I didn’t give her a chance to answer. Pressing my mouth to hers, I gave in to my urge to kiss Murphy. I didn’t care that we were in a parking lot, or that Mildred was probably watching from the window. Anyone from the hospital could run over here to pick up a takeout order.
I. Did. Not. Care.
Her lips were soft and a small moan escaped them, giving my tongue entrance. I kept it PG-13, only lightly caressing her tongue before moving back to closed mouth.
I’d waited to do this for so long—almost forgetting over the last few years how much I’d been into Murphy back at prep school. Since then, I’d busied myself in work and other projects, trying to be a deserving man. I’d never wanted a spoiled woman, though. I couldn’t afford a high-maintenance woman’s wants or demands back then, and had no desire to do it now.
At this moment, though, my mind was in overdrive as I continued to make love to Murphy’s mouth. My heart beat at a frantic pace at the possibilities, and then the skies opened up, rain pummeling us for the second time that day.
Quickly pulling away, Murphy ran for the car, trying to cover her hair with her purse. “My hair doesn’t get a break here,” she mumbled to herself as we slipped into the car, our wet thighs sticking to the leather.
Blinking hard, I froze. Her comment was like a knife to the heart.
I guess she’s the same old Murphy. We just kissed like two long-lost lovers, and all she can worry about is frizzy hair?
8
Murphy
“Well, thanks,” I said as we sat in Ben’s Jeep, outside the crappy duplex where I lived. He didn’t offer to walk me in. The closeness I’d felt earlier between us was gone.
“It was fun to catch up,” he said, his tone a little curt.
I told myself to open the door and get out. Old Murphy would have given him a megawatt smile and thanked Ben profusely, then primly got out of the car. But this was a version of myself I didn’t know. Jean shorts, sans makeup, finishing up a date at the diner for pancakes for dinner.
“Is there something wrong? I feel like the air around us has changed. Did I do something?” The words fell from my mouth faster than I could control them.
“Everything’s cool,” Ben said, refusing to make eye contact.
Glancing at my place, I asked, “Is it where I live?”
Now that got his attention.
His head swung my way, and his eyes narrowed on me. “Seriously, that’s what you think? I know we haven’t seen each other in years, but you knew me when I had nothing. Do you think I’ve changed that much? That I would judge someone for where they live?”
Taken aback at the rage rolling off him, I said warily, “You did say earlier you were judging how I lived now.”
His blue eyes darkened, and his mouth went tight. I recognized that look. Ben was pissed. I remembered back at the after-prom party when Burnett accused him of settling for his sloppy seconds, and Ben lost it. His face had gone tight, and it took Scott Stephens’s steely strength to hold Ben back from punching Burnett.
“Because this is not how I knew you,” he said sharply. “Jesus, we keep going in circles. You’re not how I remember, and when I ask why, you avoid the question. I think there’s something there, more than could have been between us in high school. Besides the fact that we were just kids, we were from two different worlds.”
He shifted toward me in his seat and stared me down, his sexy five o’clock shadow momentarily distracting me.
“Did you hear me?” he demanded. “I thought maybe you were here in Vermont as a sign, like it was our turn to be together. And then you go and talk about your hair.”
“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
“The fucking rain.”
I glanced out the windshield. The rain had stopped again, but it had really poured when we were kissing. “What about the rain?”
“All you could say was your hair was getting frizzy, Murph. We’d just shared what I thought was an epic kiss, and you were worried about your hair.”
“Oh. I guess old habits die hard.”
He slammed the steering wheel. “Don’t do that. You’re better than that. You pulled the same shit at Pressman. Oh, Miffy will be mad if I don’t get dressed up for her birthday party, or I can’t go to the hockey game with you because I have to go with my friends. Crazy thing was, I thought we were friends.”
He swallowed hard, and I followed the movement of his Adam’s apple and watched the rise and fall of his chest.
“You know what?” he said with a scowl. “Let it go. This is on me.”
“Ben . . .” I reached out and touched his forearm. It was so strong, and I couldn’t help but think of him playing football or working hard at his farm. I’d never seen the latter, but in my imagination, he was shirtless and surrounded by hay bales. “We were friends.”
“Whatever. We were, and we weren’t. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. We were. And I thought the kiss was epic, but I don’t think it’s the best time for me to get involved with anyone. I’m working through a lot of stuff, and clearly, I have a long way to go. I’m truly sorry I hurt you. You make me want to get involved, make me want things I didn’t know existed for people like me.” Begrudgingly, I released my grip on his arm.
Ben turned away to stare out the windshield. “Thanks, but let’s just forget it all happened. It’s been nice reconnecting and all that, but let’s keep this at old friends, okay? It’s for the best. I have a lot going on too.”
In that instant,
