The Inn at Laurel Creek (8 page)

Lou's smile grew ever bigger, if that was at all possible, and she chuckled. "Yup, it's him all right. Our little Ben is a famous singer, just
like his momma always said he would be."

My friends moaned when they heard him on the radio. I did too,
especially when I'd hear his hit from last year, "The Love in My Heart"—a song about losing his mother, and how his heart was filled with the love she'd given him when she was alive. I teared up just
thinking of the song, especially knowing what I knew from my time with him.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead I made a grunting sound or two, and just stared wide-eyed at the CD case while Lou laughed some more. And then it hit me. "Now every time it rains I feel like she's showering me with kisses. That's
why that was familiar to me. It's the song."

"That's the song he wrote about his mother," she said.

"I know that song. It's a great song."

"When he gets back, you gotta act like I didn't tell you, ya hear?" she asked. "I don't want him gettin' mad at me for giving away his secret. Like I said, he's really taken with you, so he'll tell you in his own time, his own way."

"But…but why Bret Bennett? Why the different name and the different look?"

"Ben said he didn't want people knowin' about his personal life. He didn't want anyone bothering his mother when she was alive,
either.
He always intended to come out of hiding, but said he likes his
privacy, and just never has."

It was a lot to take in. "I…I…I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me that his bein' famous doesn't change the way you feel about him. Don't be actin' like those girls who just want to be famous too or want his money. Promise you'll be yourself, because
that's who Ben's fallin' in love with and I don't want him gettin' hurt again."

Falling in love with me? Lou thought Ben was falling in love with me?

"I don't think he's falling in love with me, Lou."

"Oh child, you're pretty as a speckled pup, but if you can't see how he feels then you're dumber than a stump, too. That boy's fallin', and he's fallin' hard. Why I might oughta have to dig him up
with a shovel,
he's so far gone already. I've known this boy since he was a peanut in his momma's belly. I know what I'm talkin' about. Just watch his eyes when he's lookin' at ya. They get all misty and weepy. That there's love if I ever saw it."

I dropped back into the chair, feeling almost weak in the knees, and definitely lightheaded. "Bret Bennett is falling in love with me? Holy crap."

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about here, Carly. Ben Reynolds is fallin' in love with ya, but Bret Bennett? He ain't real."

I rubbed my arms. "I know that he's not real Lou, but he's part of who Ben is and that could be a game changer on so many levels." My chest tightened and I tried to pull in more air but I couldn't get enough. I tried again but still nothing. I clutched my chest and Lou
rushed over, bending down in front of me.

"Oh lawd, you're havin' one of them panic attacks, ain't you, sweetie?" She felt my head. "Stan!" she yelled. "Stan, get me a cloth soaked in cold water, you hear? And hurry up. Carly here's havin' an attack."

My breathing steadied and I gently pushed her hand from my head. "I'm okay, really. Just a little freaked out, but I'll be fine." I
grabbed my glass of iced tea and guzzled the last bit. "Would you mind getting me some water?" I asked Lou.

Just then Stan rushed in with an old brown rag, dripping with water. "This's all I could find." His breath was heavy and fast. "Is she okay?"

Lou took the rag and threw it to the ground. "Stan Brinker, you did not just soak an old grease rag and think I would use it on this sweet girl's face now did you?" She shook her head and turned to
me. "Men,
sometimes they ain't got the good sense God gave a goose. He's
lucky he's so handsome."

"I am handsome and you are lucky." He puffed out his chest. "'Course I'm lucky too."

Lou giggled and tossed the rag at her husband. "We're both pretty lucky." When she turned to me, her smiled shifted down. "Are
you okay, Carly?"

"I'm fine."

Lou got up and refilled my iced tea. "Here, drink this, you'll feel better. I ain't never seen no one panic like that from a celebrity, but I
hear it's happened."

"You told her, didn't you?" Stan said.

"Well she's gotta right to know," Lou snipped. "Can't expect her
to fall for the boy without knowin' the truth now, can we?"

Stan shook his head. "Our boy ain't gonna be happy, Lou." He patted my head. "Don't you worry, Carly. Ben's a good southern boy. He'll treat you like a lady. His celebrity ain't gonna change him.
Hasn't yet, and I don't see it happenin' either."

"Thanks, Stan," I said, not knowing what else to say. "I'm really tired now, actually. I think I'm going to head on up to my room for the night."
I stood and hugged Lou. "Don't worry, I won't tell Ben I know." I
hugged
Stan too. "And you'd better keep the secret too, or I think Lou will come at you with a shotgun." I smiled, and hugged him a little tighter. "You hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. My Lou's a good shot, too."

We all laughed.

"I'll see you for breakfast in the morning," I said, and went to my room.

***

I closed my door and flung myself on the bed. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." I stopped the chant and focused on calming myself so I didn't end up on the verge of another panic attack. "Ben is Bret Bennett. Bret Bennett is Ben. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." Guess I didn't calm myself after all. "Ben is Bret. I'm dating Bret Bennett. I can't believe it."

I sat up and practically jumped off the bed, over to the dresser, where I'd thrown my phone when I arrived. It had been off since then,
but I powered it on to text my best friend. When it turned on, a text
came
beeping in. The number wasn't familiar, so I grabbed the paper with
Ben's number on it and compared the two. It was from him.

"Can't believe I had to leave you like that," he said. "Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

My hands shook and the phone dropped to the floor. "Shit," I said, picking it up and immediately checking for damage. Relieved there
wasn't any, I held the phone tight and sat in the pink stuffed chair
staring
at his text, reading it over and over. "Can't believe I had to leave you
like that. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

Ben, otherwise known as Bret-with-the-super-sexy-voice-and-
big-time-famous-singing-career-Bennett, wrote that text.

Holy crap.

I wasn't sure what to text back, afraid I'd slip and say Bret instead of Ben or something stupid that would make me sound like a
groupie. I
typed out a text to my best friend, but hit cancel, realizing telling anyone would just cause my phone to blow up and then the news
would be all over Twitter and Facebook in seconds. Heck, it'd probably end up in
the Atlanta papers, and I couldn't do that to Ben. I imagined what
the headline would say:

Local nobody hooks up with famous local Bret Bennett

and flips the heck out about it, too.

I needed to keep my lips zipped and my fingers off the keyboard, at least to anyone other than Ben. Still unsure of how to respond, I texted back, trying for cute, but fearful it came out as
cocky instead. "You'll
survive. Many men have waited a long time for me." Yeah, it was
more cocky than cute, and I instantly regretted hitting send.

He texted back within seconds. "Well they're going to have to wait forever now, because I'm not planning on letting you get away from me."

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I needed to get a handle on the panic building in my stomach before it completely took over
and I ended up in the hospital. "You should use that in a song. It's a great line," I responded.

Okay, that wasn't too bad, I told myself, and then focused again on my breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

"What if it's not a line?" he texted. "What if that's how I'm
feeling? Like I never want to let you go."

How was I supposed to respond to that?
Awesome, dude
didn't seem quite right, and neither did,
Holy crap, you're Bret Freaking Bennett
,
I don't want you to ever let me go either!
I was so screwed. I
needed to figure out
what Ben being Bret meant for us…for me, before things got any
more hot and heavy than they already were. I didn't want to hurt Ben, but
I honestly didn't know if I could handle being involved with
someone so famous.

I imagined what it would be like going to the store with him. Did he even do his own grocery shopping? Did he have someone with him all of the time, like a bodyguard? Would I like the bodyguard? Was the bodyguard hot? Okay, that didn't matter. I
reminded myself to stay
focused. Ben being Bret was a game changer. Sure, I wanted to have a relationship with someone who was financially stable, had a decent job and wasn't a freeloader, and yes, Ben certainly met all of those
criteria,
but toss in the famous-hotter-than-hot-to-every-woman-alive stuff and I panicked all over again. Would I have to buy a baseball bat to beat women off of the side of the car, or to carry around when we
were out in public? That wouldn't be fun, and I'd probably end up in jail and in a new committed relationship with a woman named Butch. That, I couldn't handle.

I slapped myself on the forehead. "Seriously, Carly. What's your problem? You didn't even know Ben was Bret until Lou told you. And she even said he's been living this way since his career started, and
you've never once heard anything about Bret Bennett being someone else so why are you even thinking like this? It's stupid and illogical, stop it."

Self-talks weren't usually positive for me, but I had to agree with that Carly. No one seemed to know Bret Bennett was really Ben Reynolds, so why was I worried? And the Ben I'd met wasn't at all what I imagined a celebrity to be like, so maybe I had nothing to
worry about. Besides, I
was a mature, professional woman. I could totally handle anything that came my way. Totally. I didn't beat Matthew up when I met his girlfriend so soon after we'd parted ways, and for a moment or two, I'd really wanted to punch him in the groin, but I didn't, so I doubted
I'd feel the need to beat up any groupies.

I Googled Bret Bennett on my phone and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that almost all of the links were about his music and not about him personally. I did read one article about how the singer didn't
do interviews or make public appearances outside of his concerts
because he was such a private person. He'd been quoted as saying early on in his career that he wanted to keep his personal life
personal and he hoped the people that enjoyed his music would understand.

The man had class, that was obvious, and it just made me want
him more. I knew then that no matter who he was, I was going to be with him because my feelings were too strong to walk away.

I scrolled back to the top and saw the advertised link, the one I never pay attention to at the top of the search results. It was a link to his website, with bold letters saying his national tour started in three
weeks.

Three weeks? Ben was going to be touring the country in three weeks?

He texted me again. "Well?"

"Well what?" I responded.

"What if I never want to let you go?"

My heart was going to pound itself right out of my chest and
onto my lap.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to get used to having you around," I
texted back, my fingers shaking.

"That works for me," Ben wrote. "Got my meeting moved up to
first
thing in the morning so I should be back by about one o'clock. Get
some rest because we'll have to make up for lost time."

My insides quivered. "Yes, sir," I wrote back. "See you
tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," he wrote.

I read his texts over and over, trying to convince myself I wasn't dreaming and they really were from him, from Ben, the sweet, sexy guy I'd met at the Inn, who was also Bret, the famous, sultry singer that any girl would kill to get her hands on. I swiped back to my
Internet screen on the phone and clicked on images, checking out his face. The more I
looked, the more I realized the resemblance was obvious and I chided
myself for not noticing on my own. I wondered if his previous girlfriends knew? Did they figure it out themselves or did he tell
them? Lou
mentioned something about women wanting him for his celebrity, so some probably knew, but I wonder if some didn't and if they just never found out, or kept his secret? Could I keep that kind of secret?
Oh God. What if I couldn't?

Like I said, I was so screwed.

***

Hours later I woke up, still in the chair and stiff from my contorted position, but feeling like a million bucks anyway. I checked my phone and saw I had six messages—three from friends and three from Ben.

His first text, "Are you still awake?" The second, "I guess not,"
and the third, "Hope you're sleeping well."