“If it’s not too much trouble,” Willow breathed, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. “I would love it.”
Ben’s eyes darkened with intensity and heat slashed through her, quick and sharp. Sheer unadulterated need floored her whenever his eyes lit on hers. It was crazy, it should have been impossible, but it simply was, and this time she couldn’t shake it off. It took Tess’s teasing comment to pull her from the brink and fist the hand she’d lifted to touch Ben’s mouth onto her thigh.
“Whew. I think you two melted the snow in a ten-foot radius.”
Willow whipped her head around, avoiding Tess’s amused eyes as her cheeks flushed, and missed most of her next words.
“—have to get Caleb his dinner and Scott’s busy flirting with Barb.”
“I’ll take Willow back. I have to stop at Victory anyway.” Ben said.
Willow didn’t respond, too busy fighting another kind of heat. The kind that caused all her female parts to jump with joy. She was going to be alone with Ben, which meant maybe, just maybe, she might get another chance to have his lips on her.
Hoping to disguise her shiver of anticipation, Willow turned to Henry. “If I don’t see you again, it was nice meeting you, Henry.”
The old man grunted. “Ain’t going anywhere.”
Patience was definitely a requirement when speaking with Henry. “But I am.”
“Maybe will, maybe won’t,” he said cryptically before he cackled again. “Willow. Will again, maybe will.”
Yep. Some marbles were most certainly missing from his bag.
As she stood, Henry unexpectedly, and with incredible speed for such an old, frail-looking man, gripped her hand. Shrewd eyes, all-knowing eyes, bored into her surprised ones. “Your name is Willow for a reason. Don’t succumb to foolish thoughts. Your will is strong, your heart stronger still. Listen to it.”
Flummoxed, Willow stuttered. “Ah. Okay.”
Only then did Henry drop her hand. “Begone. All of you. Done with the lot.”
Ben moved around the bench and put a hand to Willow’s back. His smile didn’t reach his eyes; they were too full of speculation. “Come on.”
Tess was shaking her head as they moved back to the cafe parking lot. “See what I mean? He’s a weird one.”
And maybe a whole lot smarter than most people believed. But Willow kept her thoughts to herself as she retrieved her purse and followed Ben back across the open area to his truck in the parking lot of the hardware store. Henry had disappeared—fast bugger—as did Joe, who meandered inside the cafe to wait for both Rome’s dinner and for Scott to finish flirting with the town’s pretty postal clerk.
Opening the truck door, Ben helped boost Willow inside before rounding the front to slide in behind the wheel. He cranked the engine and the heat. Willow noticed there wasn’t a coat for him in sight, but sitting so close she could feel the heat of his body warming the air. The man was a furnace, and no doubt a delight to snuggle up with on a cold winter night.
Don’t go there. Willow wet her dry lips. Do. Not. Go. There. “Thanks for taking me back.” Her voice was a little raspy. From being out in the cold. For sure.
He flashed her that grin, the one so charming and sexy it could melt a woman’s panties at twenty paces. “My pleasure.”
Unnerved, she stared out the window as they left the commercial loop and headed out onto the main street. “So where and what’s this place you said you needed to stop at?”
Ben pointed a thumb over his shoulder and she looked into the truck bed to see a ladder. “Promised to deliver this to Rose today after work since she doesn’t have a truck.”
Her jaw tightened, as did her gut. And just who the hell was Rose?
Almost immediately after the inner snarl she grimaced. She really needed to curb the wild jealousy that flared up whenever Ben mentioned another woman’s name. It was unhealthy, not to mention completely inappropriate.
So sweet her teeth ached with it, she asked “Rose?”
“She heads a section of the Mosaic Group at Victory and needs it for a set.”
None of that meant a darn thing to Willow. “And that means?”
His phone rang, but instead of answering it, he ignored it, in favor of answering Willow’s question. “Sorry. Victory is a church and the Mosaic Group is the name of the creative arts ministry.” Those eyes sparkled when he turned them on her for a brief moment. “I think you’ll like her. She’s a dancer, not by profession, but by love.”
“A dancer? Creative arts ministry?”
Ben nodded. “I know it sounds strange, but there you go.”