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But maybe this time, I’ll push the issue. I’m sick of this hanging over my head. Sick of not being able to find the son of a bitch.
I get to Ben’s a little past 6:00. He has a modest stucco ranch in the Foothills Terrace community of Phoenix. I’m nervous. More nervous than I want to be.
I check my lipstick before getting out of my car and walking to the front door, taking in his mostly gravel front yard with one giant Saguaro cactus that must be at least twelve feet tall dominating the area. His doorbell is a Metallica song and I can hear it blaring through the walls. I laugh and shake my head. The second he opens the door and I get a good look at his body, his face, his fuckingeyes, all those promises I made to keep things casual, of taking things slowly, melt away.
“What’s up?” He smiles, gestures for me to enter.
“Not much. I like your doorbell.”
“Gift from my sister. It was either that or the theme song to Nutcracker.”
“Sounds brutal,” I joke.
“I know, right? Such a violent title for such a beautiful song.”
“Totally.”
He leads me to the kitchen and the cooking smells fill my nose. Cumin, chili powder, and all the usual spices. “Did you bring your appetite?”
I rub my tummy. “I did. Smells awesome.”
“You’ll have to sample it, tell me if I made it to your liking. I prefer it spicy but I kept it on the milder side. For you.”
“For me? You don’t think I like spicy?”
“Wasn’t sure. I can always add more.” Ben removes the lid of the pot and stirs for a moment. I watch him, the way he moves, the way he looks, like he’s taking this chili very seriously. And I notice how right this feels. Just being in his presence. Like I’ve known him my whole life. How many people can say they feel that way about someone they just met? I’m guessing not too many.
Ben pulls the spoon out then freezes in place. “Oh shit, I guess I should have asked if you eat meat.”
“I’ll eat your meat.” I take a step in his direction, watching as his brow lifts in question.
I smirk and grip his wrist, bringing the chili to my lips. It’s spicy. Like, extremely spicy. I can feel my face heating and I fan my cheeks as I swallow.
“Holy shit.” I cough a few times.
“That bad, huh?”
“That’s mild for you?”
“Yeah but hold on. I can fix it.” He darts to the fridge and removes a tub of sour cream, dumping what’s left of the container in the pot. “Little trick my dad taught me.”
I pull in some air. “I mean, it tastes really good. But yeah, that’s gonna set my ass on fire.”
“It’ll definitely put hair on your chest,” he says, stirring the sour cream.
“I don’t need any hair on my chest, thank you very much.”
With a smile he offers me another bite. “Okay, try this.”
I slurp a small amount as he watches me with a hopeful stare, and my eyes roll into my head. “Oh yeah, that’s much better.”
Ben takes a bite himself, looks me over, scoffs. “Wimp.”
I feign shock, sucking in a fake gasp and covering my chest.
He chuckles and pulls me to his body so fast I slam against him.
I grip his t-shirt and his hand is behind my head, his lips on mine. For the first second of the kiss he’s still laughing as his tongue moves into my mouth. I can feel the heat on his lips from the spices but then there’s this intense body heat between us, and it’s not from the chili.
