Chapter Eight

Sammie

It didn’t take much pushing for Ben to make sure I agreed to breakfast and a day off. It did take me a while to drag myself out of my warm bed imbued with his musky, soap-and-sugar scent. I knew I could roll in that bed all day long and never tire of knowing he’d been there with me, providing I also knew he would return that night.

“Come on, honey. If you want to eat with me, then you’d better move that sexy ass.” Wide, roughened hands wrapped around my wrists, gently towing me to the edge of the bed.

I didn’t bother resisting. I arched back, taking in the all-male show in front of me. There was no denying that Ben was a fine male specimen. The thought that he’d chosen to spend the night with me—and the morning, my dizzy aunt the morning—completely blew my mind.

“Are you going to pull me off the bed?” I didn’t like the idea of falling headfirst onto the floor, even if it was only a foot, but I didn’t think he’d actually do it.

“No.” Ben’s playful grin was back in its regular place.

I sighed, relaxing my arms over my head. Mistake.

His hands descended on my unprotected ribs, finding every ticklish, sensitive spot in an instant. Squeaking and squirming, I curled into a ball, but he was having none of it.

“Ben—” I squawked, twisting away from those relentless fingers.

“Come on.” He dipped a shoulder into my stomach, hoisting me over it in a fireman’s carry, butt naked. “Let’s get one of us fed.”

I squawked again, my gaze flicking to the open windows, but after last night, my dignity was likely in tatters—at least as far as my neighbors were concerned.

My feet found the carpet without any further shenanigans. I pouted, leaning into his chest while my hands went on a little tour of their own. “Is that it?”

“Is that it?” he echoed, catching my hands. Ben kissed my palm, then my wrist. Goose bumps erupted all over me. “Honey, you are a horny little thing.” His words set the goose bumps alight with a fresh shiver, while his gaze held nothing but appreciation.

Placated, I began the search for clothing.

In record time, Ben had me out of the house, his hand wrapped firmly around mine as we trotted along the promenade in the direction of his shop.

My own was closed for the day. Monday was a notoriously slow day, and when I was a teen, Dad had made a habit of closing. After he went into the nursing home, I’d made a point of trying to follow tradition, but it hadn’t taken. While my head told me it was a poor business practice, some other, more logical part argued that it was good to have a mental health day once a week, even if I couldn’t stick to it.

Now that I had Kari, even for a short time, it gave me the ability to separate dreams and work—if only I could take my own advice.

But living in a small town had its benefits—and its downsides.

“Aren’t you worried about gossip?” The words were out of my mouth before I could rein them back in. I tried to pull my hand from Ben’s, but he only held on tighter, tugging me closer to his side.

“It’s a civic duty, giving the town a talking point,” Ben joked, squeezing my fingers between his. “But honestly, if you’re worried…” he let the words hang in the short space between us.

I shook my head. “No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. With me. Here with you.”

Thank you, brain, for departing the station.

Ben laughed, releasing my hand. Before I had the chance to be disappointed, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him as we walked.

The warmth of him surrounded me, a little bubble of peace and happiness in my favorite place in the world.

Sunlight brightened the path before us as if a cloud had shifted across it, but when I looked up, the azure sky was as blemish-free as always. Not only was he an astute businessman, Ben was easy to talk to. I thought back to our dinner—had that really been last night?—when we had exchanged dreams, and discussed the risks worth taking to pursue them. It seemed a romantic notion, but he was right. I was living someone else’s dream. And pursuing my own didn’t mean I had to close the shop. Dad’s legacy would continue, alongside my own.

Smiling, I leaned up to press my lips to the light shadow that covered Ben’s usually clean-shaven face. The chatter of the main street reached me, traffic interrupting my brief reprieve from the world. Peace. Another thing that came easy with Ben when I was constantly chasing it on my own.

Ben’s steps slowed, his arm around my shoulder rigid and tight to the point of painful.

I shifted, studying his face but it was oddly blank. Were his words pure bravado, and now that we were in the town proper, where even tourists recognized him as one of the local business owners, he had changed his mind.

Reaching up, I touched his cheek, but he could have been a statue on the promenade for all the notice he took. I dropped my hand with a sigh, wriggling to escape his death grip, but it proved impossible.

“Ben. It’s okay. I understand if you’ve changed your mind.” I didn’t understand at all, and my words were a total lie, but anything was easier than this forced silence. “Ben? Please.” I choked out the last word, voices and mutters intruded on my moment of peace. Were we causing such a scene?

“Look.” The single word was coated in cold rage, and my skin turned to ice along with it.

But when I looked up at him, Ben was staring over my head, across the street.

I swallowed. Following his gaze past the palm trees I walked under to cross the main road to get to his shop each week, I saw his gorgeous bow shop front; my icy skin turned numb.

The red-and-white glass pillars that had framed the curved glass lay shattered on the pavement in front of the door. Every single pane of glass was cracked or shattered to some degree.

Through the shadow of the bowed door that looked like someone had ram-raided the place, the counter of Ben’s shop was in total disarray. Utensils and plates were strewn across the floor, chairs and tables upended.

“Oh, Ben. Your shop.” Tears sprang to my eyes at the blatant destruction of his dream. “Who would do this?” The words slipped out as a whisper.

Ben pulled me in closer, turning one shoulder as if to protect me from the destruction of his dream. A rumble began in his chest, and for a long moment, I thought he might roar the injustice at the sky. A muscle ticked in his cheek, his jawline tight as the rumble died, only to be replaced by a hollow laugh.

“I have a good fucking idea.”