Need Me Page 12

  Ben shoved the laptop off his legs, not really caring where or how it landed. Had she let him into her head as some devious brand of torture? His head ached twice as bad now, stomach pitching as he gained his feet and headed for the bathroom. Halfway there, he stopped and paced back toward the bed. Then he walked to the kitchen and turned in a half circle.

  This was wrong. So wrong. He’d compared Honey to the woman who’d burned his father. This country girl who assigned her family members positions on a baseball field. Who wasn’t afraid to run for a pop fly or relate her feelings to the very person who’d shamefully abused them. Him. He’d landed outside her glove, and he could have been inside of it. Could have been caught by her, caught her in return. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that she might be everything she appeared to be. Not a liar or deceiver . . . but an amazing girl who’d gone after something she wanted. He’d been lucky enough to be that thing, and he’d punished her for trying, when maybe, just maybe, he should have been running toward her at top speed.

  No, not maybe. He wouldn’t feel this gutted over a maybe.

  This couldn’t be fixed. Could it? Could he . . . get her back? Convince her that despite his careless treatment of her thus far, he would make a stellar boyfriend? She had every right to laugh in his face. Furthermore, being Honey’s boyfriend—and he really liked how that sounded—would still mean jeopardizing his job, but there had to be a way around it. Once she was no longer actively in one of his classes, which would only be another two months from now, she wouldn’t technically be his student. They were both consenting adults. There had to be some sort of condition or allowance.

  Unless . . .

  Ben’s gaze swung toward the refrigerator. To the offer letter from NYU. Taking the job would be the perfect solution, allowing them to be together without him losing his job as a professor. Or jeopardizing her education. Damn, though. It would be a huge leap of faith, when Honey could very well tell him to fuck right off.

  Right now, all he could think of was her dealing with some crisis with her baseball team family. If she felt one-tenth as shitty as he felt, dealing with a crisis on her own was the last thing she needed. No way could he wait an entire week to fix this. So . . . what? He was going to Kentucky?

  “Fucking right I’m going to Kentucky,” he shouted into the silent apartment.

  Peter could cover his classes for the week. He still owed Ben from the time he’d gotten pneumonia and Ben had subbed his literary theory class. He’d drop off his lesson plan to Peter on his way to the airport. And next time he landed back in New York, he’d have Honey with him.

  It would appear he had a couple of phone calls to make.

  Chapter 13

  HONEY’S SORE MUSCLES protested as she hopped back up on the rickety wooden barstool. After arriving in the wee hours of Monday morning, two days had been spent plowing fields and planting corn, leaving her body feeling like one giant bruise. She’d been in New York less than two months, but it had made her soft, apparently. Her ass and thigh muscles were on fire. Shoulders stiff and aching. She’d had to get out of the house, because her father wouldn’t stop teasing her for turning into a pansy-ass.

  Lester, the bartender who’d worked at Calhoun’s Junction since her mother had been in high school, placed a shot of tequila in front of her, hiding it behind a pint glass of Coca-Cola. “I know you’re a college girl now, but we still can’t serve you. Coke’ll have to do.”

  She winked at Lester. “Thank you. Coke’s just fine.”

  After making sure no one was looking, she tossed back the shot, welcoming the way it burned in her throat. Lester swiped the shot glass back off the bar and went to serve the next customer, innocence etched into his wrinkled face. To an outsider, the business practices at Calhoun’s Junction might seem a little shady. Or illegal. Which they were. But Lester ruled over the bar like a mother hen, never letting anyone get so drunk they lost use of their faculties. Or got behind the wheel instead of calling home for a ride or carpooling with somebody sober. Senior year of high school was when Lester began sneaking her shots. All the kids knew his game, and no one ever squealed. It was just the way of things.

  In fact, as she peered through the dimness toward the back of the bar, she could see several of those shot recipients playing pool, drinking Cokes, just like she’d left them. Elmer was there, bent low over the pool table, unable to take his shot for laughing too hard. A waitress in a black apron gestured wildly with a ketchup bottle as she spoke to Darlene Lennon, one of the first girls to join Honey’s little league just over a decade ago. Katie and Jay were there, all sparkly in their new engagement and looking as if they’d never left high school. Jay still wore his letterman jacket. Katie still wore his class ring around her neck on a silver chain. None of them had seen her yet, so she took a moment to enjoy the picture they made. One that could have been taken straight out of her memory bank.

  When she was part of the group gathered around the very same pool table not so long ago, she couldn’t wait to get away. She didn’t want to be standing there, collecting dust, when the college kids, such as she was now, came home to visit. She’d wanted to go places. Do things. Make a mark. Damn it, though. There was something to be said for a place that made you feel warm. Welcome. A place that could be predicted and didn’t turn you upside down and shake you, seeing if you could stand it.

  The worst part of this feeling? She didn’t know if Ben was slightly responsible or not. She might have been feeling homesick before the shit pie was thrown at her face. Whatever the reason, a yearning for the familiar hit her now like a tsunami.

  Elmer’s head came up slowly from the pool table. “Well, I’d heard rumors, but I didn’t believe them,” he shouted across the bar. “Honey Perribow is in our midst.”

  She saluted her Coke, feeling like she’d slipped back into her old skin. “They let me back into the state against their better judgment.”

  Her friends abandoned their pool game, all talking at once as they made their way over. Just as she’d known he would, Elmer scooped her off the stool and crushed her in a bear hug. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing for just a second she could feel a spark. Anything to prove Ben hadn’t snuffed out any possibility of one. But all she felt was nostalgia over the familiar scent of Elmer’s Cool Water cologne. Damn, the professor had done a number on her. She never cried. Never. With her friends’ voices washing over her and Lester smiling from behind the bar, though, she was coming close. There was no denying it anymore. Something inside her had been damaged and needed to be knit back together. Would this visit home do it? Or would it take much longer, as she feared it would?

  Elmer finally set her down, allowing Katie and Darlene to launch themselves at her. She ignored her screaming muscles and held on, coughing discreetly amid the abundance of hair spray as they hugged her. Darlene pulled back, smiling brightly. “What are you doing here?”

  Honey accepted a one-armed hug from Jay, followed by a ruffling of her hair. “My brother fought the tractor and the tractor won.”

  “Again?” Jay asked, pulling back. “That tractor is a menace. My mom used to tell me if I didn’t eat my greens, the Perribows’ tractor would come and get me while I slept.”

  Honey gave a lopsided smile. “Well, Teddy definitely had some green, but not the kind you eat.”

  “Good old Teddy.” Katie shook her head. “Ran into him in the supermarket last week. He was buying four boxes of Cocoa Crispies. Sweet as all get out, but high as a motherfucker.”

  “That’s my dear brother. I reckon that cereal didn’t last him the ride home.” Honey slid her Coke off the bar and took a sip through the straw. “I’m just here through the weekend helping out. My daddy has to get this crop into the ground before next week when the dirt gets hard and stops cooperating.”

  Elmer laid an arm across her shoulders. The most natural thing in the world, and yet it felt different. Too heavy. Too close. Like that arm was trying to suck her back in and she hadn’t decided wh
ether to be sucked yet. Damn. What was in that tequila? “Why didn’t you call me when you got into town? I could have come by and lent a hand.”

  Honey felt a pang of guilt over the hurt in Elmer’s voice. “Ah, you know that tractor. Only works for us Perribows.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But I’m here now. What are y’all up to tonight?”

  They all looked at each other. “This,” Darlene laughed. “This is what we’re up to.”

  “I—right.” Honey’s neck heated. Wednesday nights in Bloomfield were spent at Calhoun’s. It was a constant this crew never deviated from. They were all staring at her now like they were seeing her for the first time, probably wondering if she’d changed. If she’d forgotten. Hoping to recover by taking the focus off herself, she smiled at Katie. “I haven’t had a chance to say congratulations on your engagement. Have you set a date?”

  Katie held out her hand so Honey could see the ring. It was simple and beautiful. Big enough to catch an eye, small enough not to get in the way. Something like Honey might pick for herself. “We’re thinking next summer. Will you come on down and be a bridesmaid?”

  Honey’s throat felt tight. “Of course. Yes. I’d love to.”

  “It’s not going to be fancy or anything.” Katie and Darlene exchanged an excited look. “We drove to Lexington last weekend and picked out bridesmaids dresses. I wish we knew you were coming. Would have been one heck of a fun road trip.”

  Darlene rolled her eyes, but her smile was good-natured. “Maybe with two of us in the car, we could have convinced Katie to play something besides her worn-out Luke Bryan CD.”

  “You won’t hear me apologizing.” Katie nudged Jay with her elbow. “My future husband has given me a hall pass with Mr. Bryan’s name on it. A woman can dream.”

  Honey was distracted from Katie and Darlene’s friendly bickering when Elmer pulled her even closer. She could feel the group watching as he tipped her chin up with his fingers and smiled. “Hey. It feels right having you here. You know?” He was so close. Too close. As much as Honey loved Elmer, she knew now what it felt like to feel breathless and desperate over a man. Settling for anything less wouldn’t be fair to either her or Elmer. She needed to stop this before it got off the ground.

  “Elmer—”

  The bar’s front door slammed—loud—and they all jumped. Honey’s attention flew to the entrance, and everything stopped. Time. Her heart. Gravity.

  Ben.

  Here? No. No way. It had to be the lighting messing with her eyes. Or maybe something had really been in that tequila. Her brain could barely comprehend him in Calhoun’s, in her tiny Kentucky town of Bloomfield, but he looked so out of place that she knew it had to be him. Because no one else on earth looked at her like that. Like he wanted to pounce on her. Read and decipher her thoughts. Then blow the very mind that held them together.

  He wore a dress shirt as usual, white this time, and pushed up to reveal his strong forearms. His slacks were gray and travel-worn, wrinkled, but it didn’t take anything away from the straight-up sexiness of him. She managed to drag her gaze from his and found his hand, white-knuckled around the handle of a suitcase. That sealed the deal. This had to be Ben. And if he was here . . . he had to be here for her. Why else would be come?

  Too bad, though. Too bad, because all the pain rushed back in the longer they stood there, staring at each other. It gushed through her chest, knocking down dams and filling in cracks. She was suddenly so mad at him she wanted to throw her pint glass full of Coke at his head. For making her feel this way, for making her question herself. Her goals.

  “What do you want, Ben?”

  “For starters?” He actually had the nerve to look angry as he shoved his suitcase up against the wall, leaving it there as he came toward her. “I’d really like you not to have this guy’s arm around you.”

  OKAY, THIS WAS starting off swell.

  He’d shown up prepared to beg. In fact, he’d written it all down, neatly and concisely, in a notebook. Everything he wanted to say. He’d readied himself for the gamut of female emotions, according to Russell. Yes, Russell. Ben was that desperate. Tears, epithets, shouting. He’d come equipped for every possible scenario. And then he’d walked in and seen her cozied up to a guy who looked like he crushed Budweiser cans on his head for fun. The headache he’d managed to curb with the promise of seeing Honey had torn back through his skull like a rodeo bull. Someone was touching his fucking girl, and she looked so crazy pretty he couldn’t stand it. So, yeah. Sayonara notebook.

  Ben stopped in front of the beer can crusher. “Okay, look. I’m her least favorite person in the world right now. I’ve already got a mountain to dig myself out from under. We’re talking Everest. But if I have to bury myself a little deeper in order to get your hands off of her, I’ll do it.”

  Elmer puffed out his chest. “How do you plan to do that, bro?”

  Ben sent her a look. “Johnny Jerk Off and now this guy. I’m starting to think you have a type, Honey, of which I don’t fall within the boundaries.”

  “Who do you think you are, Ben?” Her eyes flashed, and God, he just needed to get right up in front of her and look into them until they calmed. Which wouldn’t be any time soon. “You think you can just walk in here and start giving orders? Maybe you forgot how things ended.”

  “No.” He stepped closer because he couldn’t help it. She was right there. “No, I didn’t forget. It’s all I can think about. And I’m getting to that part. Honey?”

  “What?”

  “His hands are still on you.”

  Right before his eyes, her temper flared hotter, like a glowing coal from a campfire. Behind her, two girls stood staring at him with their jaws dropped down to their ankles. The beer crusher’s head was swiveling back and forth, obviously confused by the scene playing out in front of him. “Who the hell is this guy, Honey?”

  All right, he was done answering questions. Ben took off his glasses and shoved them in his back pocket. “I’m the guy who just flew to Lexington and took three buses to get her back. I’m the guy who would have flown or ridden anywhere to get her back. I’m hungover, missing this girl, and now I’m pissed off on top of it. So you want to go outside and be the person I take out my frustration on? Let’s go.”

  Honey’s jaw joined the other girls’ on the floor, but it snapped shut when Elmer tried to go for him. Ben was ready for it, though. He’d always considered himself a pacifist, but at that moment, he wanted to hit something so bad his fists were already clenched and looking for a target. For too long, he’d kept everything contained inside him. Anger over the past had festered and ruined what Honey had tried to give him, and he was mad. Mad at himself. His preconceived notions. The blood in his veins heated with the need to release all the pent-up emotions.

  “No.” Honey stepped between him and beer can crusher, finally succeeding in dislodging his arm from around her shoulders, but now her hands were on the guy’s chest, holding him back. “Elmer, please. No fighting. I-I know him.” She cast a look at Ben over her shoulder. “Go outside and wait for me. I’ll be right out.”

  “Not moving an inch without you.”

  Elmer’s laugh was incredulous. “I can’t believe this guy.”

  “Yeah? Me either,” Honey said. “But he won’t hurt me. We’re just going to talk.”

  That comment sent Ben spiraling back to reality. The here and now. For the first time, he noticed the entire bar had gone deathly silent, no one moving, all their attention centered on the drama unfolding. These people didn’t know him from Adam, and his behavior since walking in the door hadn’t exactly inspired confidence. Had he actually given them cause to be concerned for Honey’s safety around him? Jesus Christ.

  Ben held up his hands. “I’m sorry. Let me start over.” He waited until Honey looked at him. “I’m guessing everyone here knows Honey pretty well, considering this town has one cab driver that knew exactly where to take me from the bus station to find her. So you know she’s worth
fighting for. I didn’t come here to employ the literal usage of that word, but—”

  “Who talks like that?” Elmer muttered.

  “An English professor,” Honey mouthed silently, eyes still shooting sparks at him.

  “—but you can blame Honey for that. She makes me do crazy things.”

  Okay, that might not have been the best thing to say. Even if, in a roundabout way, it was true. Since meeting her, every single thing he’d done had been out of character. He’d deep-sixed his rule book and started acting on instincts he hadn’t even been aware of. Ones he didn’t appear to have any control over, if his entrance was any indication.

  Honey really didn’t seem sympathetic to his predicament, however, as she rounded on him. At least she was finally facing him, no part of her touching Elmer, accomplishing a short-term, yet incredibly important, goal. “I don’t give a rat’s behind if you’re hungover or flew all this way to see me. No one asked you to come here, and I don’t owe you one minute of my time.”

  “I know,” he said. “Give it to me anyway, please.”

  For one brief, terrifying moment, he thought she’d say no. He really did. If she had, he would have come back and tried again tomorrow. But going another whole night without repairing even a fraction of the damage would have been unbearable. He needed to be with her. Talk to her. Now.

  “Did you really come here to fight for me?”

  She’d whispered the question, so he answered in kind. “You’re still in doubt after I called out every nightclub’s dream bouncer?” When she didn’t so much as smile, he figured serious was the way to go. “Yes. I’m here to fight. I’m bringing you back to New York with me.”

  For long moments, she just stared at him thoughtfully. Just when he was sure he couldn’t take any more suspense, she skirted past him and headed for the exit. “I’ll tell you one thing, Ben Dawson,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”