3
Ben
Even though Ben usually played the part of a warm fuzzy bear, the cabin temperature had him scooting as close to Beth as possible under the red and black plaid comforter.
“Hold me.”
She snorted and flinched away from his skin. Justin, the too-much-muscle-not-enough-fat owner of the house, had loaned him some of his pajamas, but they hardly covered his round gut. He could hear her sharp intake of breath when he tried to press it back against her. “Ben, you’re colder than I am.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m trying to sleep.”
“Me too.”
“It’s one in the morning.” She let out a sigh, and he heard her arm flop against the sheets at her side. “If it’s not you keeping me up, it’s my brain.”
His grin widened, and he propped up on his elbow, leaning over to peer at her through the darkness. “I have a solution to both of our problems.”
She immediately picked up on his connotation. “No.”
“Why not?” He ran a tantalizing finger up her side—her loaned, flannel pajamas were also too small, but in length, not width. “I’ve heard that sex can not only warm you right up, but triggers a chemical in the brain that helps you sleep.”
Two wrinkles appeared above her nose. “Don’t try to lure me in with your logic.”
“You’ll be out like a light in no time.”
She fell silent for a second, and Ben couldn’t believe his tactic was actually working. He was only teasing, but if she was going for it…
“You’re really considering it,” he said through a shocked laugh. Beth instantly stiffened and rolled away from him.
“I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, you were.”
He waited, wondering if she’d continue to joke around or choose to ignore him. He had nothing to lose, really.
After a good half a minute of silence, he blew out a breath and tried to smile through the cold rush that ran under his skin. “Okay, deny it,” he teased. “But for a second, no matter how short that second was, you thought about it.”
“We’re in a stranger’s house,” she said, flipping around just to give him a look to shut down the entire conversation. “It’s weird.”
He gulped, his smile disappearing completely into the darkness around them. He didn’t mean to feel disappointment every time his advancements were shot down, but it certainly happened anyway—even when he never expected they’d be met with reciprocated enthusiasm.
He sucked in, suddenly very consciously aware of his body fat. Maybe it wasn’t Beth who’d changed, but him, and she was finally noticing just how out of shape he’d gotten.
There was a sudden urge to apologize surging through his chest. No, he would never push her into making love if that’s not what she was up for, but perhaps the teasing was hitting a sore spot, one that neither of them were ready to joke about.
He fell back down to his pillow, wondering how in the world she could flip flop from Happy Beth to Sad Beth all in the course of two seconds. Where did the woman I fell for go? he thought, then pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop himself from thinking it again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. When she didn’t answer, he rolled to his side so they were back to back and waited for sleep to overtake him.
***
“Hope Falls,” Ben read aloud as he passed the sign just outside the town Beth and him had stumbled upon the night before. The tow truck bounced over loose gravel as the driver, Lance—clearly a morning person—took them around a bend toward what Ben assumed was the only auto repair place within a four-hundred-mile radius.
“Hidden gem,” Lance said, grinning far too widely for six in the morning. “But rumor has it, the place is cursed.”
Intrigued, Ben sat up in his seat. He’d always been one for a little ghostly adventure. “Yeah?”
Lance nodded, taking another turn onto what looked like the hub of the place—Main Street. “That place right there”—he gestured to a sign directing travelers to a B&B—”not a single soul goes in without coming out ready to get married.”
Ben let out a boisterous laugh at the pun, but the gears in his head started to click. He mindlessly ran a palm over the square-box lump in his pocket. Maybe the repairs would take a couple of days—they very well could if he had to order parts—and he could convince Beth to grab a room at the place.
Anything to hedge his bets, yeah?
He leaned forward in his seat, scanning the street for a gym as well. A few miles down the road appeared a bowling alley, movie theater, ice cream place… Mmm, wonder if they have Moose Tracks.
The tow truck bounced again as Lance hit a nasty pothole, and Ben swiveled around to make sure his broken down car was still hooked up to the tow cable.
“They gotta get that fixed,” Lance muttered under his breath. He turned off of Main Street—right at a gym, Ben noted—and a few moments later, he had them backing up into a garage at Pine Tree Auto.
Ben helped the small town mechanic get the car on the lift, knowing the problem wasn’t just under the hood. He was ninety-nine percent sure it was the transmission, which is why he hadn’t voiced it to Beth. The sucker wasn’t exactly the cheapest or quickest fix.
“Transmission,” Lance said after a minute, and Ben nodded, letting out a long whistle.
“Figured. Wanna give it to me straight on cost?”
Lance grabbed a rag and wiped his hands before tossing it over his shoulder. “Well, good news is I’m pretty sure I’ve got all the parts here. Bad news is it’ll still take a good chunk of my time to get her back on her feet.”
“How much?”
Ben was used to the mechanic spiel; he gave his own version of it about twenty times a day. He usually started with the bad news, though.
Lance set his hands on his hips, the coveralls bunching since they were way oversized, and he mumbled out a number that was right around what Ben had expected… unfortunately.
“Damn it.”
“Yeah… sorry. Labor, parts…”
“I get it.” Ben shook his head with a hollow laugh up at the hunk of junk he’d been putting back together for over a decade now. “I work at a garage myself. Price is fair.”
Lance straightened his stance. “Really? How long you been in it?”
“Since I could drive.” Ben chuckled, remembering his scrawny sixteen-year-old body whipping in and out from under his first car—this one—while his big-bellied dad sent a barrage of instructions and handed him the correct tools.
Lance rested against a shelf, an amused grin on his lips. “Explains the lack of surprise when I diagnosed. You probably knew it yesterday when the thing broke down.”
“Had an inkling.” He patted the headlight before pushing off his spot. “I may have been praying for a less pricey miracle to happen all night long.”
“I don’t blame ya.” Lance led him into the tiny shop door, a display of tires collecting dust to his right, a long red desk hosting a single computer to his left. Lance ducked behind the desk, clicking on a few things before asking, “So… final number with taxes.” He swiveled the screen around and the bottom number was in a fitting shade of bright red.
Ben ran a hand over his chin, jolting somewhat from the bristles that’d grown in overnight. He was an everyday shaver, but in all the excitement, it’d slipped his mind this morning.
“Whelp,” he joked. “There goes this trip.”
He said it with a light air, hoping it wouldn’t cause any discomfort for the mechanic. He’d been on many receiving ends of tears, hopeless sighs, frustration, and anger. Repairs seemed to come at the worst of times for everyone, and he usually gave them the bottommost number he could. Mechanic wasn’t the most lucrative career choice for a reason.
“Where you headed?” Lance asked, not seeming uncomfortable at all, thank heavens.
“Disney was the plan.”
“You got kids?”
Ben laughed, digging his wallet from his back pocket. “Just a really big one.” He slid his ID over, knowing Lance would need it next. “She’s a Disney fanatic.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
Would’ve been. Ben tried to force a grin, but his silence must’ve spoken loud enough to make Lance frown as he entered in his information. How in the world was he going to tell Beth? Once the car was up and running, they’d just have to turn right back around to Idaho. No Splash Mountain picture, no turkey leg, no kiss in front of fireworks… no public proposal.
He sniffed, blinking as he looked out the front doors just as the sun appeared over the mountains. They’d just have to make the most of their time in this small town. Maybe he’d take Beth to that B&B he spotted, take her bowling, to a movie, hit the ice cream place…
Make lemonade.
A small clap snapped him out of his reverie as Lance placed his license down on the counter in front of him. There was a pensive pull to his expression.
“Mind if I run something past you?” he asked.
“Sure,” Ben said cautiously. He slid his ID back into his wallet.
“You fix a transmission before?”
“About every other week.” He chuckled; it was an exaggeration, but with how many he’d done, it felt pretty accurate.
“Well… I got another job in front of yours, and obviously this place is a one-man show at the moment. How do you feel about only paying for the parts and a flat facility usage fee? Then you can do the labor yourself.”
Surprise and gratitude swooped through his gut. “You serious?”
Lance nodded. “I could use the help, to be honest.”
“What’s the facility fee?”
Lance clicked and tapped into the computer, then swung it back around to face him. A wave of sweet relief fell over him as he looked at the new bottom line. He thrust his hand out and shook Lance’s hard, nearly hugging the guy across the counter.
“You got yourself a deal.”