“You didn’t yell. You were being your usual bad-mannered self but you didn’t yell.”
He doesn’t fire back an answer. The look on his face is now troubled, as if he’s struggling with the thought that I might dislike him.
“I don’t understand you, Beltran.”
I told him that last night and it’s true. Most of the guys I know, whether they are from Black Mountain or Devil Valley, are fairly easy to decipher. They are driven by sex or sports or ambition or cruelty or fear. Most times a combination of these. But Ben is different. The more I watch him the less I can figure out what drives him.
A shadow falls across the door and I look over to see the McGill brothers are standing just on the other side of the glass. Alex gestures and appears to be arguing with his brother Damian, who shakes his head, spits on the concrete and stalks away. Alex glowers for a few seconds and finally follows.
When I look over at Ben his eyes are narrowed and his right hand is balled into a fist as he watches the McGills retreat.
“They’ve always been a pair of shit stains,” I tell him. “Believe me, I’ve known them since elementary school. Alex has got to be nearly twenty now. I think he was left back twice.”
Ben’s fist relaxes and he snorts out a laugh. “Shit stains, huh?”
I grin. “Yup. See? I can be vulgar when I choose to be.”
His expression changes and his eyes conduct a quick scan of my body in a way that makes my cheeks grow hot. “That’s good to know.”
I clear my throat to chase away the sudden shift in mood. “Uh, you never did tell me exactly what happened the day the McGills followed me in here.”
Ben scratches his head and acts like he’s thinking. “Not sure I remember.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m positive you remember, Ben.”
“Maybe.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Cut it out. What did you do to get them to leave me alone?”
“What did I tell you I did to get them to leave you alone?”
“You said you gave them free potato chips. Quit being evasive.”
“Evasive. Ha!”
“Don’t you know what it means?”
“Of course I know what it means. It’s just a snotty bullshit word to use.”
“Why don’t you answer the question?”
“I already forgot the question.”
I’m losing my patience. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THE MCGILLS TO LEAVE ME ALONE?”
“I told you. I gave them potato chips. But I might have said something too.”
I want to reach across the counter and shake him. “And are you going to tell me what you said, Ben?”
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“You’re ridiculous. I’ve already told you that I want to know.”
He pauses. “I said that we’re fucking.”
“Who’s fucking?”
“You and me, Camden. And I made it clear that if anyone invades my territory I’ll take it personally.”
Then he grins. He’s obviously enjoying this. He’s probably not even telling the truth. He just wants to shock me.
I’d like to say something witty and sharp but the words puddle together in my head. I can only stare at him and wonder how it would feel to have his big, rough hands all over me.
The idea that my thoughts might be showing on my face terrifies me into turning on my heel and heading for the stock room.
“I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
This is not true. The stockroom is spotless. The inventory sheets are all caught up. But if I stand in front of Ben for one more second I know he’ll see right through me.
The bell chimes just as I enter the stockroom and I spend the next hour rearranging shelves that don’t need to be rearranged. That’s where I stay until I hear Ben calling my name. There’s a line of customers now and he’s all business, ordering me to take charge of the register while he goes out and deals with a problem at one of the gas pumps.
I don’t mind handling the checkout line. Ben stays outside for a long time and in between customers I watch him. He fixes whatever is wrong with the pump and then empties all the outside garbage cans into a dumpster in the next parking lot. It’s well past dark now and the temperature has got to be below freezing but he continues to find things to do outside despite wearing no jacket or gloves.
When he finally returns he jumps behind the counter, takes a seat on the floor and switches on the portable heater that Diane uses whenever she’s here.
“Why didn’t you wear a jacket?” I ask him as he warms his hands. “It’s probably twenty degrees out there.”
Ben acts like he doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he’s too cold to answer. The area behind the counter is narrow and there’s something odd, almost intimate, about being this close. Despite everything, I have a bizarre urge to wrap my arms around him and warm him up.
After a few minutes he hops back over the counter and begins sweeping the floor. He takes his time and since there’s no one else in the store I have nothing to do but watch him. I enjoy watching him. There’s plenty about Ben to dislike but he’s definitely easy on the eyes. He’s all strapping hard muscle and athletic style.
“Ben?”
He sets the push broom against the wall. “What?”
“I really haven’t been trying to spy on you.”
This is not the complete truth. I have been watching him and attempting to put all the jagged, mismatched pieces together in my head. I have been plotting out an article. And I did ask Trina to try and extract information from her boyfriend. But I don’t want him to think I’ve been stalking him like some obsessed freak. That’s not what I am. Not exactly. I’m just…curious.
He rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “You said that yesterday.”
“It’s true.” I come from behind the counter so I can look him in the eye. “And I took this job because I need it not because I was interested in spending more time in your presence.”
He crosses his arms. “What are you interested in, Camden?”
My eyes glide over his chest, his muscled arms, his square jaw, his full lips.
“I’m not sure.”
He watches me for a moment. Then he pulls off his work vest, walks over to the front door, locks it and switches the sign to ‘Closed’.
A very particular kind of heat begins stirring in my belly. “There are ten minutes left until closing.”
“Not by my watch.” He jerks his head. “Let’s go in the back.”
I swallow. This is the kind of situation that occupies my fantasies. “Why?”
He dims the main light. “You know why.”
I do. And so I follow him to the stockroom. There are no cameras back here. I’m not afraid anyone will see whatever it is we’re about to do.
There’s a long wooden bench that slices through the middle of the stockroom. Ben takes a seat and pats the space beside him but I hesitate. The room is lit by a single low watt overhead bulb and once I shut the door behind me it seems so small.
Ben stays put while I linger by the door. “That’s a nice dress.”