Page 55 of Plentywood
“I’d like a trunk,” he murmured.
“I know you would.” I soothed, locks around my heart clicking open. “Hop back in, do a U-turn, and then follow me slowly to my place. I’ll show you how to change a tire while we still have daylight.”
“I’m hungry too,” he added.
Click-click.More locks opening. “I’ll fix that too.”
“Okay,” he said, lifting his eyes toward me. “I’m useless, aren’t I?”
“No way!” I disagreed. “Remember, I think you’re cute.”
Perhaps Jill had been right, and Icouldfind the old Hunter. Practice makes perfect. Ben was perfect, and I wanted to practice.
Click-click.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Benedict
“Idon’t think animals like me,” I said, grabbing Hunt’s arm and hiding behind him.
“Who told you that?” he asked. “Bella seems to, and she doesn’t like many people.”
“No one told me, but I just think it’s true.”
“Put your hand out for her to sniff,” he instructed. “Trust me, Ben. She will not hurt you.”
Bella seemed delighted that I decided to engage with her. She’d been going crazy in the front window after Hunt put her inside when we got to his house and he taught me how to change a tire. Usually, things slobbering on me would freak me out, but she genuinely seemed to like me.
“See?” he asked. “A natural dog lover. Now, how about some dinner?”
I stood, and we headed into his house. The inside was extremely organized. Virtually nothing on the kitchen counter but an espresso machine and aMr. Coffeemachine. A microwave was installed above the stove with a note stuck to it. Each dining room chair was pushed in and appeared to have been measured to an exactness in the spacing.
“Both an espresso machine and a coffeemaker?” I asked. Both had notes stuck to them as well. “Espresso for the fancy guests?”
Hunt didn’t answer and pulled a chair out from under the table. My eyes traveled around the room. I began to notice that several things had notes stuck to them. The side of the fridge had several notes with perfect spacing and in exact rows.
“Odd, right?” he asked, catching me as I wandered around the kitchen, realizing there had to be twenty plus notes on everything. I leaned toward the Mr. Coffee machine. There was a note about how many scoops to use, a specific brand of coffee, and the words ‘Will shut off automatically after three hours.’
I turned around and leaned against the counter, the coffee maker behind me. I was curious now about all the notes. “Hunt? Do you have memory problems?”
“Spoken like a real doctor,” he quipped.
“I am arealdoctor and now I’m concerned,” I admitted.
Hunt looked toward the large picture window where Bella had been going crazy earlier, and beyond to the hills in the distance. I’d overstepped.
“I wrote all the notes when he died,” he said, returning his gaze. “I guess I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t do things the way he did.”
“Shit,” I muttered, feeling an inch tall. “I’m a dick. I’m sorry.”
“I liked the way Mark did stuff,” he continued, breezing past my apology. “He ran the house. I just lived here with him and Bella.”
“Has it helped?”
“I have the notes memorized now,” he admitted, fumbling with the bottom edge of his T-shirt. “But I’m afraid to remove them.”
I joined him at the table. “What was it like?” I asked.
He sat up abruptly, his eyes widening, inhaling a deep breath. “His dying?” he asked. “You want to know what that was like?” He stared at me like a third eye had suddenly appeared on my forehead. “It fucking sucked is what it was like!”
