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“We need to lay some ground rules if we’re going to continue this…this affair.”
He stopped and turned, his eyebrows hitching up at my clinical delivery. “Ground rules? Umm. Okay. How do you usually conduct these things?” he asked with a shade of sarcasm just this side of anger.
“I don’t usually conduct anything, as you well know, but I think we need to draw some clear boundaries.”
“I’m all ears.” He released my hand and raked his hair back off his face.
“First of all…the alcohol and the painkillers. It scares me.”
He looked pensive. “I’ve been thinking about that. The drinking isn’t a problem. I don’t know about the oxy…maybe with your help…” His voice trailed off, his expression turned cautious. I couldn’t see the beautiful mask anymore, the ruse that everyone else saw when they looked at him. All I could see was the uncertainty in his eyes. Had anybody ever been there for him?
“Of course, I’ll help. All I ask is that you try.” There was a flash of something amazed in his eyes before he hid it. He hadn’t taken anything for granted. “Second, I want this to remain private, between us. I don’t want anybody at the house to ever know.” His brow pinched. Clearly, he wasn’t in agreement so I continued before he worked up an argument. “I have a ridiculous amount of respect for Mrs. Arnaud. I don’t know where I’d be without her kindness, and I would be mortified if she knew.”
“Marianne is an extremely understanding person.”
“I don’t want her to know,” I interrupted, my voice rising. I wrapped my arms around myself, holding down a nervous tremor.
“Okay, easy. We’ll keep it between us, for now.”
“All we have is now. I didn’t expect this to happen, but it has. This is about you and me––now. No past and no future.”
He stared out towards the house, brooding. When his eyes returned to me, they were apprehensive again. “So this is about sex. Is that what you want?”
Stay strong. I braced myself, even though my stomach clenched painfully at the wounded look on his face. “Yes. And when it’s over, when you’re ready to move on, we won’t ever speak of it again.” My voice sounded hollow, disembodied. My short fingernails dug into my palms.
“How do you know I’ll be the one to walk away?” Bitterness underscored his words. He would run, not walk, if he ever found out about my past.
“You will,” I answered, as I began walking away.
* * *
“All I need is six more eggs. Just cooperate and I won’t bother you again for a couple of days.” I reached under one of the hens tentatively––she wasn’t having any of it. “Ouch! That’s the third time. I’m warning you!”
“If you want to get under their skirts, darlin’, you gotta sweet talk’ um. Not threaten’ um.”
My back snapped straight and my head whipped around. Ben Winters stood outside the gate in long shorts that reached his knees and a sweat soaked, white t-shirt that molded itself to the bulges of his chest so indecently I had to force myself to look at his face.
“Good morning, Mr. Winters, out for a nice jog?”
“Yes, ma’am. Need some help?”
“Are you a hen expert, Mr. Winters?”
His eyebrow hitched up and his lips curved into a devilish smile. “No…but I know something about getting under skirts.” His shameless smirk made me burst out in laughter. Lady-killer.
“Be my guest.”
He entered the large pen that housed the exotic chickens and handed me his iPhone. “Call me Ben, please.”
“Your accent––I had no idea Americans really spoke that way until I started working for Mr. Horn.” He glanced at me sideways with an amused expression. I got the distinct impression he knew more about my relationship with Sebastian than I wanted him to.
“Not Americans, Texans.” Circling the chicken coop, he studied the hens from different angles.
“I think you have to just go for it,” I encouraged.
He stood with his hands on his hips and his eyes on the hens, his brow creasing thoughtfully. “Sebastian’s pretty much lost most of it.”
“You’ve known each other a long time?”
“We’ve been best friends since the fourth grade.” Gingerly, he tried to sneak his hand under the hen. She pecked him before he had a chance to remove it. “Ouch.”
I bit back a laugh. “Too slow, Ben, too slow. She’s deadly quick.”
“I didn’t exactly look like this in the fourth grade.”
“You don’t say.”
“Na, I was real skinny. Malnourished. I had a tough upbringing.” My face fell when I realized he was no longer kidding. “One day, after school, a bunch of older boys started picking on me. Beat me up real good until Sebastian stepped in and set them straight. I think one kid lost a tooth…then he took me home with him. I lived there for two months before anyone figured it out.”
