Montana Cherries (7 page)

Ben’s heated gaze on Dani’s mouth rendered her motionless. Except for pulling
her
attention down to
his
mouth. Was he going to kiss her?

Did she want him to?

Stupid question.

But valid point.

Kissing him was the last thing she needed. She had too many other issues on her mind. She still had no good leads for an apartment—that last one hadn’t worked out—she’d taken on a new project earlier today that she had zero time to devote to, and her brother’s marriage issues were getting worse.

Gabe and Michelle had been arguing more than usual lately, and neither seemed to care that the entire house was aware of it.

But darn it, she wanted to kiss Ben.

She licked her lips, her breath swirling hot between them, as she contemplated whether one tiny little kiss would hurt anything.

It wouldn’t.

She was certain of it.

Only . . . she flicked her gaze up to his and told herself the truth. It wouldn’t stop at one kiss. And she was leaving soon.

She didn’t want to risk confusing Haley. Or Jenna.

Or Ben.

Or
herself
.

So no kissing. That’s the way it had to be. Better safe than sorry.

Ben waited patiently, seemingly content to let her make the decision, and she knew what she had to do. She ignored the electricity snapping between them, slowly leaned back in her chair, and returned her focus to the picture that had captured her attention.

With Ben’s same eyes and sure posture, Dani could easily imagine Ben looking exactly like that in fifty years.

She tilted her head and studied the details. The New York landscape hanging at the front of the room was beautiful, but this photo made it obvious he had more of a knack for capturing people’s essence, even years ago. The man in the rocker had not only experienced life, he’d lived it. His sadnesses, joys, even the pain of aging, were all exposed in that one click of a shutter.

She squinted at the picture, then, as something occurred to her. From the looks of the rustic porch and the wide, blue skies, this photograph hadn’t been taken anywhere near LA.

“Didn’t you once tell me you didn’t see your grandfather after you went to live with your mom? And you moved to LA, when?” She glanced at him. “When you were five? Six?”

“Seven.” There was no heat in his tone. Certainly no indication that he’d just been thinking about kissing her.

His hand reached for the laptop.

“Wait,” she urged. She set the cup of tea down and rested her fingers over his. “You couldn’t have taken this picture when you were seven.”

One corner of his mouth moved as though tugged upward from an invisible string. “I can see why you were valedictorian of your high school class. Impressive deductive skills, Ms. Wilde.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“I didn’t hear a question.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. He reminded her of her brothers. Were all men experts at evading when they didn’t want to talk about something?

She slipped her fingers between his, holding his hand on top of the desk and her palm flush with his skin. “How often did you see him after you moved? You were probably what . . . fifteen, sixteen when this was taken? Did you spend time at the ranch that summer?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he looked away. The hand under hers twitched.

Finally, some of the steel in his spine melted, and she heard a hiss of air slip past his lips. “Sixteen. It was the only time I saw him alive after my mother bought a plane ticket and sent for me.”

Sent for him.

He’d once explained that meant she’d paid extra for a flight attendant to chaperone him from state to state. With her assistant waiting on the other side of the flight.

“Okay,” Dani said, intuitively knowing that she needed to step cautiously. But she
was
going to take that step. “It must have been something important you’d gone back for?”

Ten seconds clicked off until she was certain he had no intention of answering.

She loosened her grip, ready to admit defeat, but he surprised her by flipping his hand over and threading his fingers through hers. He squeezed tight.

“This was made about thirty minutes after putting my grandmother in the ground.”

“Ben—”

A short shake of his head cut off her words. “Grandma had suffered with Alzheimer’s my whole life, yet Grandpa never left her side. He loved her until the day she died, even though the last eight years of her life, from what he told me that day, she never once knew who he was.”

Dani studied the picture with a new light. Knowing the man in the photo had just buried the love of his life explained the look in the old man’s eyes. It had reeked of hurt before, but now it was almost unbearable. “That’s incredibly special, you know. Finding a love like that.”

It made her wonder about her own parents. Had they loved each other the same way?

Did her dad love Gloria like that?

Ben gave a simple nod. “I struggled with him letting me go when I was seven. No longer wanting me. But I understand now. He was seventy-two the day I left. My uncle had moved away, and I didn’t get that Grandpa couldn’t care for both a child and an adult by himself. Not when the adult needed more care than the child. And my mother never bothered explaining it. I was simply told one day that it was time I lived with my mom. I packed a bag, and Grandpa took me to the airport. I actually hated him when I left.”

Dani held her breath as she listened.

“When the call came that Grandma had passed, I bought a ticket, and was back in Montana by late that afternoon. Mom came out a couple of days later for the funeral, but only to make an appearance. She’d never been especially close to her parents, and a camera crew showed up with her. So . . .” Ben shook his head before picking the story back up. “Mom went from the funeral back to the airport, and I spent another week with Grandpa. He was so worn down from the years of caring for my grandmother, he barely had anything left.”

“I’m sure your being there meant a lot to him,” she spoke softly, and a few more pieces of Ben clicked into place. “You couldn’t resume your relationship at that point?”

A fleeting look of regret washed over his face. He released her hand, and clicked the picture closed. “He passed away three weeks after I returned to LA. I went back by myself to bury him beside Grandma.”

What strength he’d had as a teenager. She was impressed.

The look on his face said it was time to end the subject, but she couldn’t make herself get up and leave. She clasped her hands together in front of her, hurting for him. “Will you show me more pictures?”

Maybe that would take his mind off the family he’d once thought he didn’t have, only to find out later that it had merely been circumstances out of his control.

His fingers stilled on the computer, then tapped out a short staccato along the edge. Finally, he nodded.

“Okay.” With the single, gruff word, he relaxed back in his chair and reached for the mouse. He clicked and another picture filled the screen.

With a soft gasp, Dani leaned forward once again.

“This was a first-time mom,” he shared. “She’d been told she would never conceive.”

The picture was of a mother and child, the mother’s arms encircling the baby and her breast providing nourishment. Both had their eyes focused on Ben’s lens.

He couldn’t have portrayed nurturing and protection any better. Or so she thought.

As he clicked through picture after picture, one thing became clear. It wasn’t merely people Ben had a knack for, it was capturing a nurturing essence. There was the occasional beautiful landscape or close-up of inanimate objects, but when he turned his sights on people, the shots left her breathless.

“I’m sure you’ve been told this numerous times, but you have a beautiful skill.”

“Beautiful?” Ben tapped her on the nose. “You romanticize things, babe.”

She shifted in her chair and faced him straight on, then pointed to the photo on the screen. “Tell me that isn’t beautiful.” And she most certainly did not romanticize things.

He shrugged. “It’s a good one.”

“Has it ever won an award?”

“I don’t win awards for photos that no one sees.” He shot her a look. “No one except you. And the mom in that first shot. I gave her that as a gift.”

He didn’t share these with other people?

The idea of getting a private peek into this side of his work—his personal collection—gave her a thrill. But surely she wasn’t the only one who’d seen them. His talent deserved to be showcased. She studied the photo again. “What about the others?” she asked. “Has anyone seen those?”

“Most are just shots I’ve made in my downtime.”

“You’ve got to do something with them. They’re too good not to share.”

He grew silent and clicked back through several of the pictures they’d already viewed. “I’m considering compiling a book,” he grudgingly admitted.

“Yes.” That idea was brilliant. There was no doubt, with his notoriety and skill, all he’d have to do was announce he wanted to publish and he’d be snapped up in an instant.

“I can’t figure out how they all fit together, though. I’ve got some good landscapes.” He grew silent once more as he continued looking through the photos. “I’ve sold a few of those over the years. They seem popular.”

“No.” She returned her hand to lie on top of his harder one. The skin was rougher than hers and she fought the urge to trace her fingers over each dip and rise. “You’ve got to use these. The ones of people.”

She stopped before saying
the nurturing ones
. She wasn’t sure he had any idea that was inside him. He’d always told her he was like his mother. Of course, the way he’d taken Haley in proved otherwise. But Dani was somehow certain he’d rebuff the idea if she pointed it out. He was just getting used to being a dad. He didn’t need her highlighting the fact that he was already a softie.

Realizing she once again had moved too close, and that her gaze had returned to his mouth, she removed her hand and stood. “Thank you for sharing these with me.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I thought I would, yes.” She wouldn’t have believed such a lost tone could come from him if she hadn’t just heard it. “I have a few things to do before turning in.”

“Oh.” He nodded and motioned to the computer, ignoring her words and looking as alone as he’d just sounded. “You really think the people, then?”

“I definitely think the people.” She slowly lowered back down. “They show a side of you that’s not always obvious,” she explained. “A very good side.”

A hint of color painted his cheeks and she couldn’t help but smile. “Are you blushing?”

“I’m sure I’m not.” He didn’t look at her.

The man clearly didn’t accept compliments easily. Although . . .

She studied him now, and thought about the stories she’d read about him over the years. Women fawned over him all the time. That had to be complimentary. And she doubted he blushed each and every time it happened.

So it must be that these photographs meant something more. Something personal. And he’d shared them with her.

She liked that.

Nudging his shoulder with hers, she looked back at the computer. “Now that you’ve kept me here, got any more I could see?”

Chuckling under his breath, he began scrolling through the folders on the drive. His voice, when he spoke, had lightened considerably. “Maybe I wanted you to stay for a whole other reason.”

Whoa.
She rose once again. “You are a flirt, Ben Denton. And a tease.”

His eyes followed her movements. “And if I’m not teasing?”

The space in the room seemed to be sucked right out until all she could focus on was each individual breath coming from Ben and her own pounding heart. She edged toward the door. “I think keeping it at teasing would be best,” she said.

“Best for who?”

“Ben.” The single word was all that came out.

He stood from the chair and crossed the room then, and when he reached her, he tilted her face up to his. Barely inches separated them, but he didn’t cross the line.

“I want to kiss you, Dani. I’ll put it out there and let you deal with it. I probably
shouldn
’
t
want to kiss you, I know that. I’m here in your house, accepting your hospitality. I shouldn’t want more. Especially considering what I took the
last
time I was here. But I do. It’s that simple. I want to kiss you.”

“Or that complex,” she suggested.

“Does it have to be?”

His green gaze roamed over her face as she digested the question. Did it have to be? They could kiss. They could have sex.

They could have a really fun few weeks.

But there was something about Ben that was different than the other men she’d been with. And it frightened her. It made her scared for her dreams.

It warned her to keep her distance.

“I actually came in here to remind you about the Cherry Festival this weekend,” she said instead of answering. Best to keep things as they were. Not to mention, she didn’t want to simply be his “downtime.” He’d been with plenty of women over the years, and no doubt had far better options at that very moment than her. This was boredom on his part, plain and simple. And that was insulting.

His hand lowered to his side. “Gabe mentioned it,” he said. “The whole family is going?”

Dani nodded. With so many orchards in the area, practically everyone in the community turned out for the festival. The event represented their whole town. “The twins should be in Saturday morning. Hopefully Jaden will make it before the day’s over.”

“Cord’s not coming home?”

Though the unspoken rule was that everyone came home for harvest—
which, depending upon the weather, usually kicked off within
days of the cherry festival—that rule had been shaken lately. Nate, one
of the twins, hadn’t been home in a few years, and Cord, who was one
year younger than Gabe, was sporadic. “He’s a doctor in Billings now,”
she told Ben. “As far as I know, he’ll be here before harvest is over, but
his time is more limited. He won’t make it in for the festival, for sure.”