipe it.

Ben doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t even know if he heard. But now that I started, I can’t stop. I’ve never even admitted to myself how hurt I was over either guy.

“I told myself it was only a hookup. That’s what we Millennials do. We text people and hook up. No fuss, no mess. Just a little healthy sex. So Nash was coming to the Cow Palace and he gave me a backstage pass. He dedicated a song to me, and I was one of many groupies he invited back to his trailer. He partied all night after the concert with them, and then he came to my apartment and said he was secretly in love with me.”

Thud. Ben’s fist slammed on the mattress. “And you believed him?”

“I’m so stupid.” Tears stream down my face. “I wanted someone to choose me for a change. To think I’m the most special girl in the world.”

“He said what you wanted to hear and you slept with him.”

“I thought I was making love,” I wail, no longer hiding my agony. “Then he left before I even woke up. He had a plane to catch. He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”

“That’s Nash. Love ’em and leave ’em Nash.” Ben’s voice is flat and devoid of emotion. I bet right now, he’s wishing he never met me. Never gave me his mother’s angel earrings. Never told me his secret. “What did you expect?”

His question catches me by surprise. What does any stupid girl expect? Hearts? Flowers? Forever?

“We never spoke of it again. Well, once, but we decided it was nothing and agreed to pretend it never happened.” I cringe and cover my face, rocking myself with my arms around my legs. The big lie is right in front of me. I’m a fool, and I believe what a man says if it’s what I want to hear.

Ben’s weight shifts, and he groans loudly, pulling me from the edge to the center of the mattress. “What are we going to do about you?”

I have no idea. I’m a total and complete loser. Lacy’s right. I’m not out of diapers, and I shouldn’t be playing in the big leagues. Let me go to a women’s jail where there won’t be any temptations. We can sit around and bitch and bemoan the horrible men in our lives. I can teach them math and computer skills. The type of jail they send computer crooks to isn’t so bad, it might even be a nice getaway where I’ll finally make friends.

He untangles my arms from my legs and lifts my chin to face him. I avert my eyes, closing them, and tremble, wondering why he’s staring at me. Does he think I haven’t told him the entire truth? Or can he see how idiotic I am? Or worse, that I’m a slut?

His breath washes my face, and he kisses the tear rolling down my cheek. First my left, then my right. His fingers stroke my temple and even in my dark despair, I can’t help but lean my face toward his hand.

That’s all it takes for him to drag me onto the mattress. He folds me into his giant arms and buries his face in my neck, planting tiny butterfly kisses along the way.

I’ve no clue what he’s doing, but it feels so good and warm, like he’s okay with everything I told him, and he still wants me. It’s not only his lips that are busy, but his hands caress the small of my back, around my hip and up and down my spine.

I relax into his embrace as he kisses my earlobe and nuzzles the angel earrings. His breath is hot against my ear and I’m ready to faint from relief. Here I thought he was going to throw me out, turn his back on me, and tell me to leave, but instead, he’s treating me with the most exquisite care, comforting me and letting me know he’s still the one. Still cherishes me. Still wants and desires me. Maybe even loves me—for real.

His masculine, clean, and musky scent hovers around me, invigorating me with a panting need. Every nerve ending comes alive, filling my skin with shimmers of expectation as he drags his hands down my sides. My legs open to him, and he presses his hard length against my crotch, right where I’m throbbing for him.

One large hand creeps under my shirt and palms my breast, massaging and rolling it gently, and making me feel cozy and loved. I arch toward him, opening myself to everything Ben. His touch deepens, but not rough, as he plays with my erect nipple. I’m too shy to unbutton my shirt, so I wrap one leg over his hip and move my hands under his shirt.

He’s hot, hard, with a damp sheen of sweat and so sexy I almost cream myself. My breathing roughens, and I latch onto his lips when he brings them close.