Gift From The Bad Boy

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know what there is to tell. We just used to cook and stuff, that’s all.”

“Did she look like you?”

I thought back. It had been a while since I’d seen a picture of her. When she died, my father had gotten rid of every single photograph with her in it. I’d asked him about it, and he’d just shrugged and told me we couldn’t hold onto the past. All I had to go on were my memories. “Yeah, she did,” I answered. “I mean, I looked like her, I guess. Since, you know, she came first.”

“That is how these things work, yes.”

“Thanks, smartass. But yeah, she’s where I got my hair. She had this beautiful blonde hair, all the way down to her waist. She used to sit on the edge of her bed every morning and take forever to comb it all out. I remember she used to let me help her when I was little.”

“That’s nice.”

“It was. We used to do a lot of little things like that together. Church, the hair thing. Just mother-daughter stuff, you know.”

“Yeah, same,” he said with a straight face.

“Oh, I’m sure. You must look great with pigtails.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.”

I laughed again, then fell silent, staring down at my plate. I felt Ben’s eyes on me.

“You’re chewing your nails,” he commented.

“Dammit,” I cursed as I dropped my hand into my lap. I hated having such a bad tell. He barely knew me and yet it was already obvious to him when I had something on my mind. I couldn’t get over my conversation with Jay today, both the part where he’d said Ben was the best man he knew, and his refusal to tell me anything about the hatred between my father and my now-husband.

Ben tilted his head to the side and gave me a questioning look, waiting for me to ask him about what I was thinking.

I hesitated, but there was no time like the present. Might as well see how far this rabbit hole goes. “I was talking to Jay today…”

“Always a dangerous activity.”

“…and I asked him something, but he told me it wasn’t something I should be concerned with, and that if I really wanted to pry, I needed to ask you instead. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

Ben set his fork down on the edge of his plate. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and a shadow passed over his eyes. “Go on,” he said quietly.

“What is it that caused so much bad blood between you and my dad? I mean, I don’t know a single detail, but it’s so obvious that you hate each other. What happened?”

He stewed for a moment. “Jay was right. You shouldn’t be concerned with that.”

“But it’s my father! It’s the whole reason I’m in this situation! Right?”

“I have no idea what your father’s reasoning was. I just know he gave me a choice, and I did what I had to do.”

“There’s more to it; I know there is. I’m not stupid.”

“No,” he said, “clearly not. But I’m not talking about it. It doesn’t matter right now.”

“Is it about my mother?” I asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“I said I’m not talking about it, Carmen. That’s the end of it.”

“But—”

“No.” He slammed a fist onto the table, making all the plates jitter.

I wilted immediately, shrinking back in my seat. The joking twinkle had disappeared from his eyes. He looked stormy, furious. I understood immediately why he was a leader of the men he rode with. There was not a chance in hell that anyone could stare him in the face and cross him. I didn’t know what to make of him. He was part warrior, part caveman, part ferocious, snarling beast. Any thought I had of pressing further evaporated instantly when he hit the table.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

The clouds slowly drained away from his face. A moment later, they were gone, and I wasn’t even sure what I’d seen in the first place. He looked like the same man he had been when we’d first sat down to eat, all calm and languid. But my heart was still pounding fast in my chest.

We ate silently, but I wasn’t doing much more than chewing tiny bits of food to death before unwillingly swallowing. I waited with my hands folded in my lap until Ben had finished. Then I stood up, chair scraping against the floor, and began gathering dishes to take to the kitchen for washing.

Ben sat rock still while I cleared the table. His arms were still crossed over his chest and he was staring into empty space with a blank expression. When I came to take his plate, he jolted back to life and looked up at me.

“I can take that,” he said. His hand closed over mine. I paused for a moment, not meeting his eyes, then relinquished it to him. He stood, stacked the remaining dishes on top of his, and brought them over to the sink.