That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (11 page)

“So, is Christmas a deal then?”

“Hell yeah, especially since Mom and Dad will be up north and I’m sure I’ll manage to get some pussy in Massachusetts as well.”

“And with that, I say thank you and goodbye.”

Before I hang up, I can hear his booming laugh.

I suppose the question of Christmas was easier to settle than I thought. Sometimes, Christmas miracles happen a few weeks in advance, I guess.

I’m still lying on the yoga pillows with the phone in my hand, contemplating and analyzing the conversation with my mom, when Ben comes in.

“I didn’t hear any shouting? Did your mom pass out?”

“No, actually she was surprisingly fine with it. They are going up to the UP to spend Christmas with my grandparents.”

“Wow, miracles do happen after all.” He cocks his eyebrow in slight bewilderment and I can’t help but grin at the similarity of our thoughts.

“Did she say anything about our last visit?”

“She was going to, but I changed the topic. I didn’t feel like talking about it, to be honest. But she mentioned something else...,” I start, but am not sure how to continue without getting his feathers ruffled again.

“What was it? Was she mean to you?” I like that he seems to be genuinely upset on my behalf, and it gives me the push to mention the rest of the conversation.

“No, she wasn’t. She mentioned your mom though.” As soon as I mention his mother, I don’t just see, but feel him tense up—even from a distance. His body goes rigid and his hands clench into fists at the side of his body. It’s like someone flicked a switch and he’s sending off vibes for me to leave it alone. I have never been one to listen to warnings though.

“She said your mom didn’t even know you’re back. Or that you have a son. I thought you went to see her before you came over to our place or called her when we got here?”

“Leave it alone, Frankie.” His tone is clipped, his voice not leaving much room for argument.

Again, I ignore the warning in his tone.

“Why wouldn’t you let your mom know you’re okay? She was worried sick about you when you left. And don’t you want to tell her about Archer?” I’m really confused by this and want to know what’s going on. But it doesn’t seem like I’ll get far.

“That is none of your business, Frankie. Don’t push me on this. If I wanted her to know, I would have told her. She’s not a part of my life anymore. So. Leave. It. The. Fuck. Alone.”

At that he turns abruptly and storms out of the room, leaving me sitting on the floor—dumbfounded, confused, and angry. It’s Archer’s grandmother after all, of course it’s my business. Or at least, the dumb woman I am, I’m planning to make it my business.

Alex peeks his head into the sunroom.

“What was that? It looked like a blurry version of Ben, grabbing his running jacket and storming out the door. Dean looked out and saw him jogging down the road toward the woods.”

“I mentioned his mother.”

“And?”

“Nothing. He yelled at me and took off. Whatever is going on between him and his mom, I think it has to do with him doing the disappearing act. Something happened—but he won’t tell me what.”

I get up off the floor and decide to go after him. He doesn’t know his way around here yet and when he gets out of the neighborhood and to the side roads and wooded area, he might get lost. Or at least that’s my excuse to go after him.

“Alex, can you watch Archer for a bit? I’ll go find his daddy before he gets lost and needs another eighteen months to find his way back.”

“Ouch.” Alex chuckles and cocks an eyebrow at me. “You can be a bit venomous, can’t you? And yeah, I’ll watch him.” As I’m about to leave the sunroom, Alex calls out to me.

“But a bit of advice. Don’t push him. You know I love you, but you can be like a freight train at times. Be gentle. Something is weighing him down. I don’t think he’s being difficult on purpose.”

I just nod my head before grabbing my coat and bending down to kiss Archer on the forehead, while he plays with Mrs. Walsh and Dean on the living room floor. Then I head outside. Thankfully, it’s not as bitterly cold as I’m used to after living in Michigan all my life, but it’s not tropical either. I sling my coat tighter around me, pull the hood over my head to shield myself from the cold wind, and head in the direction that Dean saw Ben taking off to.

After half an hour of trudging through unpaved roads, between fields and a little forest, I’m about to give up when I see his silhouette sitting on a makeshift bench made out of tree trunks that I tend to sit on and read while out and about with Archer in warmer weather. But warmer weather it’s not. My fingers and ears feel like someone is stabbing them with little needles. And considering Ben has been out here for longer and isn’t dressed half as warmly, I’m sure he is freezing.

I approach him and sit down next to him on the bench. He doesn’t look up, just stares into the vastness of the fields around us.

“You’re gonna freeze to death or catch pneumonia, Ben.” I can think of a few words to add. Asshole, jerk, idiot, crazy man. But Alex’s words are ringing in my head, keeping me from flinging them at Ben.

“Maybe you’d be better off that way.” I’m not sure I heard him right, as it was more mumbled than anything, so I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What?”

His voice is louder this time. “I said, maybe you’d be better off that way.”

That’s enough. I don’t deal with bullshit well. And I’m not the most diplomatic person on a good day—feeling like an icicle definitely doesn’t qualify for a good day.

I pull my arm back, and with all the force I can muster, I punch him on his upper arm.

He’s taken aback for a second, blinking wildly and looking at me with a shocked expression.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“What it was for? For talking such bullshit. We’d be better off? Seriously? What, you have had enough of being a dad already? If so, grab your shit and leave. If not, fucking man up and own it. Don’t say stupid shit like that. It ain’t funny. Not for me. Been there, done that.”

He has the decency to look guilty, his eyes cast to the ground.

“Believe it or not, Ben, Archer likes having you around. The guys and Viv like having you around. Mrs. Walsh is getting her panties in a twist over having you around.” I pause, which causes him to look up with a half hopeful, half worried grin.

I relent. “Yes, I like having you around too.”

“I knew it,” he smiles, nudging me lightly with his shoulder.

“Stuff it, cocky asshole. Doesn’t mean a thing. You’re just growing on me...you know, like mold on the wall.”

At that he chuckles, but becomes serious again after a moment.

“Frankie, sorry. For what I just said and for earlier. I just—I can’t deal with my mom right now and I need you to respect that. Ok?”

I know pushing him won’t get me anywhere. And I want us to get out of the cold.

“Ok—for now. And now let’s get home and warm up, before my nipples shrivel up and fall off.” I stand up and jump in place a few times to get the blood flowing. How he isn’t frozen yet is beyond me.

“Oh, I can help you warm them up.” He waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively, while making a grabbing motion with his hands in the direction of my boobs.

“Dream on, asshole.”

That makes him laugh that deep sexy laugh that kept me up so many nights as a teenager. I can’t help the feeling of longing that is taking residence in my chest, but I decide to ignore it for the moment. We more or less jog back to the house, talking a lot of non-sense and laughing. I blame it on the cold, or the sudden influx of fresh air to our brains. When the house comes into sight, he nudges my shoulder.

“Whoever gets to the house first, gets a wish?”

“What, do I look like a genie?”

“No, but I can rub you places if you want.” He smirks at me.

I bump into him, making him step off the paved road and fight for balance, before I sprint ahead like a bat out of hell and yell behind me.

“Dream on. I’ll so win. And then you’ll be my bitch.”

I’m running so fast I can actually feel my lungs burn. I suppose running after a toddler isn’t exactly the same as working out. And yoga doesn’t seem to have done much for my stamina. I feel like I’m going to collapse, but I’m not willing to give up. I have about hundred feet left to run when I can hear his footsteps behind me.

When he passes me, he doesn’t seem to be out of breath at all.

“Who’s going to be whose bitch, huh? Is that all you got, Gilbert?”

Such a cocky fucker. He overtakes me and gets to the house before me, casually leaning against the porch while I trot over there feeling like death warmed over. It’s not fair. He looks absolutely breathtaking, the way he has his arms crossed over his chest, his feet are crossed at his ankles while his body is leaning against the bars of the porch railing. His head is tilted slightly back, nearly reaching the handrail. He has a shit-eating grin on his face.

I give him a death glare and am about to walk past him up the stairs onto the porch, when he grabs my arm and yanks me toward him. He turns me so my back is now against the porch and then cages me in with each hand grabbing one of the bars on either side of my head. Suddenly, breathing becomes even more difficult.

“What about my wish? You won’t go back on your word, will you, Frankie?”

I can only shake my head. You know, like intelligent people do. Forming coherent words and phrases...pfft, so over it.

“Good,” is all he says before he lowers his head, coming closer and closer. I feel like I’m going to faint. I know I should stop this. I know it isn’t the best idea. I know it could break my heart again. Chances are it will. And if it breaks this time, if he breaks it this time, there won’t be a coming back from it. Knowing all of this, I still can’t manage to tell my heart to stop doing the little somersaults and I can’t tell those damn butterflies in my stomach to chill the fuck out. Instead, I lick my lips in anticipation. When his lips eventually connect to mine, I feel like my lungs are finally able to fill with air. It feels as if I’ve been holding my breath forever—not just the last minute, but the past eighteen months.

His lips are soft, yet demanding against mine and his tongue is insisting on getting access. I part my lips slowly, not expecting my body to betray me. When his tongue connects with mine, a quiet whimper sneaks past my lips—but not quiet enough. Ben hears it, and it seems to spur him on. He presses his body closer to mine, his tongue engaging mine in a dirty little tango. We’re lost in the moment, in the sensation of tasting each other. When the front door opens, we both startle and quickly step away from each other—like two teenagers nearly caught by their parents. He seems to be able to get his bearings quicker than I do, sidestepping me and walking up the stairs.

“I thought I heard something.” I can hear Mrs. Walsh patting him on the back. “We thought you got lost. Frankie, you coming inside? It’s freezing.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Unsurprisingly, this earns me another cocky grin and a wink from Ben, who puts his arm around Mrs. Walsh’s shoulder and accompanies her inside. I’m not much of a lip-reader but I clearly decipher the words “that was easy” when he silently mouths them.
Ugh.

Before I walk through the door, I pause for a moment, replaying the last few minutes in my head. As I do so, I can’t help but touch my fingers to my lips, remembering how good his lips felt against mine just a few moments ago. I guess the roller-coaster ride never ends.

The rest of the day is quiet in comparison. I take a nap with Archer, read a bit and do some yoga while he still sleeps, followed by some baby gymnastics with him, while Ben busies himself in Viv’s bedroom, trying to strip her walls of the yellowed, 70s-style wallpaper. I don’t see him until the evening, and I’m not sad about it. My heart still does that weird, jumpy thing whenever I think of earlier. About two hours before dinner, I decide it would be nice to visit Vince.

“I’m going to visit Vince. I’ll be back in time for dinner,” I yell through the open door of my room. Not thinking anything of it, I start dressing Archer in warm clothes. Vince will be thrilled to see us. He loves Archer. I think he regrets not having had kids and now not having grandchildren. Archer is the next best thing for him.

Talking to Archer while dressing him, I don’t hear Ben come in to my room.

“Who’s Vince?” I turn around to see him standing in the door, leaning against the door frame. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s scowling at me. It takes me a moment to catch on and when I do, it makes me a bit giddy. Like the stupid teenage girl I apparently still am.

“Why you wanna know? Are you jealous?” I ask, trying to hide my smile.

Seems like he isn’t in the mood to play games tonight, since he keeps staring at me, questioningly cocking one eyebrow.

I relent with a sigh. “He’s the guy we bought the house from. Remember, I told you about him. I visit him with Archer usually once a week in the old people’s home. Wanna come with us?”

“Yeah, why not. Give me a minute,” he says before walking down the hall to his own room.

I finish dressing Archer. “You’ve been drooling like crazy the past few days, little man. What’s up with that? Are you teething?”

Unfortunately he doesn’t answer, but just goes on drooling like someone turned on a garden sprinkler. I might be in for some sleepless nights soon.

***

When we get to the old people’s home, Archer is all giddy and excited. He knows he gets to visit Vince. Somehow, the two have bonded—not sure if that’s a good thing. Vince is an old, grumpy troublemaker.

I knock softly on the door. You never know if the old man hasn’t drifted off to sleep in his chair, reading his newspaper. Last thing I want to do is give him a heart attack.

“What now?”

I open the door and walk in.

“Now, look who’s in a good mood today?”

“Oh, it’s you, kiddo. Come in and lock the door. Quick.” We make our way in and lock the door. I’m wondering if Vince might be slowly losing his wits. My expression must betray my thoughts since he feels prompted to explain.

“A new woman moved in two days ago. Marge. She seems to have taken a liking to me. I can’t get a moment of peace. She stalks me, kiddo. I’m too old for a stalker.”

I can’t help a snort from escaping, while trying hard not to laugh, which earns me a glare from Vince.

“So, who’s the mute without manners next to you?” He nods his head at Ben.

Before I have a chance to introduce him, Ben steps forward, reaching out his hand.

“Sorry. I’m Ben.”

Vince looks at me, his eyes the size of saucers. He doesn’t make any indication of shaking Ben’s hand, making the scene that plays out in front of me look really awkward and bizarre.

“The Ben?”

I just nod, while Ben looks back and forth between the two of us, before pulling his arm back and shoving his hand in his pocket.

“So what is he doing here?”

I have to smile at Vince’s protectiveness. He won’t be making it easy on Ben. He knows all about our story. Well, everything but the naughty details.

“He’s currently living with us and getting to know Archer.”

“About fucking time.” With that, Vince turns his attention to Archer. “Hey, little pooper. What’s new?” Archer starts reaching out toward Vince with his little arms, desperate to get some cuddles.

“Apparently he’s been missing you, Vince.”

Right that moment, we hear a woman’s voice in the corridor. “Vincent, are you in there?”

“I guess Archer isn’t the only one that’s been missing you, old man. Marge seems to have the hots for you,” I joke, planting my ass on the edge of Vince’s bed. I look up at Ben to find him standing in the middle of the room, undecided what to do. Granted, Vince can come off less than friendly and he seems to be making Ben pay on my behalf.

“You can sit down, Ben.” I smile up at him.

Ben sits down on the edge of the bed—so far on the edge that I worry he’s going to land on his ass any minute. But it doesn’t take him long to find his usual cockiness and bravado.

“Mr. Briggs, your house is really a work of art. I’ve been working on it for the past week and it’s stunning.”

Vince studies him for a moment, but talk about his house always wins him over and he jumps headfirst into the conversation, while Archer busies himself drooling all over Vince’s watch.

The men talk woodwork, floors, and windows. There is only so much fascination I can find in different wood grains.

“I’ll go grab us some tea from the cafeteria,” I excuse myself, but neither of the three men seems to pay me any attention. I leave the room and start strolling down the hallway, when a woman suddenly comes up next to me.

“Are you Vincent’s daughter?”

“Umm...no. And you are?”

“Marge. You’re not his girlfriend either, are you? He’s not into younger women, is he?” I take a good look at the woman, in case I need to describe her to the cops in the future. She’s not just a fry short of a happy meal; she’s missing the burger, too.

“Marge. You’ll excuse me. I need to grab some tea.”

I refuse to give an answer to her crazy and rude questions. But I’ve underestimated her. She shuffles behind me to the cafeteria, where I go about making myself a cup of tea, knowing neither man will be interested in drinking anything.

“So, who are you? Why were you in Vincent’s room? Is he seeing anybody?”

She’s all up in my personal space, and I suddenly feel the biggest sympathy toward Vince. I can be quite protective myself, and I get why he was annoyed earlier—bordering on paranoid.

“Lady, listen. Vince might be grumpy, but apparently still too polite to spell it out. I, on the other hand, am not. Stop following him, stop stalking him, best—stop talking to him altogether. If or who he sees is none of your damn business. Leave. Him. The. Hell. Alone.”

With that, I sidestep her and make my way back to Vincent’s room. Pausing before I walk in, I can hear him and Ben still talking. Or actually, Vince is and he sounds serious. I ignore my manners or upbringing for a minute and lean casually against the doorframe to hear better.

“Be good to her, boy. You’ve caused her enough pain already. You haven’t seen her after you left. She was a shadow of herself. Fuck this up again, and I’ll be coming for you myself. I might be old, but remember, I got nothing to lose.”

Hearing that, I have to smile while my eyes tear up a bit. Old sweet grump that Vincent is. At the same time, I can’t help that little stabbing pain in my chest, remembering my emotional state when I came back after that infamous night.

“I won’t, sir. I care about her. She’s the reason I came back. I just don’t know if it’ll be enough for her to let me back in.”

“Oh, you kids are so fucking dumb. She already has. She just hasn’t admitted it to herself yet.”

Before Vincent can analyze me any further, and before I might be forced to confront the truth, I make a noisy entrance to announce my arrival.

“Hey guys, I’m back. What you’ve been talking about?”

Both of them look at each other, then at me. “Just about the work on the house,” Vincent says nonchalantly. I guess male bonding worked well for them.

“Well, hate to cut your little bromance short, but it’s getting late and we have to get going. Time for dinner and then we have to get Archer ready for bed.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. It was good seeing you.”

Just then Ben comes up next to me, puts an arm around my shoulder, and tucks me closer to him.
No, I will not start purring like a kitten and start rubbing myself on him. No, I will not.

“Vincent, we’d love for you to spend Christmas dinner with us? It’s going to be just a few of us, including Mrs. Walsh and Frankie’s brother. What do you say?”

My heart warms at Ben’s idea, having planned to ask Vincent myself. I smile at him in agreement.

“As long as you keep Mrs. Walsh away from me, I’m in. She already put three men six feet under.”

“Well, not our fault you seem to be irresistible. By the way, I don’t think Marge will be bothering you much in the future anymore.” I smile at him smugly.

“What did you do, kiddo?”

“Who, me? Nothing. You know, I’m sweet like a peach.”

I lean down and give him a peck on the cheek and pick up Archer. Winking, I call over my shoulder while walking through the door, “See you next week.”

Ben follows after me, and while we make our way to the car, his phone starts ringing. He pulls it out and looks at the screen, but then just as quickly rejects the call and slides his phone back into his pocket.

After a short internal battle, I succumb to curiosity. “Who was that?”

He scratches his head and looks anywhere but at me. The phone call clearly has made him nervous.

“Oh, doesn’t matter. Nothing important. Want me to drive?” 

I’m smart enough to realize he’s trying to distract me from the phone call. I wonder who’s been calling him and who he’s been talking with on the phone a few times now. Moreover, I wonder why he’s trying to hide it. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, thinking about the possibilities. If it’s another woman, why would he try to win me back or tell Vince that he cares about me?

“Hello, anybody home?” His voice rouses me from my thoughts, and I realize I haven’t answered him yet.

Ben driving sounds like a good idea to me. That way I can just kick back and relax the few minutes that it takes to drive back home.

“Sure.”

I strap Archer into his seat. When I close the door and turn around, Ben’s standing there with a worried look on his face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You just spaced out for a moment there.” He gently tugs my baggy beanie over my ear, since it slipped up wrestling Archer into his seat.

Between the familiarity in his gesture and my thoughts, I feel completely overwhelmed. And I’m definitely not going to strip my soul bare, and tell him that I wonder if he’s been seeing someone else, if there still is someone else and that this makes my heart ache for some fucked up reason.

“I’m fine. Really.” I walk past him and out of his closeness. Thankful for the distance, I hope it will still my racing thoughts and pulse.

“So, what did you do to Marge? Will I have to bail you out of jail?” Ben asks, once we hit the road.

“Oh, we just had a heart-to-heart. That’s all.” I grin into the dark, thinking of our little conversation.

“You know, I can see that grin and it’s slightly frightening.” He puts a hand on my knee, squeezing it lightly and I suppress the shiver that threatens to run through my body at his touch.
Go away hormones. Go the hell away.

“You know, you’ve built a good life for yourself here.” I’m not sure, but I think I can hear some regret in his voice. I have that inbuilt urge to cheer him up. Sometimes I feel like I have multiple personalities that either hate him or love him, and neither of them can win apparently.

Giving in to the urge, I turn to him, studying his profile while he drives.

“Well, it seems like you’re building a good life here for yourself as well. Everyone loves you and that just after one week.”

I can see the corners of his mouth lift. “Everyone?”

I smack him on the arm. “Nice try.”

“Hey, it was worth a shot.”

Thankfully, the rest of the drive is too quick for me to think about what I truly feel for him. I’m not ready to go down the path of facing my emotions. I like them to be nicely buried in my subconscious, fully aware they will sneak to the surface at the most inconvenient time possible.