The Inn at Laurel Creek (7 page)

Lou's brows furrowed. "You might ought to do that sooner rather than later, Ben. I can see you're really taken with her, and I
don't want your little secret messin' that up, ya hear?"

"I know, Lou. Trust me, I don't want to screw things up with her
either. I'm gonna tell her when the time is right, I promise."

Tell me what? What secret? Where was he going? Someplace other
than back to the city, because his suitcase and his guitar case sat on the floor
next to him. He really was leaving. My stomach tightened. I clenched my fists and pressed them into my thighs. Ben had a secret and hadn't told me. I didn't expect to know everything about him in such a short amount of time, but why wouldn't he come and tell me he was leaving? Was he going to leave without saying goodbye?
Way to blow me off. I shouldn't have let myself feel the way I was feeling for him. I should have realized I would get hurt. I always got hurt.

I stepped out from behind the wall. "Goin' somewhere?" I said,
trying to sound casual, but sounding snippy instead.

He twisted around. "Carly, hey. I was just going to come up to your room." His face reddened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I just got a call about an important meeting and I
have to run
out
for the night. I'll be back tomorrow in the late afternoon. I thought it
could be changed but I was wrong. You're staying a few more days,
right?"

I shrugged, trying to act cool and not show my hurt and disappointment. "Actually, I've had some work stuff come up too, and I may have to leave earlier than planned." That wasn't true, but I
felt dejected. "So I'm not sure if I'll be here or not."

He ran a hand through his hair, and then rubbed his chin,
dragging his lower lip down. "Oh."

Lou and Stan looked around the room, pretending to not pay attention. "Well looky there, Stan," Lou said, pointing to the corner of
the ceiling. "We got us some spider webs up near the ceiling."

Stan's eyes followed Lou's arm. "We do? I don't see no spider
webs up there."

"Well I sure as shoot do, Stan. Let's go out to the garage and get the big ladder and get them taken care of."

Stan wasn't getting Lou's hints. "But I wanna see Ben here off,
Lou. Don't you?"

"Stan," Lou said, her voice firm. "You ought not argue with me now,
ya hear? Now come on, let's go." She walked toward the kitchen and
Stan, saying a quick goodbye to Ben, followed her like a puppy.

"So you might have to leave?" Ben asked.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "It just came up. I stopped by your room to tell you, but you weren't there. You must have been bringing your bags down or something." I was surprised that I felt so
hurt.

He must have sensed my hurt and closed the space between us, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I want to see you again," he whispered. "I'd love for you to be here when I get back, but if you can't, I understand. But I don't want this to be goodbye, Carly, please. So may I call you?" His eyes locked with mine, and the seriousness in them overwhelmed me.

I realized he didn't have my number, or, come to think of it, even my last name. And I didn't even know his last name. How could our time together mean anything if we didn't know such a basic but
important thing about each other? Maybe it was best to just walk away.

"I don't know, Ben. Maybe it's best if we just cut things off now. You know, this isn't real life or anything and we're both really busy
with our careers and stuff, so…"

He grabbed his chin again. "So you don't want to see me again? Is that it? Wow." He placed his hands on his waist and nodded.
"Honestly,
that's a little surprising to me. I thought we had made a connection." He leaned his forehead onto mine. "We did, Carly. We made a
connection, and I know you feel it, too."

Before I knew what I was saying I blurted out, "Maybe it was
just the right connection but only for a short time."

What was wrong with me? Why was I saying such insane crap? I didn't
feel that way, and I'm pretty sure he knew it too. Did I subconsciously want
to screw things up with Ben? Was I not ready to
move on from Matthew after all? Was I scared? Was I stupid?

Yes, that was it. I was stupid, and I promised myself I'd stop. "No Ben, you're right. We did have a connection. We do have a
connection."
I touched his chest with my hands and felt his heart racing. "I'm sorry. I guess I was a little shocked to see your suitcase and hear that
you're
leaving. I don't know why I'm being such a jerk." I dipped my head
into his chest in shame.

He lifted my chin with a finger. "You're not being a jerk. I should have explained and I didn't. I knew I might get this call, but I hoped I wouldn't. I guess I thought if I didn't think it would come, it
wouldn't,
and I could stay here with you." He tipped his forehead into mine again,
and brushed my mouth with his, sending sizzling currents up and
down
my spine. "I
do not
want you to leave. Please don't leave. Promise me you'll be here when I get back. I want more time with you—just you, without the pressures of the real world interfering. Promise me
you'll be here, Carly."

I kissed him. "I promise."

He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the ground,
spinning me around in a circle and kissing me again. "Great. That's great! I'll be back tomorrow, no later than five o'clock. I've asked Lou
to make a
picnic basket for us. I thought we could find a quiet spot to eat so I
could play you my song, the one I wrote about you. I've finished it."

"I'm even makin' his favorite dessert," Lou said, walking back into
the room, Stan following behind her with the ladder in tow.

He hugged her. "Thanks, Lou," he said and then shook Stan's
hand. "You've really got a keeper here, you know, Stan?"

Stan pointed to me. "Looks like I ain't the only one, boy."

Ben smiled at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite identify, something intense and honest. "I think you're right, Stan. I
think you're right."

Just then a horn beeped and Ben said, "That's my ride." He
grabbed my hand. "Walk out with me?"

"Sure." As we left, I heard Lou tell Stan what a cute couple we made.

"Promise me you'll be here?" he asked, squeezing my hand.

"I promise," I said, squeezing his hand back.

The driver took his suitcase and placed it in the trunk. "Would you like the guitar in the car with you, Mr. Reynolds?" the driver asked.

Ben's last name was Reynolds. I made a mental note to Google him later.

"Yes please, John. And do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

The driver pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket and handed it to Ben.

Ben scribbled something onto the paper and handed it to me. "Here's my cell. If you have to leave, or just want to talk, call me. Okay?"

I nodded, as tears formed in my eyes, making me feel silly. He wiped one away and grinned slyly. "Wow, you must really dig me, huh?"

I smacked his shoulder. "Not after that comment, I don't," I said, giggling. "Now go. I've got to get ready for the next hot musician to check in."

"Lou would never let that happen, you know," he said. "She's got my back."

"I don't doubt that one bit," I said.

"So," he asked, getting shy all of a sudden, "can I have your number,
too?" He dipped his head and then lifted his eyes to me, looking
innocent and sexy at the same time.

I kissed him quickly and then took the paper, writing down my cell. "Here, now go, and hurry back."

"Yes, ma'am."

I watched the car drive away, surprised by the ache of loneliness suddenly in my heart.

That night I sat in the great room of the big old house, admiring the southern decor, drinking sweet tea and talking to Lou. The tables were covered in white doilies like the ones my grandmother used to
have,
and I wondered if, when I lifted one, an imprint of dust would
remain.

My mind was distracted by Ben's comments to Lou and Stan before he knew I was listening. What was it he hadn't told me? What was Ben hiding from me? Was it something bad, something that
would change
my opinion of him, my feelings for him? I didn't know what that could possibly be and I wanted to ask Lou, but didn't want to put her on the spot. It was unbelievably hard not to ask though, unbelievably hard.

While I thought about Ben's secret, Lou told me stories of the
house's history, how she and Stan fell in love, and she promised to give
me her sweet tea recipe before I left—as long as I didn't tell anyone
where I got it. She didn't want her ancestors coming back to haunt her for giving
away their secret family recipes.

"I promise I won't," I said. "In fact, I'll take full credit for creating
it myself, if you'd like."

Lou chuckled, and then her tone turned serious. "I was best friends with Ben's momma growin' up, did he tell you that? We were thick
as thieves 'til the day she died."

My fingers grazed my throat. "He didn't tell me that, no. He did say that he spent a lot of time here growing up, but I didn't know
you were close to his mom. It must have been hard, losing her."

She stared at a painting above the stone fireplace. It was of two young girls swinging on tires from a tree in front of an old barn. "That's us, when we were about eight," she said, pointing to it. "I'm the one on the right. You can tell that's Ben's momma. She was cute
as a bug's ear
at that age, just like her baby was too." She sipped her tea. "Still is
now, if you ask me."

"He definitely is," I said.

"He's really takin' a likin' to you too, Carly. And he don't want me sayin' nothin' but Ben's kin to me and I don't want him gettin' his heart
broke. It's hard for him, havin' a relationship, what with being all
famous and such. Most girls aren't interested in him for nothin' but his celebrity,
so he don't date much these days." She stood and walked over to the painting. "Now don't you go breakin' his heart, you hear?"

Famous? Celebrity? What was she talking about? Ben wasn't famous, was he?

"A celebrity? What do you mean?" I asked.

She walked back over to me and patted my shoulder. "Oh, honey. You ain't figured it out yet, have you? Lawdy be, I should learn to keep my mouth shut, but I just figured you knew after spendin' time with
him. If Stan's warned me about this once, he's warned me a hun'rd
times, but there I went, openin' my big mouth again."

I straightened in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. I thought back to the first time I heard Ben sing and the familiarity of his voice. I thought I'd recognized it, but I couldn't quite place it, so I just
wrote it off to my wonky brain. I thought about his reasons for coming
to the Inn to write. He said he wanted to get away. He said he'd performed before, but gave me the impression it was something minor, just like he
said the groupies were no big deal. Just a few hours earlier he'd left to meet with his manager via a limo driver. What starving artist could afford a limo driver, or a manager for that matter? So just who was Ben?
I ran through the names of all of the famous singers I could think of,
and none of them were named Ben.

"I don't understand. I can't think of any famous singer named
Ben," I said to Lou.

Lou's mouth curled upward and her blue eyes sparkled. "Don't you listen to the radio?" She waved her hand. "Never you mind. I got somethin' to show you." She walked over to an old oak cabinet pushed up against the wall next to the fireplace, and pulled open the
top drawer. "This here'll help." She pulled out a CD and handed it to me.

I nearly dropped the CD when I saw the picture of someone who
looked an awful lot like Ben, and read the name above it. "Bret
Bennett?
Ben is Bret Bennett?" I jumped out of my seat. "I knew his voice
sounded familiar!"

Lou's smile grew, and she nodded. "That's our Ben all right."

Bret Bennett was a well-known, incredibly popular singer. He'd had at least two songs at the top of the charts consistently for the past few years. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but one of his current songs had been played so often I'd started changing the channel when it played. Bret Bennett was a sultry, bluesy singer with a hint
of pop to his music.
He sang about love and loss, and not surprising to me anymore, growing up with just a mother. Bret Bennett had short, dark brown hair that he worn in a high and tight style, and dressed in Ralph Lauren and all of the latest expensive designer clothes. Bret Bennett was hot and every girl wanted their chance with him—from teenagers to stay-at-home moms, and including my best friends.

Ben had longer, shaggy blond hair, dressed in t-shirts and ripped jeans, a casual and carefree style. Ben was sexy and sweet in his own right, but there was an innocence and shyness to him that
made it
impossible to believe the two were one. "That's not Ben," I said, shaking my head in stiff, rapid movements. But I knew it was. I could tell by the eyes, their slight angle up on the sides, and the
speckles of dark blue in
the lighter blue iris. I could tell by the way his lips curled up in his
smile, and by the shape of his front teeth, especially because one stuck out just a tiny bit more than the other. I knew Bret was Ben, and picturing Ben while staring at Bret made it clear as day. "Oh my
God."