Page 77 of Every Good Thing
Ben and I exchange awkward glances before I say, “Ruthie, say hello to Mrs. Riley.”
“Hello,” Ruthie says. “Can I ride the ponies? They aren’t doing it right.”
“Of course!” She holds out her hand to Ruthie. “May I escort you?”
Ruthie looks at me. I look to Ben. He nods hesitantly. She happily pulls Jillian along like a puppy on a leash.
“Sorry about that.” Lauren moves in. “You know how Mom is.”
Ben shrugs, watching Ruthie drift away from us.
“Lauren, it’s nice to see you again.” I offer my hand.
She shakes it tenderly, gives me a curt once over, and then remembers her vampire-esque entourage. Introductions follow—their names jumble in my head, but I smile wide and give vigorous handshakes.
Finally, she introduces her father, John, who steps between the others, like Moses parting the Red Sea.
He is a silver fox—fit, gray, and charming.
“Lena.” He says my name like it’s the title of an amazing rock ballad. “I’ve been dying to meet you. Saddletree is the kind of homegrown, family-friendly, local business we started Riley Trust Bank to support.”
They never would’ve given me a loan for Saddletree. They turned me down with my first bakery. “I love a bank that looks out for the little guys.”
He chuckles. “That’s us. I can’t wait until you reopen so I can see the magic for myself.”
“Saddletree is magic. Thanks. It’s a lot like this. A place to connect.”
“It’s more than that,” he gushes. “NC Magazine calls your cinnamon rolls legendary.”
“Wow, you’ve done your homework. They’re very popular,” I say, now feeling pseudo-humble myself. In Dot’s language, my cinnamon rolls are da bomb.
“Being married to Lena means doubling my workouts,” Ben says.
Everyone laughs while I gape with pleasant surprise at my charming husband.
Someone seeks John’s attention nearby, but before he leaves us, he says, “Make yourself at home. Give Lena the grand tour, Ben.”
“And Lena, save me a dance, huh?” Dr. Rob Riley coos, following his brother.
“Not a chance, Rob,” Ben tacks on, making them laugh again.
I feel like I’ve been electrocuted. Ben’s being outgoing without being prodded? Who is this man?
I spot Ruthie through the crowd. She’s perched on a dark brown pony, attempting to get the poor animal to canter despite protests from the woman holding the lead. Mrs. Riley sticks to her side, and Lauren soon joins her, as if a four-year-old is a fun novelty, like Spanx or BMWs. I wonder if they know what they’ve gotten themselves into.
I take advantage of the free babysitting and lean into Ben. “Dance with me?”
His eyes narrow skeptically.
“Ah, come on. We used to do it all the time,” I remind him, smiling and edging closer. “On rainy days in the carport.”
“Sometimes, I wish we could go back to those days,” he says, his big hands slipping around my waist.
“Me, too.”
“Sorry for being a dick lately.”
“Good, you should be,” I say lightly. His blanket apology feels half-hearted, though he seems sincere. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
