Page 19 of More With You

Reluctantly, Ben pulls away from me, though his arm stays around my waist as he shoots a look toward the back of the open-fronted bar. A man with a shock of red hair and a beard to match is standing with a plastic crate of crawling, flailing crawfish in his bulky arms, grinning over at me and Ben. I know he’s the famed “Lucky,” but only because Ben pointed him out earlier.

“There’s no one else here, Lucky!” Ben complains, only half serious.

Lucky shrugs. “Then stop upsettin’ my crawfish! They’ll turn red before they’re even in the pot if you two carry on.” He nods to me. “Hey, ain’t you that lady who’s always hangin’ around Ms. T’s?”

“Could be,” I say vaguely, knowing there’s no way this won’t get back to my friend. I’m surprised my phone isn’t ringing already.

Lucky looks up at the big clock on the wall. “She’ll be comin’ by soon. If you don’t want her catchin’ you, I suggest you find someplace else for your shenanigans.” Apparently, he’s well aware of Ms. T’s baffling way of finding out everyone’s business, and he’s giving us a head-start. Of course, I’ll fill Ms. T in when I next see her, and I’ll be more than happy to do so, but the last thing I want is a third wheel on this date. And once Ms. T gets talking, we’ll be spending the rest of the day here.

Ben and I exchange a look. “Should we get out of here?” I suggest.

“Where to next?” He spreads an arm across the near horizon.

Shyly, I dip my chin to my chest. “There’s a pretty little bay next to my cottage. We could take these to-go and finish up there.” I’ve only had one beer and a few sips of another, and I’ve got a fear of leaving my car overnight, anywhere that isn’t my house.

“Do you want to ride with me on the bike?” He looks hopeful, and I wish I didn’t have to dash them. Or my own. Right now, I can think of nothing better than sitting behind him on his motorcycle, with my arms wrapped around him, feeling the wind in my face. Unfortunately, loyalty to my precious Honda prevails.

“Another day, maybe?” I whip out my phone and show him my address on the map. “Do you know where that is? Can you meet me there?”

He leans in and kisses me again. “Text me your address. I’ll race you… within the speed limit.”

“Deal.”

Gathering up the crawfish and double-bagging it to avoid any lurid, red leaks, I take the food while Ben grabs the beers. That done, his hand slides into mine, and we make the leisurely walk back to the parking lot of the Bayou Bend. Sure, we keep getting interrupted, but there’s beauty in the silence and the peace of the Gulf, and just being in his company.

And no one will disturb us at my cottage… I smile secretly, feeling kind of proud of my boldness. I mean, I wasn’t going to invite him into my bedroom just yet, but I was eager to find out where his kisses could lead.

* * *

I hug my knees and check my phone for the hundredth time, while the plastic bag of crawfish whips and rustles in the warm, salty breeze. It’s turning into a perfect afternoon, the sun high, the sky cloudless, with the heat tempered by the wind. There’s just one flaw—Ben isn’t here. He should be, but he’s not. The crawfish are cold, the beer is tepid, and my nerves are reaching fever pitch.

“Where is he?” I hiss, looking at the time. We left Lucky’s at the same time, and I followed behind him for most of the drive, until he zoomed off at one of the intersections leading to my cottage. I figured he was racing on ahead, and he’d be waiting for me here, with that irresistible smile and the promise of his lips. I even ran up from the road, risking a few scratches from the scrub and thorny bushes, only to find the small, sandy bay empty. I suppose I should’ve guessed he wouldn’t be here, since I hadn’t seen his motorcycle anywhere, but I thought he’d hidden it in some bushes or something, for security. It’s a nice motorcycle.

Anyway, it’s been half an hour since I got here. Half an hour of anxious nail-biting and a consuming fear that I’ve done something wrong. I’ve searched the nearby area. I even went into my cottage, wondering if he was making himself at home. Nothing. No sign of him whatsoever. But it doesn’t make sense, if he has ditched me. He offered to ride us both here. He keeps kissing me. Those aren’t the actions of someone who’s already had enough, are they?

As worried as I am annoyed, I open my phone and dial his number for the third time. Fairly restrained of me, considering he’s just vanished into thin air. I wait to hear the robotic voice of his voicemail. Instead, it clicks and connects, and Ben’s voice comes through the speaker, sounding tired and deeply, deeply apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, Summer,” he says. “I was literally at your gate when I got a call. There’s been some trouble up at the house. I had to come and fix it. I’m so sorry. God, I’m so, so sorry. Believe me, I wish I was with you.”

I frown, not sure how to feel. “You couldn’t have waited for me before you ran off? I wasn’t that far behind you.”

“I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t urgent, Summer.” He sighed sadly. “In hindsight, I should’ve stayed to explain. I left a note on your gate, though.”

My frown deepens. “I didn’t see a note.”

“I swear to you, I put one there.” I don’t know why, but I believe him. He sounds so exhausted, like he’s just dealt with something massive. “I would’ve texted you too, like a normal person, but I had to stay on the line with the house.”

Realization dawns. “Which house are we talking about?”

“The big one,” he replies simply. “With my parents out of town, I’m the emergency contact.”

“What was it? A fire?”

He draws in a breath, and I think of the way his chest moves. “Not far off. I’m going to be here for a while, but I can come by when I’m done? I promise I’ll make this up to you, Summer. I know it hasn’t been the perfect day we’d hoped for, with one thing and another, but… we’ll have more days to make perfect. That is, if you haven’t already decided you’re finished with me?” He sounded genuinely nervous that I might be.

I smile despite the disappointment. “I’m not even close to being finished with you. There’s still five-pounds of crawfish to eat and three beers.” I eye the stupid bag, wishing we’d stayed at Lucky’s. What did it matter if Ms. T had joined us? I love that woman, and she wouldn’t really have overstayed her welcome.

“I’ll call you when I’m done, and I’ll come straight to you,” he promises, as a deep, masculine voice babbles in the background. Evidently, he’s needed elsewhere. “This is just the start of us, Summer. I’m not going to make you regret taking a chance on me. See you soon. I swear.”

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