Better with Ben (How to Tame a Heartbreaker Book 3) (9 page)

"I'm on the road headed back to my apartment. Taylor, what's going on? Whatcha need?"

"I was just wondering if you could stop by here for a second."

To her relief, he didn't ask her why. He must have sensed the urgency in her voice.

"Of course," he said. "I'm on my way. I think I can find it, but remind me the name of the road."

"Vineridge."

"That's right. I'll be there as soon as I can. It'll probably take me about fifteen minutes."

"Thank you."

He was silent for a few seconds. "Is everything okay?" he finally asked. "Are you safe?"

"Yeah, totally," she said.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Chapter 9

Taylor watched the screen of her phone go blank. What in the world came over her? Did she really just call Ben and ask him to drive to her house? What was she supposed to say when he got there, "Hi, uh, I was scared and wanted you to come hug me?"

She stashed her phone in her back pocket and went to the bathroom to check her reflection. Thank God she made the effort. She was desperately disheveled from the whole tile-laying episode, and needed the assistance of a hairbrush, powder brush, and while she was at it, a toothbrush just for good measure.

Taylor was in the middle of brushing her teeth when the electricity blinked a few times before going out completely. There was no natural light coming into the bathroom, so Taylor suddenly found herself in pitch-black darkness.

"Are you kidding me?" she said out loud with a mouth full of toothpaste. She spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth out. It was easy to feel sink handles, since she was already hugging the sink, but turning around to get out of the door was a whole other challenge.

Panic threatened to take hold of her as she slowly made her way out of the bathroom and into the hallway. It was a challenge to get a grip on her imagination. All she could see was the dead girl. She knew it was crazy, but she just kept imagining that she was about to trip over her in the darkness.

"It's just a storm," she said. "The electricity is off, that's all. You're fine. Find a candle."

Taylor didn't find a candle. She found the back door before she got to the kitchen, and the prospect of being outside was much better than trying to feel her way to the kitchen or her bedroom in the dark. Her eyes were starting to adjust, but still—she didn't want to be in the dark house alone, candle or no candle.

There was an oversized metal awning that extended off of the backdoor and onto the driveway. It was large enough for an outdoor table and chairs to fit underneath. The furniture was getting wet because it was positioned close to the edge of the awning and the wind carried rain underneath.

Taylor decided to stand close to the door so she wouldn’t get rained on. She dug her phone out of her back pocket and looked at the screen. She found a sense of comfort at the light it provided and laughed at herself for not having the presence of mind to use it when she was trying to make her way out of the house. She considered turning on the flashlight app, which was really pretty bright, and going back into the house, but she just didn't feel like being in there alone.

The rain seemed extraordinarily noisy.

The most predominant sound was that of raindrops hitting the metal roof she was standing under, but there were all sorts of gushing and rushing sounds happening all around her. The cold air and mist from the heavy rain made her feel as though she was trapped under the awning. She stood there, staring down at her phone distractedly while waiting desperately for headlights to pull into her driveway.

The next seven minutes were the longest of her life. She stood there waiting for Ben to pull-up, her feet feeling like they were cemented to the ground. About four minutes through, she started to shiver, and by the time she saw his headlights she was freezing right down to her bones. The headlights hit her briefly and she squinted and shielded her eyes.

In no time at all, the truck's ignition died and she saw the driver's door open. Ben got out of the SUV like a knight stepping from his horse, and she felt instant security once she saw him. He ran through the rain, only slowing down once he was under the shelter of the awning.

"Are you locked out?" he asked. The question took her by surprise even though it was a logical assumption.

"Huh? Oh, no. I'm just waiting out here."

He stood a couple feet from her, looking as if he was trying to figure out what she was doing, or why she called him, or both.

"The electricity just went out," Taylor said. She smiled triumphantly as if that little fact should explain all of this odd behavior.

"Do you have candles?" he asked, taking his phone out of his pocket and pushing the appropriate buttons to use it as a flashlight. He opened his arm, gesturing that they should probably go inside.

Taylor went in ahead of him, doing the same thing with her phone so they could each have a light. She told him she'd be right back and went into her bedroom where she retrieved a three-wick candle and a lighter.

Ben was using the light from his phone to look around the kitchen. "Is that the only one you have?" he asked when he noticed her lighting the candle.

"I think we have a few little ones in that cabinet above the microwave," she said, "and Gina may have one or two in her room."

Ben opened the cabinet above the microwave and brought down a six-pack of small votive candles, each in their own little glass container. "We can hang out for a few minutes and see if the lights come back on, or we can just go to my apartment," he said.

"I'm okay waiting for a few minutes if you don't mind," she said. She knew Molly and Nick were hanging out at his place. She loved them and everything, but wasn't really in the mood to socialize.

"I don't mind at all," he said.

Taylor was situated on the couch when Ben came into the living room to give her the candles he got from the kitchen. She lit them all and spread them out on the coffee table in an effort to disperse some light. It worked. The room was still dimly lit, but the candles provided enough light for Ben to turn off his phone.

He took a seat on the other end of the couch leaving plenty of space between them; then he looked at her with a gentle smile. She knew he must be wondering why she called him there, and she really couldn't think of anything better than telling the truth.

"I feel like I should explain that I'm normally the type of person who can deal with whatever life throws my way. I'm not going to go into everything I've been through, but let's just say I've been through some shit and have always been able to handle it. I thought I was a tough girl." She paused for a second and Ben regarded her with a curious, sweet expression. "It's just that—I think seeing that girl's body screwed me up or something. I saw it, and then I had this panic attack where I felt like I was dying." She paused again, but this time she didn't look at him—instead she stared straight ahead at the candles as they flickered. She sighed. "Anyway, I know it's just stuff I have to work through, but I really don't want to get on medication. For some reason I had it stuck in my head that if I called you to come over here and give me a hug, it might like
cure me or something
." Taylor let out a little self-deprecating laugh and glanced at him. She shrugged. "I know it must seem really stupid, but I just got really scared for a second when I was here alone, and—"

In one fluid motion, Ben moved across the couch until his leg was touching hers. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her. She let out a long, grateful sigh as she relaxed into his embrace.

It was working already—like freaking magic. She wasn't worried about the girl or her heart or anything. She stayed there for a full minute, enjoying the feel and smell of him, before she pulled back slightly to look at his face. The candlelight flickered making shadows on his face. He was handsome in normal lighting but candlelight only intensified his attractiveness.

"I know you are having to see me at my worst right now, and for that I'm sorry. I hope you can understand that I'm generally a stable person, I'm just having trouble getting over seeing that dead girl I think. I just keep thinking how messed up it is that
I'm
the one who finds a dead body. I can't stop thinking about her. I can't seem to get over the fact that there are people in the world who can kill another human being. I can't even
comprehend
what kind of person could take another person's life. I guess that's the part that messes with me the most. The whole thing's just such a bummer," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, who finds a dead body, anyway?"

"I've seen hundreds of dead bodies," he said. His expression had been unreadable the entire time she was talking, so his comment took her a little off guard.

She narrowed her eyebrows at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"What, like in the Army?"

"Yes."

She was sitting in an awkward position trying to look up at him, so she settled in next to him on the couch and continued speaking even though she was no longer looking at him.

"Did
you
ever kill anybody?"

There was a short silence.

"Yes," he said.

"A lot of people?"

"Yes."

Another silence.

"But I was just doing my job—a job I think makes the world a better place."

"Do you
still
kill people?"

Silence again—this time a longer one.

"Dying's a part of living, Taylor. That's why I'm telling you all this. So you get the idea that you're not the only one who's exposed to it. Everybody in the world knows someone who's died. Everyone's gonna die."

"Oh, don't talk like that."

He rubbed her arm. "I'm not trying to be morbid. I'm just trying to help you get through your shit. You're not the only one who's ever seen some fucked up shit. More than once I've held someone as the life drained from their body. A few of those times, I was the one who drained it."

Taylor put a hand to her face. "Oh my God Ben, are you serious right now?"

"Yes, I'm serious, Taylor. That was my job. I was
only
called in when deadly force was necessary. If I got called to go to work, someone was dying."

She wondered how many people he shared that information with. Her hunch was that it was not a lot. Part of her knew she should feel honored that he would be willing to be so open with her, but the other part was so shocked by his admissions that she didn't know what to feel.

"And you're telling me this because—"

"Because you're not the only one who's seen things they want to forget. Most people
in the world
have seen things that haunt them. You're not alone."

"I probably seem like a big baby," she said.

"I didn't say that. I just said you're not alone."

They were quiet for a second.

"And the panic attacks will go away," he said. "It might take a little while, but some day you'll forget what they feel like."

Taylor laughed. "That would be awesome," she said. It was obvious by how she said it that she had a hard time believing it were true.

"It's true, they'll go away and you won't even remember what they felt like." She took that promise to heart. He made her feel better. Even though his occupational confession threw her for a loop, she felt better for knowing she wasn't alone in the fucked-up-shit department.

She took great comfort being in Ben's arms. She couldn't imagine herself being safer anywhere else than in this warrior's arms. "You're still letting me hold you after I told you all that," he said, after a long silence. "You must be pretty desperate."

She was
so very desperate
—desperate for more of him. She wanted to snuggle up to him on the couch and never get up.

"I asked Molly earlier in the week and she said she thought you'd gone back to work," he said.

"I did. For the most part, I'm back into my normal routine. I'm able to hold it together while I'm at work and stuff. I just had a little episode earlier and felt like I wanted to call you. I'm glad I did. Believe it or not, it's nice to hear that you've seen even worse things than I have."

She felt a few tiny shakes of his chest as he laughed. "Believe me," he said, "I've seen things that make one girl's body look like Disney channel."

Taylor put her hand over her ear. "I don't even want to know," she said.

"Don't worry, I don't think I care to repeat it."

"How do you keep all that bottled up inside?" She reached out and ran a hand across his chest. She meant it as a gesture to go along with her comment, but she couldn't help but notice how the hard ridges of muscle beneath his shirt felt to her fingertips. She let her hand linger there for longer than she probably should have, to the point where she wasn't sure how to go about removing it. She felt a tingle in her groin once she became aware of how much she loved the feel of his chest. Taylor had to force herself to take her hand off of him, because if she didn't, it would definitely seem like she was putting the moves on him.

Was she? No, she couldn't—shouldn't. It wasn't the right time for that kind of thing when the whole premise of him being called over there was that she was a nervous wreck.

"I don't know," he answered. She'd been so lost in thought that she took a second to remember what she'd asked. It was how he kept it all bottled up.

"Do you ever talk about it?"

"No."

"Do you ever
want
to?"

"No. I don't need to. I wouldn't be good at what I do if I needed to share my feelings about it."

Again, Taylor felt like a big baby.

He must have picked up on that fact because he added, "But I'm glad
you're
the type of person who was affected by what you saw. I like that about you. I think and hope most people in the world would be pretty messed up from seeing that."