Totally and Completely Fine(70)

I gaped. “What?”

“They had a complicated relationship,” he said. “What about your mother? Your father?”

“I work with my mom at the store,” I said. “She used to teach high school English.”

“Was she ever your teacher?”

I shook my head. “Cooper is small, but not so small that it doesn’t have two high schools. We were at Central. She taught at West Cooper.”

“And your dad?”

“He died when I was eleven,” I said. “I’m sure Gabe has mentioned it.”

Ben nodded. “It might have come up. What was he like?”

“My dad? He was great. Funny, in a silly way. Always could get my mom to laugh even if she was annoyed with him. Worked really hard—everyone at his job came to the funeral, even the people in HR. Stray cats would follow him home—we had a bunch of them over the years. Peaches, Wabbit, Darryl Strawberry, Big Fat Fuzzy Guy, Spoon,” I said. “He basically adopted Spencer too.”

I bit my lip. I hadn’t meant to bring him up. Even though I knew Carl had been an absolute asshole, I still couldn’t help the twinge of self-consciousness I felt at mentioning Spencer.

“Do you still spend Christmas with Danny and his family?” I asked.

Now I was the one who wanted to change the subject.

“When I can,” he said. “But it can be complicated because Fran is my employee, or colleague, or something. Makes it feel kind of weird to act like we’re family, though she insists it’s fine.”

“Maybe you should fire her,” I said. “That way it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“Have you been talking to Fran?” he asked.

“She sounds smart,” I said.

“She is,” Ben said. “But now that thing with Bond—”

He abruptly stopped himself.

“Did something change with Bond?” I asked.

“Why don’t I get the check?” Ben suggested.

Had he gotten an offer? Been put back in the running?

Whatever it was, he didn’t want to tell me.

“Okay,” I said.

He went up to the hostess’s podium, and I wiped my hands on my jeans. They were sweaty and cold. I ate another fry, and then pushed the plate away and went to meet Ben at the front of the restaurant.

The parking lot was empty except for one vehicle.

“Is this Gabe’s truck?” I asked.

“He’s letting me borrow it while he’s out of town,” Ben said.

“Ollie didn’t want a ride on Lillian?” I asked.

Like half the things I said to Ben, it was far more suggestive than I’d intended.

“Lillian’s not his type.”

“Pity,” I said.

“If you’re interested,” he said, “all you need to do is ask.”

“I’m good.”

But the thought of wrapping my arms around Ben, his machine vibrating beneath us, was becoming more and more appealing. And I was running out of reasons why it was a bad idea. Why all of this was a bad idea.

“Open offer,” he said.

I stared at my feet.

“Got any more hot dates planned?” he asked.

“That wasn’t a date,” I said.

“Of course not,” he said.

I gave him a look.

“I’m done with dating,” I said.

“That’s too bad. I personally thought your last one ended very nicely.”

“It won’t happen again,” I said.

“By that do you mean have incredible sex that you flee from the moment you’ve come?” Ben asked.

My face burned hot, but he wasn’t wrong.

I glanced around quickly, worried someone had heard. He noticed.

“We’re in a parking lot,” he said. “No one is here.”

He was right.

“You have to be careful,” I said.

“I’m very careful,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure I’m not the one sneaking off to a strange man’s apartment or molesting said man during dinner.”

My mouth dropped open. “Your hands were on me.”

He grinned.

“You’re the worst,” I said.

“You still like me,” he said.

“I don’t like you at all.”

“Liar.”

It was cold and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. There was no reason for me to be standing there—if I’d started walking home when we left the restaurant, I would have been back already.

To an empty house.

“Come on,” Ben said. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Chapter 37

Now

I didn’t even know what kind of music he liked to listen to.

As it turned out, he had the local country music station playing as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the edge of town.

“Didn’t take you for a country boy,” I said.

“When in Rome,” he said. “And I like all types of music.”

“What about Joni Mitchell?” I asked, thinking about one of Allyson’s disastrous dates.

“What’s not to love?” he asked.