Page 82 of Plentywood
“Not him. That’s for sure,” I’d complained.“But he is so receptive to me and my physical needs. I just think there is this… block? Or maybe something stops him from expressing himself right before I feel he wants to.”
“What about his experiences?” Jill had asked.
“Only one, and according to him, that was a three-year casual hook-up.”
“Well, there it is,” she’d insisted. “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he thinks you’re likely to be the same thing.”
I studied my chin in the mirror, checking to see if the shaving nick had stopped bleeding. Jill’s words rang loud and clear in my mind. Should I be the first to expose myself and risk being rejected? Could I survive that after setting my heart on him so prematurely? And then there was the fact that he might leave in ten months.
Our time together was incredible. Ben was incredible. My life was suddenly incredible. All I did was think about shit beingincredible. I was acting ridiculous. I woke up each day with something to look forward to after the nightmarish two years that I’d managed to exist through. There was a singular reason for the change. And that was Ben Hawthorne.
“Oh, shit,” I sighed, looking at the hopeful man looking back at me from the mirror. “Please love me,” I whispered, sending messages to the universe.
Mark used to say, ‘Manifest those feelings, baby. Put it out there to the universe.’ According to him, messages are meantto be received and shared in our universe. Hadn’t he recently shared a message with Jennie?
The little that Ben had told me about the consequence of that night, he was certain that Mark had relayed the info to Jennie. I, on the other hand? Let’s just say I received the news the same way I’d handled Mark’s enthusiasm for the universe. Skeptically. But then again, how would Jennie know about Triple H Ranch and the threat of its sale hurting Plentywood?
My cell phone buzzed on the toilet seat where I’d placed it before showering. The old warm feeling of hope that Ben was texting me settled across my chest, releasing butterflies to my tummy. Having someone to text, speak with, dream about, was nice.Incrediblynice.
I actually giggled at myself and my boyish excitement at seeing Ben’s name appear on the screen of my phone.
You going to sing me a song, stud?The text read.
I didn’t immediately respond to the message as I soaked up the joy I felt inside.
Keep the song choices short. I’m hungry for some sheriff.
My cock flexed under my towel. “Calm down, boy. Aren’t you worn out yet?” I whispered, winking at myself in the mirror. “Never!” I exclaimed, still focused on the nick on my chin.
My cell buzzed again.The pale blue shirt,it read.
Matches your eyes,text two read.
Ben reminded me of Mark in so many ways. Perhaps that was why I was sick to my stomach about as often as I was over the moon. Ben had the same way about him when it came to fussing over me. He recognized I was most likely agonizing over my clothing choices. He was attentive and sweet with me. Ben did what Mark did so abundantly well—he showed he cared for me.
I had a serious weakness for being cared for by my man. It began when I was sixteen and a thirteen-year-old Markintroduced what devotion and caring did for one’s soul. Even at Mark’s tender age of barely being a teenager, he’d possessed a talent for making me feel like number one. That never changed in the subsequent sixteen years we were together.
You mad at me?Another text asked.
I’d noticed that Ben guarded his emotions. He gave affection willingly. In fact, he was good at that. But he seemed to worry if he was going too far with his caring sometimes. He would check in with me often during a date to make sure he was acting normal. Or he would ask if I thought he was too clingy. Perhaps this was the result of a casual three-year ‘thing.’
I wiped my hands with the towel and responded to his texts. I’d decided several days ago to give as good as he did. A decision that would put my heart at risk. But I’d also decided to manifest. Why not? Any help the universe could offer was accepted and needed.
Just stepped out of the shower, pretty boy.
I watched the bubbles on my screen, hoping he’d text back immediately. Possibly hoping to save myself from digging a bigger hole to fall in into when I texted more words concerning my burgeoning love for him.
“Fuck it!” I said. “I’m manifesting. Right, Girl?” I asked Bella, who was curled up on the rug by the shower.
I decided to go strong with my response.How could I ever be mad at you? I’m crazy about you, doc.
I received an emoji with three hearts around a smiling, yellow face. The surge of warmth invading my heart was almost as good as a confirmed and notarized letter that Ben loved me.
My mind knocked on my heart’s door.Do you love him? You’d have to take risks, Hunter. You know how much you love that. Not!
Another text from Ben.Can you pick me up thirty minutes later than I said? I want to look good for you.
You’re already perfect for me,I responded.
