That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (12 page)

The next morning, I wake up earlier than usual. Archer has been fussy in his sleep, waking up frequently, crying, and pulling his ears. I guess his teeth are definitely on the way. I feel bad for him, but in the back of my mind I can hear my boobs rejoice.

I’m in the kitchen making breakfast while Archer is in his playpen in the living room happily chewing on an eco-chewing ring. Thankfully, I live in a house with other hippies, so the baby shower gifts, or any gifts in between, were all eco-friendly and healthy. The open-plan kitchen allows me to keep an eye on him.

While cooking, I listen to music on my phone that I connected to the speaker we have in the kitchen. There is just something homey and comforting about dancing and singing while you cook. When “Panther Dance” by ThePETEBOX comes on, I can’t help but shake my ass to the rhythm of it. Some songs just make you want to get naughty. It’s not necessarily the lyrics, but the voice and the beat that make me swing my hips seductively, especially knowing I’m alone in the kitchen. That is until suddenly I feel hands on my hips and a hard body behind me. I’m so startled I yelp.

“Geez, are you trying to kill me?”

“No, if I wanted to kill you I would ask you to run a mile with me,” Ben answers with a hoarse, yet amused voice.

I want to turn around and smack him, but he starts moving along to the music like I was doing a moment ago, swaying his hips and inviting mine to move along. I can’t help it. Honestly, I don’t want to help it. It feels too good, and I know I’m about five seconds from panting. Before I manage to make a fool out of myself, or pounce on him and climb him like a tree, ignoring all my good intentions, the song ends and a more upbeat number comes on. Season To Attack’s “Just Let Me” is faster, but not any less sexy. The lyrics are actually quite dirty.

Though our little dance has ended, Ben doesn’t move away but keeps me caged between his arms, while I try to concentrate on cooking. Feeling him this close short-circuits my brain cells; coherent thoughts aren’t possible.

“You’ve got good taste in music. Seems like hanging out with me and Dave for years rubbed off on you.”

I’d like to give him a witty retort, but it’s true. Ben and my brother were very crucial to the development of my music taste.

“Are we going to stay like this?” I turn my head slightly to look up at Ben and notice desire, lust, and the cockiness I like so much in his look.

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it as much as I do.”

And boy, does he enjoy it. I can feel the evidence of his enjoyment poking into my backside.

I gulp, not knowing what to say. The truth would be to admit that I, in fact, do enjoy him being this close. That I do want to feel him, to touch him, to taste him. And more than anything, I want him to tell me it’s more than just infatuation or physical attraction. But I can’t. I’m too scared of what it might do to my heart.

So I don’t say anything, and I don’t need to because bending over so his lips are touching my ear, he sings along with the music.

“You don’t know just how hard you’d come,

So I hope that I can one day show you

How I’d make you a most willing victim

and still I’d be the hero that would always come through

All of these thoughts impure or not—you would never feel this hot again.”

And I feel like I’m about to come right then and there. I can’t help but to whimper his name when he presses his body closer to mine.

“Umm....I don’t mean to interrupt your courtship rituals, but the mushrooms are burning.” Viv grins at us, her eyebrows raised, and an amused glint in her eyes.

We jump at Viv’s voice, only then realizing that the mushrooms right in front of us really have turned into little black pieces that resemble coal more than they resemble food. I couldn’t care less though. My body feels like it’s on fire. I’m wound tighter than a guitar string and damn, do I wish he would play with my body. I’m not sure if I’m thankful to Viv or not.

“Sorry, not sorry.” He smiles at Viv. “You’ll just have to eat your sandwiches without fried mushrooms.”

“What’s going on?” Dean and Alex ask in unison as they enter the kitchen.

“Oh, those two nearly fucked in the kitchen. Ten minutes later and the house would have been on fire; along with her panties.” Viv does her best impression of a gossip girl, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, while looking back and forth between Ben and me, a mischievous smile on her lips.

I just glare at Viv, wondering if I would manage to beat her to death with the pan filled with mushrooms.

“I wish you guys would get it over with. The sexual and emotional tension is tangible. One of us is going to choke on it sooner or later,” Alex says matter-of-factly, while getting himself an orange juice out of the fridge.

“Okay, can we stop talking about my panties or us fucking, please?!?”

And just like in every bad movie, that’s Mrs. Walsh cue to walk in.

“Who’s fucking?”

I groan, while Ben chuckles.

“Those two were about to…in the kitchen. Where we prepare our food. And eat it.” Dean tries to wind me up. And damn, if he isn’t succeeding.

“How about everyone bites me? And bites me hard.” I flip them the bird and retreat to the living room, picking Archer up from his play pen.

“You’re not mean to your momma, are you? You’re a sweet, nice boy.” I cuddle him, making sure to not irritate his ears. He seems fairly peaceful after last night.

“Why in the world is our son wearing an anklet?” Ben appears next to me, tugging at the jewelry around Archer’s foot. He’s giving me a skeptical look.

“It’s an amber anklet. It’s meant to ease the pain of teething. He was fussy last night. Waking up crying, pulling his ears. He’s teething.”

“I thought I heard some noise last night, but didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You know, you can look after him anytime you want. Not like I’m having orgies in my room.” I crack a smile at him, right before I realize I managed to get our conversation into the gutter, again.

I start stuttering, “I mean, you can check on him or be with him anytime you want.”

Thankfully, he seems to be in a sympathetic mood and doesn’t tease me about my room and orgies. I‘m extremely grateful, still feeling the blush creep into my cheeks thinking about us earlier in the kitchen. I seriously need to do something about giving back control to my brain, and not my vagina. I think it might be time to get my trustworthy battery-operated boyfriend out of the drawer. Maybe then my brain will start functioning again.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He smiles, but then returns his attention to our son. “So this anklet is supposed to help his teeth how?”

“It’s said that it releases succinic acid due to his body heat, which then decreases the pain.”

He just keeps giving me this skeptical look. “Uh huh.”

“No really. Many people swear it works.”

“Some people also drink their own piss because they believe it’s healthy.”

I huff. “It’s not the same thing. It can’t hurt. And if it makes it easier on him, even better.”

“Is that also why our son smells like my great-aunt Betty?” He says with a crooked grin, while taking Archer out of my arms and sniffing him. I plop down on the couch in exasperation and frustration.

“Stop being such an ignorant ass. It’s a rub with lavender and chamomile essential oils. It helps with the pain and soothes the baby.”

“It doesn’t soothe him. He just lost his will to live, smelling like an old, crazy, cat lady.”

“Essential oils have healing properties. It’s called aromatherapy. It has no side effects if used properly. It’s good for many ailments and issues. And it’s not a chemical bomb that we drop on our child every time he has an ache. Dammit.” My voice gets louder, as I try to make him understand why I choose those natural remedies for Archer. I can’t help getting defensive when it comes to this—not after all the fights I already had with my mom about it.

“You’re such a hippie,” Ben smiles at me.

In a whiff of childishness, I poke out my tongue at him. “And you love it.”

As soon as those words leave my mouth, I want to bite my tongue off. No, I really do. It’s a traitor. Harmless banter doesn’t work between us. Every other sentence is too loaded with pent up feelings, suppressed emotions, and uncertainty about how the other is feeling. What would be fun and games with Dean, Alex...hell, even Vince, feels like a minefield with Ben.

“I actually do.”

For a second my heart stops when I hear his words. Did he just say he loves me? Loves me being a hippie? God, I can’t deal with this constant mindfuck much longer. I wonder if this is how some of the patients feel that we discuss in our classes.

“I love how you take care of Archer. How much thought you put into making sure he has the healthiest and best of everything.”

Oh, okay. So I guess he doesn’t love me. This isn’t awkward at all.

“Hey, how about I take Archer into town? That way you can study, and I can buy some supplies for the house. And I need some stuff for next week. Mrs. Walsh is pimping me out to her friends.”

“Sorry?” I blink at him. “I mean, yeah, she said you’re good with your hands, but that goes a bit far, doesn’t it?”

“Smartass. Apparently old people need a lot of things repaired or restored. And since—as you pointed out—I’m good with my hands,” he gives me a complacent look, “she told them about me and they are demanding my services.”

“Okay, this talk about you servicing old people is getting a bit out of hand. So you want to take our son to a hardware store to make up for the Aunt Betty smell and jewelry?”

“Pretty much,” he grins at me before he heads upstairs with Archer.

“Take my car!” I shout after him before I slump into the couch, hoping it can just swallow me so I stop to think, and feel, and all that fun stuff.

An hour later, I have the house to myself. Ben is on the go with Archer; Dean and Alex went to visit some friends, and Viv is getting a new tattoo, although I’m wondering where she still has room for any on her body. I take my books into the sunroom, flop down on the pillows, and start reading about mental illnesses, wondering every other page if I’m currently exhibiting some symptoms, because I’ve never felt this confused. Not even as a teenager with raging hormones and a biker boyfriend.

After about two hours of reading, with my concentration not really up to par, I decide to turn on some music and chill. I put on Rocco DeLuca & The Burden and lay back on the yoga pillows, close my eyes and enjoy the music. The restless night must have exhausted me more than I thought. Or maybe it was the past ten days crammed with enough new experiences, thoughts, and emotions to last for months. Whatever the reason, I must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I know is a hand gently caressing my cheek. I open my eyes to find Ben crouched beside me, while Archer is crawling around on the yoga pillows. It’s like a parkour course for him.

“Hey, babe.” Ben helps me sit up. “You’ve been out cold.”

“It’s been a few exhausting days,” I say with a smile, trying hard to ignore the onslaught of emotions I feel right now.
Oh my God, he just called me babe. He didn’t call me Frankie. He called me babe. For the first time. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. It would be really inconvenient to die now. And stop being such a fucking girl.
I attempt to keep my expression even and not let him see the effect this single word, or the way he said it, has on me. It felt like a caress, gentle and sweet. The butterflies in my stomach seem to have multiplied.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hey, I got something for you...well, for us, when I was in town.”

I look up at him quizzically, ignoring the little happy dance my insides seem to be doing because he got something for “us.”
I’m a lost cause.

He hands me a little paper bag that has little baby ducks all over it. It’s sealed with a sticker from one of Northampton’s cute baby stores. I’ve been in there often, as they cater to the eco-friendly crowd. I open it and find an oval shaped pendant on it, in a beautiful olive green color. It reminds me of a peridot, which is one of my favorite crystals. The pendant hangs on a black leather cord.

“It’s gorgeous, but what is it?”

“It’s teething jewelry for the parents. You can basically wear it like normal jewelry and Archer can play with it, chew on it. It works like a teething ring.”

I can’t help getting emotional. This is so sweet and beautifully hippie of him. He put thought into it and got something not only for Archer, but for me as well. Something he knew would mean a lot to me.

“You can even put this homeopathic teething gel on it.” He pulls out a box containing the gel he just mentioned. Natural, homeopathic, and no side-effects. I beam up at him.

“Thank you. This is really sweet. Wow...I’m...thank you.”

When he smiles at me, I can see the satisfaction over my excitement etched into his features. His eyes have that gleam. For once not overthinking it, I lean over and give him a peck on the cheek before leaning back again.

We’re looking at each other for a moment and it feels okay. It feels peaceful—like this should be our natural state with each other.

“You’re welcome. I got myself one too, obviously more manly.” He growls the last part, which makes me laugh and causes Archer to turn around and give Ben a look that only babies can pull off.

He pulls out a cord with a grey pendant in the shape of dog tags.

“If my son can wear jewelry, so can I.”

“You’re not going to growl that sentence? Beat your chest?” I give him my most innocent grin.

“Haha. You’re funny,” he says, trying hard to look serious, despite the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“But seriously, Ben, thanks. This was really thoughtful of you. I have a feeling that you question it sometimes, and it’s natural to do so, but you’re a good dad. It’s in your nature.”

He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. Getting up, he stretches his hand out to help me up and I take it.

“Let’s get the little troublemaker ready for bed.” He goes to grab Archer and starts throwing him in the air. Thankfully not too far up. My faint mama bear heart might otherwise stop beating. Archer is laughing and having fun. Forgotten are his teething troubles for the moment, while we get him ready for bed. Like a picture-book family. With one small difference—we aren’t a family.

When Archer has fallen asleep—faster than we expected—we join Dean and Alex in the living room. They’ve just come back from their friends’, and we all decide to chill for the rest of the night, watching reruns of
Golden Girls
, enjoying each other’s company and having fun laughing together, being all cozy and warm while a cold wind is rustling the leaves in our yard, making them chase one another in a never-ending cycle.

I’m sitting next to Ben, our thighs touching. I feel content, even happy. Until his phone starts to buzz and he hurries out of the room to take the call, leaving me to wonder whose phone calls he’s trying to hide.