Souvenirs (6 page)

Chapter 6

Grace stood in the dining room door and surveyed the breakfast crowd, comparing their departure to their arrival. Four days seemed like forever, and the changes were monumental. It wasn’t only in her situation. The rowdy group of retirees had begun to resemble the co-eds from her spring break vacations.

Ben was boxed in at a table by an unfamiliar couple, listening to the man’s one-sided conversation and glancing at pictures the woman was rifling through.

“
Help me.”
He mouthed the words over the woman’s curls. Grace shook her head, leaving him to his fate. When he added puppy dog eyes to his plea, her laughter escaped and her resolve weakened.

After ensuring her mother was settled at a table with their efficient tour director, Grace began her mission of mercy. She was going to rescue her boyfriend at breakfast from the verbose couple who had no idea about their short history together. She was leaving the safety of Vienna for the unknown of Salzburg. Her knees wobbled.

“Professor and Mrs. Goldstein, may I introduce Grace Ward?” Ben slipped the introduction between breaks in the professor’s lecture as Grace sat next to Mrs. Goldstein. She almost fell out of the chair as his foot tickled her calf.

“All right?” She smiled as she tried her new language.

His face lit as he nodded sharply. “All right?”

She imitated the movement as she reached a shaky hand for the coffee.

“Let me.”

“Thanks, sw—” She gulped the endearment back into her throat but saw the comical quirk of his eyebrows. This time she surrendered to the urge to kick him under the table.

“I’m sorry.” The professor blinked in surprise. “Am I in someone’s way?”

Ben dissolved into a helpless pile of mirth in front of Grace’s embarrassed eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. These tables are so small.” She turned to the older man and ignored Ben’s struggle for composure. “I’m late to the discussion. What do you teach?”

“Economics at NYU.”

The little man resembled a taller, grayer version of ‘Tennessee Tuxedo,’ the penguin from childhood cartoons. He seemed enraptured with his subject—a love affair no one at the table, not even his wife, shared.
Econ at breakfast.
Grace managed a quick, cross-eyed, look in Ben’s direction, only to hear him sputter into his tea.

She jumped in with a question she hoped would distract the impromptu class. “I’ve always found it rewarding with students to see the ‘light bulb’ moment when they grasp a principle. Haven’t you?”

“What courses do you teach, dear?” Mrs. Goldstein joined the conversation, relaxing as her husband fell silent.

“Literature and Creative Writing.”
My last workshop was Fifty Ways to Kill a Character.
Grace refocused on the professor, careful not to completely hijack his audience. “But I think the moment is probably the same across disciplines. Don’t you, sir?”

“Yes,” the man said, nodding emphatically. “Just the other day . . .”

Once he’d made his point, Grace encouraged Mrs. Goldstein to join them by asking about teaching her grandchildren. Then she got Ben to talk about Andrew and soccer. From there, they discussed American football versus European football. Soon they were comparing cricket and baseball, and the professor was lecturing about the history of the Mets. The man just liked to lecture. But at least everyone had a chance to talk until they were saved by their guide’s insistence about boarding the bus.

The professor, the bill on his Mets cap arrow-straight and pulled low over his brows, strode toward the exit. Ben stood and helped Mrs. Goldstein with her jacket.

“Thank you both,” she said. “He can be insufferable when he’s nervous. This was a breath of fresh air.”

“We enjoyed getting to know both of you, Hannah,” Ben reassured her. “I’m sure we’ll get another chance to visit in Salzburg.”

Salzburg
.

Grace looked across the table. Ben stood absolutely still, as his eyes swept over her from head to toe and back. His tongue moistened his lips. He looked like a leopard ready to pounce on its prey.

And just like a gazelle out in the open, her nerves twitched for flight. Not away from him, but toward him. Her blood heated, and her lungs weren’t large enough for the air she needed. Her nipples sharpened, scratching against her lace bra.

His gaze raked over her again, stopping at her breasts. A blush crept up his neck.

“That would be lovely,” Hannah Goldstein continued.

Ben offered the older woman his arm and she stayed between them. It kept Grace from being a predator’s gazelle.

“Have you two been together long?”

He smiled across the little woman’s head, a wicked glint in his eye. “Sometimes it feels like just yesterday.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m not twenty anymore and going on my first date with Saul.” She gave them each a quick kiss and then joined her husband. “You two enjoy your vacation.”

“‘Help me,’ my ass,” Grace drawled as she went to the end of the line.

“I’ve not had that much fun in a long time. At least since yesterday.” He stroked his knuckles down her spine as he whispered in her ear, “Good morning, Idgie. Sleep well?”

“Eventually.” He smelled like heaven, and she fought the urge to sag against him and soak up his warmth. They could cuddle tonight. Her skin heated without his help. “You?”

“I was a little keyed up.” He poked her in the ribs. “But I eventually nodded off. I’ll have a kip on the train.”

“You’ll be able to sleep?”

“It’s like a large rocking chair once you get used to the rhythm. Most of the time I can’t help it.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll miss something?”

“When you’re home can you sleep in the car?”

“If I’m not driving.” She giggled when he crossed his eyes. “But that’s different. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Aha,” Ben exclaimed as they climbed the steps. “It’s the same thing for me. I’ve seen this part before. Look at it this way,” he pointed out as they worked their way down the aisle to their seats, “we won’t fight over the window.”

They didn’t. After transferring from the bus, they took seats near the back of the train car. She settled in for their ride and, true to his word, Ben fell asleep not long after they left the station. One minute he’d been teasing her about something silly, and the next he’d sunk into oblivion.

At first she’d been irritated he didn’t want to savor every moment they had together. The admission had only grated more. But now the vulnerability in the slack planes of his face made her want to guard his peace and give him as much rest as possible.

The countryside slipped by the window, and she realized he was right. After a while, it did all look the same. Almost worse, it looked like home. She picked up her notebook and began considering the outline for her next plot.

Writing her first book had been one thing, adapting it had been quite different. The last few months had made her head spin, but she’d finally finished the screenplay.

It would have been cause for celebration if she wasn’t behind on her deadline for her next book in the series and fresh out of ideas. Her agent and publisher’s anxiety weren’t helping. Grace needed to reconnect with why she loved to write. Taking her own teaching advice to heart, she put pen to paper and wrote what came into her head. Soon, she’d propped herself against the window and balanced the notebook on her knees.

“No laptop?”

Ben’s gravelly question raised her gaze from the page. He was slouched in the seat, his blue eyes hooded and his dark hair splayed across the headrest. She wondered if he woke like this all the time.

I guess I’ll find out in the morning.

She returned her notebook to the bag, careful to fasten the clasp. “It was too much of a pain. I decided to unplug altogether.”

“Me too. I thought it would be easier to relax if the office couldn’t reach me. I promised to enjoy my time. Originally I’d intended to pay attention to Mum.” He took her hand. “This is . . . better.”

Grace agreed. From their spot near the back of the train, they could see the entire group. The Goldsteins were visiting with the couple from Dublin, and Sunny and Camille were busy with their high-speed sightseeing. Ava Greer had her nose in a book, while her cousin visited with the other members of their group. Adam and Nora Cain were busy being in love.

Bennett followed her gaze. “That’s some serious ink on Nora. It must have hurt like the devil.”

“I think maybe the scars hurt worse,” Grace said. As if planned, the sun angled through the windows and illuminated the finely drawn white lines crisscrossing all the skin visible on Nora’s right side.

He issued a low whistle only Grace could hear. “Bloody hell.”

“I’m wondering if it she did it before or after they met.” While she hated gossiping, Grace relished talking to him like this, their hushed tones creating an invisible bubble.

“I’m thinking before,” he guessed. “Most churches I know wouldn’t sit for their min
ister’s wife doing that.”

Her gaze shot to Adam’s fingers, twined with his wife’s. “That explains it.”

“What?” Ben asked.

“His tattoo.”

“Adam doesn’t have a tattoo.”

“Yes he does,” she insisted, “on his left hand. It’s white, so you can’t see it very well, and it looks like a scar unless you know what it is.” Lost in her description, she traced the pattern on Ben’s hand, trailing a fingertip around his ring finger, up the back of his hand, and then around his wrist, dancing along the edge of his watch.

“And he always tries to position it so he’s holding her right hand with his left. How sweet.”

“What?” Ben murmured.

“Pay attention.” Her exasperated teacher tone gave way when she looked into his face. The hungry leopard was back. This time, the edges of his teeth were visible.

“You always look like you want to kiss me,” she whispered.

“There’s a reason for that.” He winked. “Right now I’m worried if I start, I won’t stop. So tell me why Adam’s tattoo is sweet.”

“His starts where hers stops.” Her eyes misted over. “He’s tied them together.”

Nora stepped across the aisle, somehow graceful despite the rock of the car. “Hey, Ben. Go talk to Adam about the history of the Alps or something, please. I need to talk shop with Grace.”

He squeezed her fingers before he crossed to the other side of the train.

Grace took advantage of the privacy. “Can I use your tattoos in a book? Would you mind?”

Nora waved away the question. “I’d be happy to contribute, and Adam will get a kick out of it. You’re going to switch rooms, aren’t you?” She grinned rather too wickedly, yet Grace couldn’t help but echo it.

“So, I’m thinking you didn’t bring any lingerie,” Nora said.

An image flitted through Grace’s mind—her plaid shorts and red sleep shirt with a large teddy bear on the front. “Oh God.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Worse.” Grace groaned as she put her hand over her face. “What am I going to do?”

“We’ll go shopping. I’m a newlywed, so I have a license to shop for sexy things to, er, sleep in. Now let’s spend a few minutes looking all happy just to make them nervous.”

Sitting next to Adam, Ben got a glimpse of what a vacation without Grace would be like. He couldn’t stop staring as the sunlight highlighted the freckles across her nose and the chestnut strands in her dark hair. Her laughter tickled his ears, and his fingers were cold without her. After a respectable amount of time, he returned and shooed Nora back to her side of the aisle.

Back in his proper spot, Ben watched Nora and Adam together. He envied Nora because of Adam’s acceptance. Whatever she had been through, he had apparently given her a place to dispose of her past. Ben wanted that peace. He wanted to believe it could withstand the truth. The first step was to be honest with the woman next to him.

“Before we get to Salzburg, I should tell you something. Grace, I—”

Her soft fingers muffled his explanation, and her expression stopped it entirely. Her eyes were wide in her pale face. “Are you married?”

He shook his head, never removing her hand.

“Are you a criminal of some sort?”

From schmuck to thug. Great.
Still, he smiled as he shook his head.

“Do you have some sort of horrible disease?”

Geez, she’s given this some thought
. At his emphatic denial, Grace rubbed her thumb along his bottom lip.

“Does anything you think you need to tell me change what you’ve told me so far?”

Ben placed a warm kiss in her palm, flicking his tongue against her skin. Her breath caught while her fingers cradled his jaw, making him feel fragile despite his size. It was always there, the sweetness of her, the intense heat between them.

He brushed his knuckles along the tendon in her neck. “I will never lie to you about anything that matters.”

She nodded. “All my answers are the same. Can that be enough?”

He was gobsmacked. “Do you realize what you’re offering?”

“Everyone has secrets, sweetheart. If it still matters in Paris, we’ll address it then. Deal?”

Ben took the gift she offered and sealed their bargain with a kiss.

What’s her secret?
The devil whispered in his ear.

He pulled away to see her face. “So, you don’t have a husband waiting on you at home?”

The Alps loomed on the horizon, but Grace held his gaze. “No.”

“Thank God.” He rearranged their bodies so they could watch the mountains out the window. “And you teach?”

“From time to time.”

“If my lit teacher had looked like you, I might never have graduated. What do you do the rest of the time?”