Chapter 5

Ben Montgomery was hilarious. All bossy and tall with one eyebrow that wouldn’t stop twitching whenever he was annoyed. After my nap and thanks to my daily dose of Ben-a-dryl—damn, I should not be thinking about Ben and drilling at the same time—I was feeling sooo much better.

He was obviously a genius.

And also knew how to purchase a badass couch.

It’d been another two sleepless nights between the time I’d blown Ben off—not in the way I wanted, dammit—and the time I showed up half out of my mind at his office. And those two nights felt like a living hell.

The only thing I had in my stinky-old-lady room to keep me company at the B&B was yet another yellowing floral comforter, and my own existential dread.

Miles was back at school. He was an art teacher, which I found super fucking cute and very fitting. I loved picturing his giant frame standing at the front of a classroom full of leaky- nosed-crayon-wielding-hobbits. Bet he was the best damn art teacher they’d ever had, lucky little shits.

I sure as hell had not had a teacher like him growing up.

The only exception was maybe my music teacher.

She’d been pretty cool.

Damn, I hadn’t thought about her in a long time.

I was thirty-three now, and that may not have been old, but I sure wore my years that way. Wore them like each one weighed a thousand tons, because sometimes it felt like they did.

Because I didn’t want to be a sad sack and I wanted to make Ben’s eyebrow twitch again, I smacked his ass with my femur. He startled, glaring over his shoulder at me. He was bent over the pile of bones I’d accidentally toppled, on his knees, because he’d said crouching was uncomfortable on his back.

I wasn’t sure why he’d told me that, but I appreciated it all the same.

“ Robin .” Ben said my name like it was a sentence, irritation and amusement laced in his tone.

“Has anyone ever told you that your ass is stubborn?” I asked, smacking said ass again. The plastic bone made a very satisfying hollow thud sound. I was careful not to whack too hard. Now that he’d mentioned his back, I was wary of hurting him.

“No.” He paused. “Why?” Ben’s question was dry as hell, like he knew what was coming before I even said it.

“Because it just won’t quit.”

Thwack.

Damn. It even jiggled.

“If you hit me again you aren’t going to like the consequences.” I could hear his laughter, so I didn’t take him too seriously.

“Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises.” I thumped the bone into my palm, leaving him alone for now as he painstakingly began notching all the little plastic pieces together again. He was halfway through and I didn’t want this to end.

Maybe if I smacked him more it’d buy me time?

I didn’t want to go back upstairs alone. Didn’t want to curl into a ball on my mattress, counting down the hours till Miles was off work and he could spend time with me. Didn’t want to think too hard about the impending doom that always seemed to hang over me nowadays.

I’d flown across the country and still hadn’t moved far enough to escape the shadow of dread that clung inky black to my heart. My contract was up in less than two months, and the idea of renewing it made me want to die.

The truth was, I hadn’t told Ben what had really happened before I’d visited him at his office.

Figured he didn’t need to know that I’d seen black spots. That the world had swum and swum. That my knees had buckled while I was admiring what was left of Matilda’s aged Halloween decor, and I’d woken up covered in dust with a plastic skull staring at me.

I’d picked myself right up off the ground as quickly as I could before someone could see—I had no doubt the rumor mill would eat that shit up here. Maybe for different reasons than the paparazzi would back home, but still. Last thing I wanted was to be pitied while I was here. I wanted this to be the best Christmas ever.

Needed it to be the best Christmas ever.

Unlike any Christmas I’d ever had before.

Besides, my doctor had told me that getting away from the stress of my life in the city would more than likely help. Which made sense. Stress-induced insomnia was apparently a thing? And his theory made sense.

Except…I’d been here three days now, and still …couldn’t fucking sleep.

Unless I was in Ben’s personal space, that was.

Sure…smacking Ben’s ass was a detour from my “Best Christmas Ever” plan, but it was a good one—good enough I figured I might even add it to my official itinerary. “Robin’s Perfect Christmas To-Do List” had officially gotten one item longer. Besides, I was still whole-heartedly on the path to the nice-list, despite my dalliance with those thick-ass glutes. And this was still working toward my goal.

I definitely wasn’t trying to distract myself from my feelings. Nope. Totally not. Nooope.

Thwack, I slammed the bone into Ben’s ass again.

Just to see what he’d do.

Because he’d threatened me. And I kinda wanted him to follow through.

Maybe he’d get up and chase me around or something. I dunno. Grab the bone back and smack my ass till it was red? That sounded fun too.

But he…didn’t.

Instead, he made good on his promise—and did something I definitely didn’t like.

He ignored me.

“Ben,” I tried after a solid minute of silence and four more booty smacks. “Ben.” Smack, smack . “ Ben .” Goddammit. Goddammit. Fuck. How did he already know me so well? It didn’t make sense. He was a fucking stranger. I hated this. “Ben?” I tried again.

This time I did not smack his ass.

This felt mean.

I hated it.

The bone fell to the ground with a hollow thump and I shivered, the cold feeling colder all of a sudden.

“Are you going to behave now?” Ben asked, finally breaking the silence. I knew realistically it hadn’t been that long. Maybe two minutes at most. But my skin felt like it was crawling, and my chest felt too tight, and my hands were shaking.

Sick and unhappy, I nodded, curling my arms tightly around myself. I didn’t look down at Ben, figuring it didn’t matter if he saw my nod or not.

This wasn’t fun anymore.

“ Oh ,” Ben’s voice flooded with warmth, low and rumbling and soft. “I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t look at him.

Or I’d probably do something stupid like cry.

I was too tired for this shit.

“ Robin ,” Ben rose from his spot on the ground with a quiet groan. He stretched his back out, grimacing as I peeked at him through my lashes. “ Come here. ” He didn’t even brush the dirt off his knees as he held a hand out to me.

And because I was fucking pitiful, it only took me two seconds to latch onto it, despite my hurt feelings. Ben’s hands were larger than mine, and warmer. I’d thought that before too—when we’d shook hands at the airport. He had piano hands. Fingers long and dexterous and careful.

Mine were rougher, by comparison. Guitar calluses definitely didn’t help.

“Look at me,” Ben’s voice was gentle and my lips wobbled as I did as I was told—finally, unhappily meeting his gaze.

His eyes were liquid caramel, warm as a bonfire.

Looking into them sent a shiver up my spine, even though I still felt small and miserable and cold.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, even gentler this time, very obviously sincere. His dark lashes fluttered, casting shadows on his cheeks. The grumpy eyebrow twitch was missing. He wasn’t annoyed, despite how I was freaking out. And he really did look sorry. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was mean,” I told him, voice hoarse. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He seemed to inspire honesty out of me, even when I didn’t want him to.

“It was mean,” he agreed, squeezing my hand tight. “I won’t do it again.”

I nodded jerkily, the tension in my body settling a little.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, because I knew him giving me the silent treatment had to have been intentional. “If you knew it was mean.”

Why are you doing this?

He’s going to think you’re annoying.

Why are you making such a big deal about this?

He was kidding.

Ben tipped his head to the side, a dark lock of auburn hair falling across his forehead. The sun lit him up from behind, dancing across his jaw and painting him with a halo, kinda like an angel. It was setting now, the autumn cold creeping in as the sun sank below the trees at the back of the B&B’s unkempt yard.

Didn’t look like anyone had taken care of this place in years. Paint peeling on the fence. The shed where the decorations were normally housed half-rotted. I wasn’t stupid. I knew Matilda Deed hadn’t always run this place alone, and judging from the photo frames that lined the mantle in the lounge downstairs, Mr. Deed’s death had hurt more than just her heart.

There were empty holes everywhere. Things he used to do probably. Things she couldn’t do anymore without thinking of him. Like how I couldn’t eat lemon cookies without thinking about my mom. About the only time she’d ever smiled at me, when I’d been too little to realize she hated me.

Ben was quiet as I mused, seemingly waiting for the moment my eyes connected with his again and he had my full attention.

I hadn’t meant to space out.

I’d warned him earlier that I had a tendency to deflect, and apparently the same could be said for my thoughts.

Ben’s eyes said, there you are.

They said, it’s okay.

They said, forgive me?

And when he was looking at me like that…it was kinda impossible not to.

“When we were younger we often played juvenile games to keep each other in check,” Ben explained, his palm warming mine. He hadn’t taken his hand away, and I didn’t remove mine either. Being touched felt so fucking good. “I responded to your teasing the way I would’ve if Trent had been the one hitting me.”

I nodded because that made sense, even if it made me feel weird he was treating me like his little brother.

Why does that make me feel weird?

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Ben added, voice soft. “I didn’t realize it would upset you the way it did.”

My heart fluttered.

“Do you forgive me?” Ben asked, holding my hand tight.

I nodded, the heavy weight that had hung over me falling away. “Next time just call me an asshole,” I told him. “I really…” I sucked in a breath. “I really, really hated that.”

“Noted.”

Ben looked reluctant to let me go, and I didn’t know why.

Except…fuck, if I was being honest, I did.

He could probably see how bad I wanted him to hold on.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” I added because I was.

“It’s okay,” Ben replied, tone just as soft. “Were you testing me?”

“Testing you?”

“To see how I would respond?”

I…hadn’t realized that was what I was doing. Maybe in a way, it was. Maybe I’d been burned enough in my life that I’d wanted to suss out if Ben would do it too, early on.

“Maybe?”

“Ah.” Ben’s voice was a quiet rumble, and his expression was fond. “I hope I passed.”

“You did.”

I hadn’t liked being ignored. But the fact that he hadn’t raised his voice or his hands meant a lot to me. Made me feel safer now that I knew he wasn’t likely to act rashly—as odd as that sounded.

Belleville was like an alternate dimension. People were…nice here without knowing my net worth. They smiled at me. They greeted me. They threw big-ass parties and brought snacks and treats—taking the time to bake, to dress up, to leave the goddamn house just to meet a stranger.

It was no wonder Miles fit in here.

But I…well… I wasn’t so sure I did.

Ben and I seemed to have a lot in common.

Like no matter how hard he tried, he was an outcast just like I was. Never quite sized to fit the cookie cutter this picturesque place expected. This encounter proved that. He may be soft like the other Bellevillians, but he had a backbone too. And he was odd—in a good way.

He liked me.

Even after I’d freaked out at him for doing something totally normal—smacked his ass over and over and over—and followed him to work like a lost puppy.

Fuck, why did I hit him with the bone?

It was a testament to how much better I was feeling after my nap on his couch that I was even able to feel remorse at all. Usually it wasn’t till days later that the mortification would set in and I’d realized just how odd my behavior had been.

Aaaaand now I’d been weirdly quiet again.

Goddammit, Robin.

How did Ben not realize I was a walking red flag?

How could anyone put up with me for an extended period of time?

I was “too much” on a good day, and I hadn’t had many of those lately.

“Robin,” Ben’s voice was a quiet hum that broke through my spiraling thoughts. Something warm brushed the shell of my cheek and I jolted, startled. “Did you…” Warm, warm, warm, Ben’s hand pressed against my cheek, fingers brushing along my temple. Fucking Bigfoot hands, goddamn.

“Did I, what ?”

Ben sounded hesitant.

Slowly, my mind came back to the present. Focusing on Ben’s toffee-colored gaze and the way the setting sun lit his hair like Christmas ribbon, snow-laced pine trees framing the sides of the artfully styled strands.

“Sorry, I realized what I was about to ask was incredibly invasive.”

“Oh.”

“It’s the psychologist in me. That was my favorite part of school. I have a hard time turning it off.”

“Like Hannibal Lecter,” I hummed without thinking. Ben blinked. Then his serious expression cracked and he laughed, shaking his head.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Like Hannibal Lecter.”

“The NBC one or the Silence of the Lambs one?”

“NBC, obviously.”

“That’s a very gay choice of you, Ben,” I hummed, warming up all over again.

“Is there any other choice?”

“I mean, Anthony Hopkins is a total snack,” I countered. Then my cheeks warmed when I realized I’d had that very thought about Ben earlier that week. His palm never budged from my cheek, his fingers tracing these very distracting patterns on my skin while he grinned down at me. He was going to hurt his back if he kept bending down like that.

“Anthony Hopkins is an incredibly talented actor,” Ben agreed.

“ And a total snack.” I blinked innocently. Again, Ben’s smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. In a weird way, he looked his oldest then. He had kind of a baby face? Looked close to my age most of the time. The gray at his temples betrayed him, of course, but still. For the most part, the years didn’t show.

They did now though, written in every gorgeous crinkle by his already expressive eyes. Laugh lines. These were laugh lines. And they were…fuck. Ben Montgomery was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.

And he had never been more beautiful than he was then, all forty-something years of him. (Yes, I’d asked Miles how old he was. I’d asked him a lot of questions, obviously.)

“Say it, Ben,” I hummed. “Say that he’s a total snack.”

“Please don’t make me do that,” Ben laughed.

“Coward,” I tsked.

“I like my men a lot less… terrifying ,” Ben snorted. “And I’ve been told I have very good taste.”

“Whoever told you that also probably does not think Anthony Hopkins is delicious. And is therefore also tasteless.”

“Jesus Christ .” Ben’s head tossed back as he chuckled, shaking his head like he was asking the overcast sky for patience. It was the second “Jesus Christ” he’d uttered around me in that exact same tone, and it kinda felt like I’d won an award.

It looked like snow would fall tonight, covering the quiet streets of Belleville in a soft white blanket.

I was…weirdly excited about that.

It would be the first snowfall of the season. The first true snow I’d ever really seen. Like movies, you know? With the pine trees and the mountains. With the trees still painted autumn’s fiery hues.

All my life I’d imagined what that would be like.

Would the snow be soft?

It looked so soft.

Would it be cold? It was hard to imagine.

I’d seen snow on occasion when I was a kid. But we weren’t really allowed to go outside. And I’d always used my imagination to fill in the gaps.

All my life I’d dreamed of one of those big, winter snow storms. The kind that piled up against doors. The kind that crunched beneath your feet. The kind that was as peaceful as it was dangerous.

But now that I’d heard Ben’s laugh, I had a feeling the snow’s beauty wouldn’t compare. Not to his laugh lines. Not to the way his face scrunched up, a miracle in itself.

“You always have something to say,” Ben’s eyes danced as he stopped sharing his joy with the sky and gave it back to me. He sounded pleased by this, which was another surprise.

“Trashmouth,” I hummed.

“What?”

“That’s what the other kids called me when I was little. That’s why it’s my stage name.” Ben hummed thoughtfully like he was psychoanalyzing me again. Locking away memories of the grin on my face, and the tension around my eyes so he could crack it open later and get right down to the ooey gooey parts.

He looked at me like he found me fascinating.

And I shouldn’t have liked that, but I did.

“Ask me your question,” I hummed, my hand moving up to cup the back of his, to force it to stay where it was. “The invasive one you didn’t want to ask.”

“Really?” Ben’s eyes widened, his brows rising.

“Sure.” This was an exercise in trust. Which was something my therapist had strongly urged me to do while I was over here on vacation for the holidays. Ben could take what I gave him to the press. He could twist my words and hurt me.

But I didn’t think he would.

Simple as that.

“Were you often ignored when you were a child?” Ben asked, looking nervous—like he was still scared of upsetting me.

Memories surfaced, of sitting by Miles when he was sick, of combing his hair back, of waiting for help that never came. Memories of spending hours building sand castles only for the waves to knock them away before my mother ever turned to look.

“Yeah,” I admitted, and it didn’t hurt like it should.

Because maybe I’d been ignored then, but Ben was looking at me now.

I was here, and it was going to snow, and Ben’s hands were larger than dinner plates—so there was no need to be sad.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Ben’s thumb rubbed my cheekbone, and I hummed, squeezing the back of his hand in reply. “No child should ever feel ignored. Especially not one as precious as I’m sure you were.”

“It’s old news.” My eyes fluttered shut as something cold and wet fluttered down to my temple. It took me a second to realize what it was—lighter than rain, and softer somehow. Chilly. Snow.

A snowflake .

“Shit!” I knocked Ben’s hand off my cheek without thinking as I jerked my head back to stare at the sky. “It’s snowing!”

“Just because it’s old pain doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt you,” Ben countered quietly. “It’s okay if it does. And I promise to never ignore you agai?—”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna make a snowman .” Slapping Ben on the chest in excitement, this time deflecting accidentally, as visions of what was to come danced around in my head. “ Oh my god,” I repeated, hopping up and down in excitement. “Oh-my-god. I could go sledding!” Shit. “I need a sled. Where do you buy a sled? Is there a store for that?”

That excitement, however, was short-lived because I realized that I’d successfully distracted Ben from his job—and now it was snowing—and there was no way he was going to be able to finish the skeleton now.

Deflating, I realized that snow probably also meant going inside. And not sleds, like I’d hoped. And certainly not snowman.

And…that also meant no more Ben.

Damn.

“I forget you’re from the South,” Ben hummed thoughtfully, watching me with fondness. He seemed to decide he’d stared too long, however, because he dropped back down to his knees on the cold, leaf-strewn ground, and began working on the skeleton again. Like it wasn’t fucking snowing. Little white blobs landing on the back of his dark red hair.

“What—”

“You don’t have much of an accent. Not like your brother.”

“Only when I’m horny,” I waggled my eyebrows, but my sexy one-liner was wasted on him.

Doctor Ben was back.

“Have you never seen snow?” Ben asked, continuing to fit the bones together.

“I’ve seen it.” I rolled my eyes, sticking my hands in my armpits to keep them warm. It was cold without Ben’s hand on my face. A few more snowflakes melted on my cheeks. “Just not like this. Live. Actually falling. Where I could touch it.”

I did another happy jig, feet crunching on the grass.

“Have you really never been sledding?” Ben asked. Either I was going crazy, or he was working three times as fast as he had been before. Click, click, click. Bones notched back into place.

“No. Pshh . I wish. That’s like number one on my ‘Perfect Christmas To-Do List’.”

“Would you like to?” Ben’s voice was far away, like he was already plotting ahead. Click, click, click.

If I didn’t know any better—based on his current speed—and the fact that he was still able to maintain an entire conversation, Ben Montgomery had been stalling earlier. Just like I had.

Oh shit.

My heart beat like crazy.

“Would I like to go sledding? Hell yes.”

Ben paused, quiet for a solid thirty seconds before he spoke again.

“Every time it snows all the Montgomery’s get together at Knoll park and go sledding,” Ben informed me like this was a fact. Click, click, click. And suddenly, the skeleton was back in working order, aside from the femur I’d been toting around. It sat at my feet, and Ben twisted to grab it, lingering a little longer than necessary before he shoved it into place.

He rose to his feet, hung the skeleton back onto its stand, and turned to face me.

“That’s cool,” I echoed, a little too late—because holy shit. The dude was a genius.

“Would you like to maybe…come?”

“I always want to come,” I joked—then flushed because I realized what I’d said too late to stop the words. “I mean, yes. Please, Sir Bennington. Allow me to rideth your sledeths with your clan.” I saluted him, then waited for orders. “I don’t knoweth where Knoll Parketh is, but I will findeth out.” I twisted around, like an idiot, trying to see the magical sledding park he spoke of through the trees and past the buildings that dotted the road beside the B&B.

Ben’s eyes danced with amusement. “I’m feeding you first.”

“Boo,” I countered with a sigh.

Ah. Boo !

Now that would be a fun way to scare him. K.I.S.S. Keep it simple, stupid. And all that.

Miles told me this year was unseasonably cold. That last year, the chill hadn’t hit till December. I couldn’t help but be glad. Felt like the world was planning on giving me the white Christmas of my dreams. And Ben Montgomery was the Christmas elf I hadn’t known I needed.