“You’re pretty confident nowadays.” The words spilled out before I could stop them.
“I am.”
In the next second, he was thoroughly kissing me. His lips parted and my tongue entered his mouth. We’d already had a perfect evening, and if I wasn’t careful, he’d be inside me again and I’d be spending the night.
Ben was the one to finally break the kiss. Slapping my butt, he said, “Let’s get you home.”
Tucked into his Jeep, the world totally dark around us, I saw the clock flashing a few minutes after eleven on the dash. “I’m sorry you have to drive me all the way back to Colebury. Another difference between here and the city. There I could get an Uber or taxi or town car.”
Ben kept his focus on the road, but mumbled, “Whatever your fancy, right at your fingertips, huh.”
I wasn’t sure what his tone was laced with. Resentment? Jealousy? Or was it envy?
“You know, I’ve never spent the night at anyone’s place. Yours was the first I ever considered . . . staying all night.”
Not taking his eyes from the road, he said, “Murphy, you’re thirty-two years old. That’s not believable.”
“My mom would’ve had a fit if I were spotted coming out of someone’s place in the morning or vice versa, so I never did it. The thought of disgracing her was my worst fear for most of my life. And then I did exactly that.”
Glancing at me, he asked, “Were you happy then?”
Swallowing my pride, I gave him the truth. “No. I had this dream job and a fabulous apartment and all the salon appointments in the world, but no.”
“Are you happy now?”
His words took me by surprise. So blunt and to the point, but exactly what I needed to hear.
“I think so,” I said slowly. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, there you go.”
Ben reached over to turn on some music and began humming along to Dave Matthews Band.
“No classical?” I teased.
“Not this time of night. I need to get you home in one piece and myself back home the same way I left.”
“Sorry again about this.”
“Let’s make a deal—no more apologies. I do this drive all the time. Montpelier to Colebury, then back and forth again. Brenna likes the area for her and Branson. I’d like her closer to me, up by my parents’ place too, but she’s stubborn. It’s how I started popping into the Bean. Not like we don’t have coffee by me or at the hospital, but I like the vibe at the Bean. Zara’s good people. So, how did we get on this? Oh, right. No more apologies.”
“Done.” I agreed before he was barely finished talking. I’d never been so jumpy, interrupting every few seconds, but I wanted what he promised.
“Maybe I should’ve gotten one of those industrial lofts over by the Bean,” he said, “but Brenna talked me into the house. Now I do the drive.”
“I’m lucky I learned how to drive. Most kids in the city don’t learn. They don’t need to,” I told him. “Of course, we spent the summers in the Hamptons, and I learned there. I was so desperate to learn that my parents gave in to me. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. They hired someone to teach me. They didn’t bother themselves with it.”
“I think I recall hearing about this at Pressman. You were asking me about driving in the snow, saying you’d never done that. Did you ever get a chance?”
Heat crept up my cheeks. “No.”
“And you’re living in Vermont now? You’re going to get a chance sooner than you think.”
On that, we pulled up in front of my place.
“I guess, but not for long—” I cut myself off before saying anything more.
“Huh? What’s that all about?”
“Nothing. Honestly, I’m tired is all.” I brushed at my eye, willing the tears to stay put.
Vermont was where people put down roots. Look at Ben with his family loyalty and relationships with all the small business owners. That wasn’t me. I knew absolutely nothing about roots or long-term connections.
Ben opened the passenger side door and escorted me to my front door.
“Night, Murph.” He pulled me in and pressed his lips to mine. “Hope to see you before it snows,” he joked.
“It had better not snow here in July.”
I opened my door and slipped inside, watching through a small crack in the door as Ben walked back to his car.
“It will snow a few times before I leave,” I whispered to myself as I closed the door.
21
Murphy
“Murphy?”
I turned around to find a shorter woman with a blond topknot on top of her head, staring at me from across the coffee bar.
“Never mind,” she said without giving me a chance to respond. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I asked. I know you are. I’m Gigi, by the way.”
It was Wednesday afternoon. My head was somewhat in the clouds, half dreaming of my date the night before, half panicking over what it all meant when it came to Ben. And me. And the future.
“Hunnie’s been talking up a storm about you,” Gigi said, “and honestly, I was getting jealous. She’s got her act together, and it’s hard not to be envious, and then she plucks you out of the sky to help her get even better.”
I finished making the latte I’d been working on when Gigi first interrupted me and set it on the bar while she rambled away.
“Anyway, I’m sorry to barge in on you here, and I know you’re busy. I’m shocked you can do all that without burning yourself or making the wrong drink. Kirk was a master of that, listening and making lattes at the same time.”
Wiping my hands down the front of my pink apron—no longer impressed it was designer since I was all about function these days—I finally spoke. “It’s taken me a while, but I think I have it down now. By the way, I am Murphy.” I felt the need to clarify her
