Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted (15 page)

“Long enough.”
She wiggled her fingers at Ben. “Hi Roger.”

He wiggled back.
“It’s Ben.”

“That was such a
tender moment,” Tasha grinned.

Brooke held up a
hand like a traffic cop. “Okay, stop,” she said, exhaling a warm breath. “Why
do you need my coat?”

“Mandy and I are
going to Buffalo Wild Wings.”

Brooke shook her
head like she had just been slapped. “Why?”

An innocent
shrug made Tasha’s brown leather coat bounce on her shoulders. “Because that is
where I will find the easiest target on the planet.”

Ben ran his hand
over his hair from back to front. “Target?”

Tasha peered out
the skylight into space. “You know – beer belly, flip-flops, colorful NASCAR
hat. The works. I mean, the kind of guy who will cream his pants before I even
have to touch his little chubby peter.”

Ben laughed.

“Oh my God, you
are not serious!” Brooke said.

Tasha swung her
eyes over to her and spoke in a grave voice. “Oh, I’m serious - dead serious. I
haven’t slept in three days.”

“Sweetie, you’re
just going through a rough patch because you keep picking the wrong guys.”

“Brooke, this
goes way deeper than that! I was obviously cursed by a band of pissed off
gypsies or something!” A conquered sigh slithered from her lips into the tree
house. “Probably cut one of them off while I was texting and driving. Who
knows?”

“Sounds like you
had it coming.”

Tasha and Brooke
turned to him with screwed up faces.

He held up his
hands. “What? That shit should be illegal. I hate getting stuck behind those
assholes.”

“Hey!”

“Honey,” Brooke
said, reaching for Tasha’s hand. “I’m not going to let you do this, nor will I
lend you my coat or anything else that makes me an accessory to this idiotic
crime.”

“Brooke, do you
think I
want
to do this? No, I don’t.
But I don’t have a choice in the matter because sometimes when life pushes, you
have to push back.”

Ben started
cracking up.

“You have lost
your mind,” Brooke asserted, leaning back into her bean bag.

“Relax, I’m just
going to flirt with some guy and see if he gets hard. That’s it.”

Ben leaned back
in the bean bag as well, the floorboards groaning beneath his weight. “That’s
the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Tasha, you
don’t have to do this. You’re beautiful!” She looked to Ben for help. “Isn’t
she pretty?”

“Very pretty.”

Tasha raised her
brow. “Really?”

“Yes,” they
replied at the same time.

Tasha swept a
tongue across her lips. “Maybe I just hang out here with you guys tonight.” Her
eyes ran across Ben’s midsection. “See what comes up.”

“My coat is in
my closet,” Brooke replied flatly.

Tasha shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” she said, carefully backing her way to the trapdoor. “Wish me
luck.”

“No.” Brooke
stuck her head through the doorway and watched Tasha carefully navigate the
ladder in high heels.

“K, bye,” Tasha
sang out, dropping into the grass and prancing across the yard.

Brooke eased
back into the tree house, grumbling beneath her breath. “There is no getting
through to her.” When Ben didn’t respond she looked over. “What are you doing?”

Ben pulled the
carpet back in his hand. “There’s something under here.” He clicked the
flashlight on and pried a loose board up with a light crack. “What the hell?”
His hand went into the hole and came back with a small box resembling a
miniature trunk. He blew dust from its lid, making Brooke cough.

“Thanks,” she
said, waving her hand through the air.

“What is this?”

“I have no idea.”

Ben’s face
sobered. “Do you think a bum put it here?”

“No.”

Ben handed her
the light and inhaled a steadying breath before carefully cracking the lid open.
His jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” he whispered, snaring a weathered piece of
parchment paper from inside.

Brooke watched
him unfold it.

His eyes lit up.
“It’s a treasure map!”

“What?” she
said, like he had lost his mind.

Ben sat up
straighter and took the light from her, illuminating the cracked piece of paper
with moth holes in it. “Is this real?”

“I don’t have
any idea.”

His wide eyes
followed the winding dotted line to a big red
X
. “Maybe a bum stored it here and ended up passing away in the woods
or getting killed by the hobo killer and now it’s ours.” He turned to her with
a shell-shocked expression on his face. “We have to find this treasure. I could
finally open my own studio!”

Brooke lost it
and covered her mouth, giggling to beat the band. “It’s a replica of the
treasure map from
The Goonies
,
Captain Jack!”

His features
fell. “What!”

She took a deep
wheezing breath. “My dad used to trick our friends and cousins into thinking it
was real.” She trailed off into a quiet moment of reflection. “Until Bobby
Morrison dug up Joe’s rose garden looking for the treasure.”

“Joe?”

“Our neighbor.”

He turned back
to the map, the excitement draining from his face like air in a punctured tire.
“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

He snorted, following
its lines and curves. “Damn, for a second there I thought One-Eyed Willie was
real after all.”

A devilish grin
played on Brooke’s lips. Her hand slithered into his lap. “I got your One-Eyed
Willie right here.”

“You better
start digging.”

She pulled her
hand back. “On second thought, it’s probably time for you to get going.”

“Oh, come on,”
he whined, pulling her back to him, “not very adventurous.”

Her fingers toyed
with his zipper. “Only if you promise you won’t go golfing with my dad this
weekend.”

His mouth opened
but nothing came out. “I already told him I would.”

“So? Get a cold
and cancel.”

“No way.”

Her gaze turned
chilly. “Fine,” she said crossly, yanking her hand back.

A deep breath
puffed his chest out. He released it. “You really shouldn’t use sex as a tool.”

The same owl
hooted out into the lonely night, searching for a soul mate it had yet to find.

Brooke looked at
him and pushed her lips into the side of her face, pulling his zipper down and
reaching inside. “You really are insufferable, you know that?”

Chapter
Sixteen

“Four!” Will
watched the ball sail through the air, shielding the sun with one hand, an
oversized driver in the other. He flinched when the ball landed. “Holy fucking
shit,” he said, retreating to the golf cart. “I think I just pegged that lady
right in the head.”

“No, I think you
missed her.” Ben teed up a ball and took some leisurely practice swings. “But I
think she might have stepped on it.”

“That figures.”

“If she did, you
have to play it where it lies.”

Will jammed the
driver into a bag strapped to the back of the cart. “Oh, you like playing by
the rules, huh, Tony?”

Ben lined up the
shot, waggling his hips through in the air. “As long as it’s PGA rules.”

A rolling laugh
cart wheeled from Will before dying on the breeze. His eyes narrowed into
something sinister as a lazy white cloud momentarily blotted out the sun above.
“I like your style, T-Bone.” Will tightened his golf glove. “None of that
mulligan
bullshit.”

“And no
foot-wedges either.”

“Care to make it
interesting?”

“Sure,” Ben
replied.

“Loser buys
lunch.”

“Deal.”

An evil grin
sliced through Will’s cheeks. “At Hooters.”

“Okay,” Ben
laughed, setting the driver behind the ball and growing completely still.

A hawk screeched
off in the distance as the breeze slapped against Will’s slacks. As expected
this late in the season, the course was quiet, the fairway ahead a golden brown.
Ben waited for some leaves to dance past. The sun popped back out and Ben drew the
massive club-head back, swinging it down and crushing the ball with an
earsplitting
whack
.

Will’s grin
melted down his face like warm butter. “Good Lord almighty,” he muttered,
watching the ball sail through the air. It split the fairway and came to a
rolling stop near the three hundred yard marker. He turned to Ben. “I think
somebody’s sharking me.”

Ben grinned as
he holstered his cannon and jumped behind the wheel while Will hopped into the
passenger seat. “Hang on to your butts.” Ben popped the parking brake and
floored it. The golf cart sputtered into action.

“Whoa!” Will
cried, grabbing onto the window frame to keep from tumbling out. “You’re going
to spill my beer!”

Ben laughed and
slowed down, the wind in their face. “Sorry.”

They traversed
the rolling cart path, winding through a grouping of mature maples and birches.
Two birds zipped right in front of the cart, narrowly cheating death as they
chased each other across the undulating grounds.

“I can’t believe
this weather.” Will took a careful drink from his can of Corona and swallowed
with a happy sigh. “November!”

“Hell of an
Indian summer.”

Will set the sweaty
can into the cup holder and removed his ball cap, letting the wind run its
fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “Aren’t you hot with that coat on?”

Ben looked down
at the windbreaker, kicking himself for going with black. He had been so
concerned with making a good impression he hadn’t given it a single thought. It
was hot and sunny and his racing nerves weren’t helping any. If he failed to
impress Brooke’s dad it was game over. He just needed to buy a little more time
– a few weeks tops. By then, maybe Will could get past who he really was. The
fact that Brooke had told her parents anything about that night made him cringe.
He imagined telling his mother about that walk-in closet and shuddered at the
thought. She would have had him reading the bible in the closet by candlelight
for a month of Sundays.

Ben shook off
the pressure and smiled, feeling good about his chances with Will and
determined to enjoy the day.

Will pointed up
ahead, bouncing in his seat. “There I am!”

Ben pulled over
and brought the cart to a smooth stop.

Will stared down
at the half-buried ball peeking out from the second cut of grass. “Sonofabitch.”

Ben chuckled. “Man,
that thing is buried.”

Will pulled a
seven iron from the bag, grumbling under his breath, and didn’t waste any time
chopping the ball into the air. It landed on the green and rolled to within ten
feet of the cup. “Yes!” He pumped a fist through the air. “That’s how we do,
T-Bone!”

“Nice shot,” Ben
said, driving them over to his ball next.

“You must really
appreciate landscaping like this.”

Ben followed
Will’s gaze around the course, his brow folding.

“Owning your own
landscaping company and all.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ben
said a little too quickly. “They are some real pros out here. Way outta my
league.”

“Oh, I’m sure
you’re just selling yourself short, Tony,” Will stretched his back out against
the seat. “Hey, what kind of trees are those over there?”

Ben squinted at grouping
of tall trees with orange leaves as he bought the cart to a stop next to Will’s
ball, his heart hammering in his chest. “Those? Those are…uh, maples.” He
pressed the brake with his foot, making a ratcheting sound.

Will shook his
head like that was the wrong answer. “Always wanted one of those in our backyard.”

“Real pretty
trees in the fall.”

“They sure are.”

Ben got out and
pulled a pitching wedge from his bag. There was a light swoosh as the club head
scooped the ball from the fairway and softly set it three feet from the pen.

“Nice ball,
Tony!” Will took a long drink as Ben holstered his club and got back in the
golf cart. “How often do you play?”

Ben drove them
up to the green, the round flying by. “I try to get out once every week or so.”

“No offense, but
you don’t look like the golfing type.”

“No?”

Will shook his
head. “Your arms look too big, but you definitely have a certain
grace
with the ball.”

The breeze
washed over their faces as a Blue Jay cried out from a nearby oak. Ben stopped
the cart next to the peanut shaped putting green and mashed the brake to the
floor where it stuck.

Will took another
easy drink and stretched an arm along the back of Ben’s seat, in no hurry to
get out. “This is nice,” he said, taking in their surroundings.

“It really is.
Thanks for asking me to go.”

“Thanks for
going,” he said, toying with the can’s pull-tab. “I can’t pay Richie to go.”

“Maybe he’s not
big on golfing.”

“That’s the
thing,” Will said, twisting in the seat to face him. “He goes golfing all the
time with his buddies. In fact, I ran into them out here last month.” He turned
back to the green with dejected eyes. “It was all very awkward.”

“Maybe he’s
afraid he’ll beat you and then you’ll make Evy break up with him.”

“Well, you sure
don’t seem to share that fear.” he said, noting how much closer Ben’s ball was
to the hole than his. “I make a bigger deal out of it than it really is. Richie
just doesn’t want to hang out with the old man and that’s fine. He’s got a ton
of friends his age already.”

“I wouldn’t say
you’re
old
.”

“Kind of you to
say, T-Bone.” Will squinted at him for a moment. “How old are you anyway?”

“In dog years?”

Will’s mouth
opened but nothing came out at first. “Yeah, okay.”

“Four and a
half.”

A blackbird
landed on the green between their balls and picked at a dried leaf. Will watched
it, doing the math in his head. “Huh.”

Ben tugged on
the collar of his coat to let some heat escape. “Can’t believe it’s so nice
out,” he said, deliberately changing the subject and taking a long drink of
beer.

“Why don’t you
take that coat off?”

“Naw, I’m good.
I’m actually a little chilly.”

“Really? I just
felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back.”

Ben looked
around. “Won’t be long before this whole place is covered in white stuff.”

“Don’t remind
me. But you probably love the stuff.”

Ben stared at
him, hand resting on the wheel.

Will’s eyebrow
went crooked. “Pushin snow? Makin the big bucks?”

“Oh!” Ben said a
little too loudly, drawing some heads from two holes over. “Right. Well, long
hours but good pay.”

“I bet.” Will set
his can down and hopped out. He put his hands in the small of his back and
stretched his spine. There was a loud pop and then he unsheathed his putter.
“Guess I’m out again, huh?”

“That’s you.”

Will walked onto
the dried out green, scaring the blackbird away, and knelt down. He used his
putter to line up the shot, taking his time reading the green. “Can I ask you
something, Tony?”

“Yeah, go
ahead.”

“If there was
one thing you could change about Brooke, what would it be?”

Ben snorted, the
feeling of stumbling into a trap overwhelming his senses. Maybe Brooke was
right about him after all. He thought about it as he stepped onto the green,
putter in hand. “That she would like me as much as I like her.” Ben paused,
considering it further. “Or that she wouldn’t talk so much.”

Will stood back
up, his face as limp as the yellow flag atop the pole between them. Then he
laughed. “She does have a way with words. Just like her mother.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Same smart
mouth and gritty determination that drives me crazy. It’s a love/hate thing.”

“Did she give
you a hard time when you first met?”

“Hard time?”
Will laughed sharply, practicing his putting stroke. “I practically had to pay
her to go out with me. And when we finally did go out, we had a great time and
I still couldn’t get her to go out with me again.”

“Why is that?”

“Guess she wasn’t
quite convinced I was good enough for another date.” He set the putter behind
the ball. “Can you man the flag? I’m going to take a run at this.”

Ben grabbed the
flagpole and bent it back in the cup.

Will’s eyes followed
an invisible line to the hole. “I just hope to see you around more often, Tony.
I really do.”

“I’d like that.”

“If I don’t get
a win out here today, I’ll exact my revenge at the bowling alley. How’s that
sound?”

“You ever play
out at the Bass Pro Shop?”

Will stood all
the way up.
 
“Are you kidding? They have
great white shark heads for ball returns!”

“Their shooting
gallery is better than Adventureland’s.”

“We should go.”
Will hunched back over the ball. How about tomorrow?”

Ben shrugged.
“Sure.”

Will pulled the
putter back and firmly struck the ball. He watched it roll, eyes getting wider
as it neared the cup. “Come on, baby!”

The ball crested
a light mound and curved left. Ben pulled the flag and watched the ball come to
a stop just in front of the cup. It hovered over the edge for a split second
before dropping in with a soft
plunk
.

“Yes!” Will cried,
busting out another Tiger fist pump.

“Nice putt,
Will!” Ben dug the ball from the cup and tossed it back to him. “Bet you
couldn’t do that again in a hundred tries.”

Will caught the
ball, a heavy frown sliding down his face. “Hey, what was that on your wrist?”

Ben froze, heart
lurching into his throat. “What’s that?”

“Your wrist…
That green thing wrapped around it.”

Ben’s adrenaline
accelerated into overdrive, firing all pistons into explosive action. “Oh, that
was my watch.”

Will’s eyebrows
lowered. “Then what’s that on your other wrist?”

Ben glanced at
the chunky black watch peeking out from his coat sleeve. His pulse quickened
yet again. Terror bloomed in his gut. “My other watch.” He took off his cap and
wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead.

“You wear two
watches?”

“In case I lose
one.” He bent over his ball and lined up the putt, trying to act normal and praying
that would be the end of it.

Will scratched
his head. “Wow, you really like to know what time it is, don’t you?”

“I’m very
punctual.” Ben was about to strike the ball but Will’s heavy silence drew his
eyes.

Will pointed at
his wrist, the color draining from his face. “That was a tattoo, wasn’t it?”

Ben swallowed
dryly, dying for a long pull of his cold beer sitting in the golf cart which
now seemed so far away.

Will took a
tentative step closer, like he was walking on thin ice across the green. “Let
me see it.”