Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3) (9 page)

“
S
o I heard
you and Tripp are dating,” Kari Barefoot said as she set Ben’s sandwich down in front of him at Wren’s Diner.

Suddenly the small, homey diner with its kitschy checkered curtains and Formica tables became unbearably claustrophobic for Ben. He’d come to the quintessential Southern diner for lunch with John and Brian in an effort to get out of his office and stop thinking about what happened with Tripp over the weekend.

“Knocked me right over when he told me,” Kari continued. Ben barely heard her through the rushing sound in his ears.

“What?” John said, the picture of shocked indignation. “And you didn’t think you should tell us that?”

“I thought he was as straight as geometry,” Brian observed, pouring ketchup on his steak fries.

Ben sat there dumbfounded, staring at Kari. “What?” he finally croaked.

“Tripp said y’all was dating,” Kari repeated louder. That caused several tables full of people around them to go quiet and stare at him. “I was shocked too. I didn’t know he was gay.”

“He’s not gay,” Ben said, getting it together. “He’s confused. We are not dating.”

After Ben’s head had cleared Saturday night, he’d sent Tripp on his way with assurances that they were not a couple and were not dating just because they’d fooled around, and Tripp had gone without protest. Ben had assumed that was that. Tripp had tried it, it had gone well—which was an understatement that Ben was
not
going to dwell on—but it was a one off and Tripp had come to his senses.

Even when Tripp had called yesterday to see how Ben felt, Ben had pretended that he thought Tripp was asking about the aftereffects of the race and Tripp had let him. Obligatory day-after phone call out of the way, back to business as usual. But in typical Tripp fashion, he’d lulled Ben into a false sense of security and then lowered the boom with today’s hottest rumor in Mercury.

“Yeah, he said the first kiss didn’t go so well,” Kari said, nodding sagely. “But Wendy Pate said he must have been nervous because when she slept with him he was awesome.”

Ben slapped his fork onto the table after he unwrapped it from the napkin. “Good to know,” he said through clenched teeth with a stiff smile. “And I’m sure the next woman he sleeps with will be very happy.”

“Quit being such a jerk and tell us what’s going on with Tripp,” Brian said. “My entire courtship of Evan was discussed ad nauseum at Wren’s. It only seems fair that yours be treated the same.”

“I do not have a courtship,” Ben said clearly. “Tripp is young and misunderstood friendship for more. That’s it. He’s. Confused.”

“So he’s curious?” Kari said skeptically. “I’d think if that were the case he’d of hooked up with Evan or Carver before now. Right? Or one of these two.” She pointed at Brian and John.

“We were already taken,” John said. “But you’re right. It sounds like Tripp is smitten with our Ben.”

Ben shoved his chair back and stood up. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Coward,” Brian called after him as he escaped Wren’s.

Ben could feel all eyes on him as he ran away, which was a personal nightmare for him. He preferred to think of it as a tactical retreat rather than cowardice. There was nothing he hated more than being the center of attention.

What could Tripp be thinking to broadcast that all over town? It would be different if they actually were dating, but they weren’t. It was a lie. He slammed the car door as he got in. He’d brought Brian in his car, but his boss could damn well get a ride back with John, the pair of assholes. They knew Ben hated having his personal life on display.

He started the car and immediately hit the button on the steering wheel for Bluetooth. “Call Tripp Lanier,” he said. He was fuming as he pulled out of the parking lot while the phone rang.

“Tripp.” Was that laughter in his voice?

“What. The. Hell.” Ben said flatly.

“I guess that got around faster than I thought it would,” Tripp said. “Wait, did you eat at Wren’s? Is it lunchtime already? That explains it.” He didn’t sound upset at all.

“We are not dating,” Ben said. “Why on earth would you tell Kari that? And
Kari
? Really? One of the biggest gossips in town?”

“Her heart’s in the right place,” Tripp said. “She’s worried I’m making a mistake.”

“That’s because you are,” Ben told him, taking a corner a little too fast. He slowed down. “Look, Tripp, I told you the other night—we are not dating. We are not going to date. We are not going to sleep together. We’re not even going to see each other again.”

“Sure we are,” Tripp said. “We live in Mercury. My family is building the place where you work. Of course we’re going to see each other again.” He had a point, which just made Ben grind his teeth.

“Exactly how do you justify claiming that we’re dating?” Ben asked. “We’ve been waterskiing with your family, out to a bar with your friends, on a bike ride, and we did the Spartan Race together with Luke and Carver. How does that constitute dating?”

“You’ve been keeping track?” Tripp said in a pleased voice. “If you, or me for that matter, were a woman, would that be dating? Especially after what happened Saturday night.”

Ben caught himself as he was about to answer. His silence was damning.

“Exactly,” Tripp said. “I guess I should have known when I asked you to go waterskiing. I’ve never taken a girl to meet my mom. I mean, she knew some of them just from around town, of course. But I never took one out on the boat with my mom.”

“But you take Luke,” Ben said.

“Well, sure,” Tripp answered. “He’s my best friend.”

“When I went with you, I was nothing more than a friend,” Ben argued.

“Nah,” Tripp denied. “That was too personal, you know? I could’ve just asked you to go the bar with us.”

“You did ask me to go to the bar.” Ben tried again. “To fix me up with another guy, who
is
gay.”

“But I couldn’t go through with it,” Tripp said. “Remember? Now I know why I was jealous.”

“You’re certifiably insane,” Ben said. “We are not dating.”

“Plus,” Tripp said, “I wanted to stake my claim in case Carver wised up. I don’t want any competition.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Ben said, exasperated. “Do not call me again.”

“You called me,” Tripp told him. “I bet you got me on speed dial.” He did, but Ben wasn’t going to admit it. He’d only done that when he was going to Murrell’s Inlet in case he got lost. It didn’t mean anything. He used to have Papa John’s on speed dial back in L.A.

Ben heard voices in the background. “I’m talking to my boyfriend,” Tripp told someone. Ben heard somebody exclaim. “I don’t think you know him,” Tripp said. Then a pause. “Sure, you can tell Daddy.”

“Tripp, you are making this harder,” Ben said desperately. “Stop it. I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I believe in the power of positive thinking,” Tripp said. “Tony Robbins says something like that, right? When you make a decision, you’ve got to act on it. I’m acting on it.”

“Tony Robbins?” Ben asked, confused. “You mean the self help guy?”

“Yeah, him. Mama used to listen to his tapes all the time.”

Ben was back at Turnstiles and sat there in the car, trying to figure out what would dissuade Tripp from making a fool of himself. Everywhere he looked he saw guys working in the light blue polo shirts of Lanier Construction. “Tripp, even if you’re serious, even if you’ve suddenly decided to be gay—”

“It wasn’t a decision,” Tripp argued. “I just met you and it all fell into place.”

Ben wasn’t sure how to respond to that. After all, wasn’t that the sort of thing most people hoped to hear from someone one day? The sort of thing Roland had said in the beginning, seducing Ben into throwing away eight years of his life. Stealing all his decisions, railroading him into doing things Roland’s way until he’d forgotten he had a choice. His heart hardened.

“I’m not going there,” Ben said, suddenly angry. “You’ve made decisions for me too, by telling people those things, and I don’t let others make my decisions for me. Not anymore. I don’t want a boyfriend, Tripp, least of all you, and not here. When this job is finished, I’m going back to L.A. So don’t build pipedreams around me, country boy. This isn’t going to happen.”

“Uh oh,” Tripp said. “You just went somewhere in your head that you ought not to go. I told you the other night I wasn’t that guy.” Before Ben could blast him again, Tripp continued, “But you’re right. I did take the decision away from you, and that was wrong. So I’ll make the apology tour today, okay? I’ll straighten everyone out. You are not my boyfriend. Yet. But I want you to be.”

“Tripp,” Ben said, his anger dissipating as weariness took its place. “I’m not boyfriend material. My heart just isn’t in it.”

“You are exactly boyfriend material,” Tripp said. “Look, we don’t need to have this conversation over the speaker. Can I come over tonight?”

Ben sat straight up in his seat. “Absolutely not,” he said. He knew his weaknesses, and Tripp was definitely at the top of the list. He wasn’t going to put himself in that position. Again. He physically closed his eyes, as if that could banish the mental images of Tripp under him.

“Okay. Then you come over to my house,” Tripp offered.

“Is your mother going to be there?” Ben asked warily.

“Yep,” Tripp said. “Come for dinner. We’ll talk. She can chaperone your virtue.”

“My virtue was cast aside years ago,” Ben told him. “These days I’m trying to hold onto my sanity.”

“My mom isn’t much help with that,” Tripp said. “I’m texting you the address. Be there at six.”

“Wait—” Ben said, but Tripp had already hung up. Ben was going to have to talk to him about that. Not that they were going to be talking on the phone after tonight. He was going to set Tripp straight, literally.

M
rs. Lanier opened
the door at Ben’s knock. He’d arrived about ten minutes late, just so he didn’t seem too eager to see Tripp, but it wouldn’t be too rude to Tripp’s mother. A lot of thought went into that decision, so he was disappointed when she immediately told him, “Tripp’s not home yet. Something came up at a job site with some inspectors and he had to hightail it over there. But he told me I’m supposed to entertain you and not let you leave under any condition, so come on in and drink with me.”

“Hello, Mrs. Lanier,” he replied, frozen on the front porch, not sure what the right protocol was in this situation. If he said no, then it might hurt her feelings. She might be lonely home by herself. But if he agreed, then he was more or less promising he wouldn’t leave until Tripp got home.

“That bad, huh?” she asked sympathetically. “Just come on in and have some wine. Things always look better after wine. And it’s about time you called me Loreene.” She reached out and snagged his free hand and pulled him inside. She pried his fingers off the bottle of wine he held and tugged him after her as she walked back through the house. “Did you have trouble finding the place?”

“Surprisingly, no,” he answered as he looked around in awe at her house. He’d never expected to find a mansion in the middle of the tobacco fields around Mercury, but that’s what it was. A main house with two wings stretching off to either side, it would fit in on the streets of Beverly Hills. Maybe one of the smaller houses there, but ornate enough not to be an oddity.

And the inside was just as ostentatious and outrageous as the outside. Marble seemed to gleam everywhere, along with those mirrors that had veins of metallic gold running through them. The whole place seemed very Caesar’s Palace, but it wasn’t uncomfortably formal thanks to the carelessly tossed throws and books and personal items sitting around on the furniture and tables.

“I know,” Loreene said, clearly observing his reaction. “I went a little crazy with the decorator. I’m thinking of redoing it in a shabby chic, sort of country vibe. What do you think?”

“I don’t know what shabby chic is,” Ben told her, “but I’m sure it’s nice.”

He followed her into a huge kitchen that looked like it came straight out of a restaurant. The marble island top in the center of the kitchen was covered with food, some in the middle of preparation and some that looked like appetizers that were ready to eat. The whole room smelled delicious and Ben took a deep breath, finally relaxing.

“How can you be gay and not know what shabby chic is?” she asked. “I thought all you guys were born with the decorating gene.”

“I’m a mutant gay,” Ben told her. “Sorry. Maybe if you showed me a picture?” He was hungrily eyeing something that looked like mini biscuits.

“Have one,” she said, gently pushing the plate toward him. “They’re cheddar biscuits.” She blushed as she dusted some crumbs off the counter into her cupped palm. “I may have gone a little overboard. I don’t have guests that often. And I like to cook.”

Ben’s eyes crossed as he took a bite. The biscuits were flaky and buttery with a rich, creamy cheddar flavor. They were so good he had to pull up a barstool and grab another one. “These are amazing,” he told her. “My compliments to the chef. You are an artist.”

She laughed. “How else do you think I keep ’em coming back?” she asked. She turned on the oven light and peeked inside. “My cooking is the only thing that keeps Tripp under my roof.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Ben said. “But if he ever leaves and you need to rent his room, give me a call.”

“Done.” She opened a couple of drawers, searching for something, until she finally pulled out a wine opener. “Ta da,” she said with a flourish. “Let’s open this sucker.”

Ben snuck another biscuit while he watched her struggle a little with the opener. He’d learned from his mother not to offer assistance until it was requested. His mom had told him in no uncertain terms that she could do things for herself. Ben applied that lesson to all women, and he hadn’t gone wrong yet.

Tonight Loreene had on a black pair of cropped cotton pants and a loose-fitting black T-shirt that had a big, gold sequined crown right in the middle of it. Her hair was messy, but it looked good, like she’d deliberately arranged her blonde waves that way. Ben could see how a lot of men would find her irresistibly attractive even in the relaxed, casual outfit.

“I think Tripp stays here because he worries about you and wants to keep an eye on you,” Ben told her truthfully.

She looked up from pouring the wine, surprise on her face. “Do you? Well, that’s nice, I suppose. But nothing’s going to happen to me out here. Nobody around but family for miles, and a security system that I can recommend to Fort Knox.” She handed him a glass of wine. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he said. They clinked glasses and he took a sip. He’d gone with a fruity cab, and he was glad. It went well with the biscuits.

“My boy’s in love with you, you know,” she said, setting her wine glass down on the island.

Ben choked and grabbed the napkin she held out, coughing into it as his eyes watered. He shook his head, incapable of speech for the moment.

“You don’t think so?” Loreene asked. “Well, the parties involved are usually the last to know.”

“What…why would you think that?” Ben asked, his voice scratchy from choking.

“Well, there’s the fact he asked you to go waterskiing with us,” she said, ticking her reasons off on her fingers. “And you did the race with him, and he invited you over here to have dinner with us—he’s never done that before—and the rumors going around town, and, oh, yeah, he told me.” She took a sip of her wine and watched Ben carefully.

“He…he told you?” Ben asked incredulously. “Don’t you think that’s something he should have maybe run by me first?”

“That’s what I told him, but he said you were resisting the inevitable.”

“And this doesn’t strike you as strange, that not only does Tripp decide practically overnight that he’s gay, but that he’s in love with me?”

“Aw, hell,” she said dismissively, “we always figured he was probably gay.”

“What?” The evening had taken the most bizarre turn, and in desperation Ben grabbed another biscuit, hoping to get back to food and wine.

“He was never really interested in girls,” she said with a shrug. “Though God knows they were after him night and day. Shameless, really. Calling him all night long, driving over here and hollering up at his window. And that’s just what I saw. I’m sure he had it worse when his mama wasn’t around.”

She put on oven mitts and pulled a bubbling pie out of the oven. “But not once has he ever brought one over. He went to prom stag.” She set the pie down on a cooling rack and shook her head. “He wasn’t into singing and dancing or fashion, or any of those red flags. But still, by this time we figured he’d have found at least one girl to like if he was into that. Don’t you think so? And then you show up and he’s ass over teakettle.” She pulled off the oven mitts and tossed them onto the island. “So it wasn’t a shock in that respect when he told me. But, to be honest, I was surprised
you
were the one.”

“The one?” Ben asked. His heart was hammering and he wiped his sweaty palms on the napkin he held.

“You know.
The
one. And it’s not for the reason you’re thinking.”

“Because I’m average-looking?” Ben asked wryly.

“I’d give you a couple points above average,” she said seriously. “No. I’m surprised because you’re an outsider. And Tripp is as Southern as the day is long. The thought of leaving Mercury makes him sick in the head and the stomach. But I can’t see you staying. Are you gonna stay for my boy, Ben?”

Ben ignored her observations about Tripp. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell her Tripp dreamed about leaving Mercury. “I’m going back to L.A.,” he said with a sinking heart. “When my job is done here, I’m going back to L.A.” He’d meant to say
home
, but somehow he just couldn’t call it that right now, which produced its own special brand of panic.

“Then I guess we’re in for some rough water,” she said. She opened up a second oven directly underneath the first and pulled out a roast chicken that looked delicious. She set it down and turned to face Ben. “I know you have feelings for him because you don’t seem like the kind of guy to lead someone on. Right?”

“Okay. Yes,” Ben finally admitted. “I have feelings for him. But there’s a lot more to consider.” Ben slipped down from the barstool. “I’ve told him repeatedly that I don’t want to get involved, mainly because I’m going back to L.A. But he refuses to listen. Maybe you can get him to accept it.”

“Maybe.” She went back to bustling around the kitchen. “But he comes from very stubborn stock. My guess is he’s going to keep beating his head against the wall until you leave. I suppose there’s no way he’s going to get out of this without a broken heart.” She turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. “I’m not blaming you. It’s the sort of thing we do in this family.” She smiled at him, wiping her hands. “You know, the first time I saw his daddy, I knew he was the one. I guess Tripp is just like me.”

“Maybe I should go,” Ben said, feeling guilty and confused.

“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “I spent all day cooking this meal and I won’t have it go to waste. I like you, you know. You like shopping? For clothes and stuff?”

“I hate shopping,” Ben said.

“Damn. So much for stereotypes,” she said with a sigh.

“Are we talking about clothes for you or for me?” Ben asked. He slid back up on his barstool.

“Me, of course,” she said.

“So I could just sit around and sip a Starbucks and nod when you asked my opinion?” Ben teased.

“Yep,” she said. “That’s more than I get from Tripp or his daddy.”

“Well, I guess I could do that,” Ben conceded. “But the Starbucks is mandatory.”

With a laugh, she came back over and topped off his glass of wine. She laughed almost as much as Tripp. “Good. That’s settled. Now, let’s get back to drinking and you can tell me what it’s like to be gay. I figure I got to study up now that Tripp’s finally figured it out. Or we can just gossip. I’m good either way.”

“How long until Tripp gets home?” Ben asked, looking longingly at the door.

“I don’t know, but if he doesn’t get home soon, we’re going to eat all this food ourselves,” she told him. Ben perked up at that and she laughed again.

A
s soon as
Tripp opened the door, he could hear his mama and Ben laughing in the kitchen. He smelled her roast chicken and pie and biscuits, and his mouth watered. He didn’t think life got any better than it was right this minute. Then he followed his nose to the kitchen and saw the two of them together at the island, drinking wine and eating, and he knew he’d been wrong. He wanted that every day, Ben in his house.

Ben noticed him first. “Hey,” he said. He blushed and took a sip of his wine, looking away from Tripp.

Tripp tried not to gloat at his reaction. Ben had played off what happened at his house the other night. Today on the phone it seemed like he was trying to convince himself instead of Tripp that they weren’t dating. But Tripp could be patient—up to a point. After all, Ben was still planning on going back to L.A. Luckily there was still a lot of work to be done at the data center and the foundation was nowhere near up and running. Hell, half the business park still had to be built. Which meant Tripp could work it out to visit there, in an official capacity of course, almost every day. He’d wear Ben down eventually.

“Hey,” he said back, keeping it casual. “Hey, Mama,” he added, walking over and kissing her cheek.

“You’re late,” she said. “But we saved a couple of biscuits for you.”

“Liar,” he said. “I can smell another batch in the oven.”

“Can’t put anything past you,” she said with a laugh, climbing down off the barstool. She walked over and opened up the oven, pulling out a sheet of biscuits. While she was over there and Ben wasn’t looking, Tripp slid onto the barstool she’d vacated beside Ben. When Ben saw him there, he did a double take.

“That’s your mom’s seat,” he said.

“Was,” Tripp said. “But she usually likes to sit closer to the oven when she’s got something cooking.”

“That’s true,” she called back, sliding the biscuits from the hot tray into a basket. “I sat beside you so we could talk easier.”

“I see what you’re doing,” Ben said to her. “It’s not going to work.”

“Well, I’m not gonna work against him either,” she said, winking at Ben.

Tripp took pity on him and got up to get a beer from the fridge. “Want one?” he asked.

Ben pointed to a glass of wine. “I’ve already got a drink. Thanks.”

“Wine drinker, huh?” Tripp said. “That’s a point against.”

“If I rack up enough points against, does that mean you’ll leave me alone?” Ben sipped his wine.

“Nope,” Tripp said, popping the top off a bottle of pale ale from a brewery in Ashville. “I’ll just keep trying until I find a beer you like and I find a wine I like. See? Compromise.”

Ben sighed. “I already like beer,” he admitted. “I just brought the wine for dinner. But I do like wine,” he assured Tripp’s mom as she started to protest.

Tripp turned to his mom. “Point me in the right direction. The man’s hungry and so am I. What can I do to help get it ready?”

“Why don’t you cut the chicken? And Ben, you can carry our drinks over to the table and then come on back and grab these biscuits.”

“If I eat another biscuit I’m going to look like one,” Ben complained good-naturedly as he walked over and took Tripp’s beer.

“I’ll take you on a bike ride tomorrow that will burn every biscuit right off you,” Tripp promised.

“We’ll talk about it after dinner,” Ben said firmly.

“That sounds ominous,” his mom warned. “Better watch out, Tripp. He means business.”

“So do I,” Tripp promised. Ben turned to walk back from the table, and their eyes met. Tripp only hoped he looked as determined as Ben.