Battling Ben: Love in Little River Book Seven Page 3

  Another order popped up on the screen above his grill, and he listened to Addy chat about the dinner that he’d missed the night before while he set to work on the new order. June’s old assistant was in town visiting, and Addy thought Ben really should have met her.

  He found himself wishing again that he had a chance with “Jane” from Laramie. He couldn’t help but think it would solve a lot of problems. She’d been fun and easygoing, chill about moving to Little River—was already planning on it, by the sounds of it—and he could officially send Marissa packing when he had a wife to run the diner with. Not that he planned on making his wife take the night shift like Addy did, but he assumed they’d work out all those logistics later.

  He barely noticed that Marissa came back into the kitchen and that Addy pulled her back into the small office that Jerry used to do the bookkeeping. “Of course. You know I’m happy to,” he heard Marissa say, excitement in her voice.

  She’ll do a good job, he told himself. With Addy jetting back and forth between Wyoming and Europe, they didn’t have much of a choice.

  Ben reached for his phone, thinking about Jane. He wanted to message her again, figure out some way to convince her to give him a chance. Maybe he should ask if she was married or in a serious relationship, just to make sure that wasn’t what held her back. He’d message her again tonight. Low-key, not too pushy. Maybe Addy could even help him come up with a strategy.

  He had to get his diner back. Addy wouldn’t be able to say no to Ben taking over everything once he was married and had someone to run it with him. Finding a woman like Jane to settle down with was his best chance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Marissa leaned into the corner of the back booth, the one least used even at peak dining times. She had checked on all her diners, and no new ones had come in. It was Tuesday, one of the slowest days of the week. Plus Hallie’s new show was on Tuesday nights, and pretty much all of Little River stayed home to watch it. Last month she’d talked Ben into doing a takeout special for Tuesday nights in honor of Hallie. It had done pretty well, and the delivery people in town had been in and out all night. Addy had gushed over how well they’d done for Tuesdays, and even Ben had grudgingly nodded over Jerry’s shoulder as they looked at the numbers.

  She looked up once more at the door, maybe willing another customer to come in so she wouldn’t feel guilty about the fifty words she’d typed on her phone since sitting down. She had a tablet with a keyboard in her purse in the back, but she didn’t want to give anyone in this town any hints about her true identity. Not that they would guess she was Breann Anderson from seeing her type on a tablet, but it would lead to questions, and she didn’t want to lie to keep her secret. Better they think she was addicted to texting.

  A notification popped up on the top of her screen, from the LoveHunt app. She’d turned the notifications on the night she was talking to Ben, and apparently, she hadn’t turned them off. Why had she turned them on in the first place?

  She set her phone down. The conversation with him had been intriguing. His banter was so unlike the man she knew at the diner that she couldn’t help but keep it going to see what flirty thing he said next. And the conversation hadn’t even been that flirty.

  She looked up at the door again. Even though she’d checked on all her customers not five minutes before, she got up, stuffed her phone in her pocket, and made the rounds again before she sat back in the booth and opened up her mobile word processing app again.

  The knowledge of that notification made all the words fly out of her brain.

  Yeah, she was going to go with that.

  She opened the LoveHunt app and clicked on her chats. It was, indeed, from Ben. If this is too pushy, feel free to ignore me, but I’ve thought a lot about how fun our conversation was the other night. He’d added a cringing emoji and the one with the monkey covering his eyes. He emoji-ed like her mom, and that was kind of … adorable. There was another one right underneath it. I have to ask. Are you married? Or in a serious relationship?

  She should tell him yes. Happily married with four darling children she was spoiling with all that money she’d made and was now retired with. Then he would stop thinking about their kind of flirty conversation, and she wouldn’t have to think about how appalled he’d be to find out he was chatting with the person he disliked most in the world.

  I’m not married. Or in a serious relationship, her fingers typed. Then they hit send.

  She had to hop up out of the booth again. She’d suddenly become twitchy. Why had she sent him that? Why was she prolonging the misery? Because say that this flirty thing they had going progressed. And say that they kept having flirty conversations. Eventually he would want to meet her, right? Because it said right on his profile that he was looking to get married.

  She stopped by table six. “Does anyone need ref—”

  “No, thanks.” The woman put her hand over the mouth of her glass, as though Marissa was going to force the refill on her. “If I drink any more Coke tonight, I’ll never get to sleep.”

  Marissa looked hopefully at the man with her. He glanced at his own glass—still halfway full—and then at the woman. “No, thanks,” he said.

  Marissa tried table three. But the father who had brought his three little girls out to eat had his credit card in the tablet on the table, tapping out a tip amount. She shifted aside so it didn’t look like she was snooping. “Can I get you anything to go?” she asked. Her phone buzzed, and she hopped a little, then cringed at herself.

  “We’re good. Thanks.” The man smiled awkwardly at her, tilting the tablet a bit to ensure she didn’t see what he was tipping her.

  She quickly backed away. She stopped into the kitchen, asking Jerry for a plate of fries—to settle her nerves. The man had tipped her very well, so she wasn’t sure what his deal had been. She retreated to her booth. She didn’t bother with pretense. She opened right back up to the LoveHunt chat.

  Can we talk? Get to know each other? Maybe it will be good research … Ben had typed.

  Even though Ben was at home, winding down and getting ready for his nine-o’clock bedtime (Addy joked about his early bedtime all the time), Marissa glanced back at the kitchen contemplatively. Maybe getting to know Ben like this wouldn’t be a bad thing. He’d barely spent half an hour total talking to her since she’d started working here. Maybe getting to know him better, without the baggage of their current relationship, would help. Plus, he was right. It was great character research.

  She stuffed her phone back in her pocket, even though she should be using this time to eke out words. She couldn’t answer him without thinking the whole thing through. The tablet in her apron buzzed, likely Jerry letting her know that her fries were ready. She’d consider it over fries, even though she should be considering her manuscript.

  Pshh. Jolene was always telling her that she needed brain breaks. Coming up with a pro-and-con list on whether she should catfish Ben was the perfect break.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ben pushed himself harder as he neared the top of the trail. He wished it was some kind of sense of victory in reaching his goal that drove him, but it was all about being done. Exercise was something to check off his list, and getting out into the mountains was the best-case scenario if he had to exercise. Given where he worked and all the good, tempting food that he made all day long, he had to exercise.

  Today his mind had been on Jane and how long it had taken her to agree to chatting to get to know each other. Long enough that he’d been in bed and hadn’t seen her message until he’d gotten up this morning to head to the diner. And it was only one word: Sure.

  He’d caved and texted his sister right before bed, wanting someone to help him interpret the short conversation. Addy had felt sure that if Jane hadn’t wanted to continue chatting with him, she would have said so when he asked about her being in a relationship. Or she would have answered a lot quicker when he asked to continue chatting to get to know her. It’s a good sign she
didn’t shut you down right away.

  Maybe she just feels bad, Ben had countered.

  Addy had sent a shrugging emoji. Maybe. But your profile is clear about how you want a serious relationship only and that you’re set on staying in Little River. It’s also possible she’s taking that seriously in her answer. Either way, the fact that she’s giving it consideration is a point in her favor. And yours.

  Yeah, he’d said to himself. Jane had said that Little River was one of her retirement considerations. He should have clarified in his message that there were no strings attached to his message. Just talking. Just getting to know each other.

  Was it possible she felt like there was the chance of more between them, like Ben hoped?

  He crested the top of the hill and jogged to a stop at the lookout area. This trail wasn’t that high—Ben wouldn’t be running it if it was—but it looked out on a small valley with a handful of roofs peeking out from the trees, some newer than others. The popularity of Little River meant more people seeking property up here, and the few gems people could find in the mountains went for high prices. Addy told Ben that June had suggested investing in properties if they could for rental or guest house income. Addy and Tristan had bought a few, and she had Ben thinking about the investment as well. The diner was doing well enough that he could consider it.

  His phone dinged with several messages. The lookout was high enough to get back into cell service after being out of it for most of the trail. He pulled out his phone as he walked around the lookout, not yet prepared for the jog back down.

  It was a group message that Addy had created between herself, Ben, and Marissa. He stuffed down annoyance at opening a text in there. It made sense that they all communicate, but he couldn’t help the pinpricks of unease at Marissa being included in something that should be between family. As he looked out at the cabins below him, he wondered if she thought of the diner like any other investment property in Little River. But it was so much more than that to him. No amount of money would make him give up his family’s legacy.

  Can we set a time next week to meet up and talk about Marissa’s ideas for the party? Before Tristan and I leave town, Addy had texted them both.

  Let me talk to Mrs. Roberts and see which nights she could cover for me, Marissa said. Addy had sent a thumbs-up, and a about an hour later, Marissa had replied. She says she’s good for whatever night we need.

  Ben checked his calendar before responding with the two nights that were best for him, then turned his music back on and headed back down the trail, pondering what he was going to ask Jane first.

  * * *

  By the time he got home, Addy and Marissa had suggested a date and time, and Ben agreed, adding it to his calendar. He stayed in his shorts and T-shirt but switched out his trail-running shoes for a pair of regular tennis shoes and headed over to his parents’ condo. When they’d decided to buy their fifth-wheel trailer and tour the country, they’d sold their house to Addy and downsized to a one-bedroom place in a new retirement community in town. He checked in on it every couple weeks while they were gone, and he wanted to make sure everything was good for them to come home next month.

  It was hot out, but Ben decided to walk anyway. He liked to enjoy the summer days in Little River. Summer never seemed to last quite long enough. He pulled out his phone and opened the LoveHunt app. He’d agonized over what to ask long enough.

  No pressure, he typed. I’d understand if you don’t want to, but any chance I can know your real name?

  It took a few minutes to get an answer, of course. Most people weren’t off in the middle of the afternoon like him. Unless she was already retired.

  Breann. Then a second message popped up as he paused to cross Main Street. I feel like this is mostly Ben getting to know Breann. Everything about you is already in your profile. ;)

  You caught me. Next, what do you do for a living? Or what DID you do for a living before you retired?

  No dots popped up, so he continued to his parents’ house. The condos were set up in duplex- and fourplex-style townhomes. They were built by the same construction company that had built the townhome Ben lived in, so the style was similar. Ben’s parents’ was one level, and they’d spent a little extra to be in a duplex. Everything looked good on their side of the yard—the grass was green, so the sprinkler system was working, and the yard had been mowed.

  He let himself in by the front door and paused in the entryway when his phone buzzed. Not technically retired yet. I’m a writer, Breann had written.

  If she was retiring at such a young age, that meant she’d done well. Really well. What do you write? he asked.

  Dots bounced across the screen and disappeared for a minute or so. Ben didn’t think it was that difficult of a question until she said, I’m not sure I want to say.

  He grinned. Romance, then. The dirty kind?

  No! she answered immediately. Then, Not that there’s anything wrong with the people who write books like that. Romance is a best-selling genre, FYI. Made billions last year. Billions. With a B.

  Ben sent multiple laughing emojis so she’d know he was kidding around. I never said anything was wrong with it.

  You implied I’d be embarrassed to write it.

  He dropped onto the couch in the front room and clicked out of LoveHunt, going to a browser and heading to the Amazon website, filtering his search to books, and typed in Breann. His eyes widened when the top name came up. Could he be chatting with Breann Anderson? Addy loved her books. They’d made at least three into movies, and at the last dinner Addy had gotten him to come to, she’d been talking to Hallie about another one being optioned. Hallie had all the details, so Addy was hanging on every word of insider knowledge.

  He swallowed. No wonder she was on some dating app under a fake name. How many people would be pinging her profile if they knew who she was?

  Let me guess, he messaged when he got back into the LoveHunt chat. You write historical fiction.

  How did you know that …?!

  He chuckled. Amazon search and some deductive reasoning. Also, my sister is obsessed with your books.

  The dots danced for a lot longer this time before the answer came through. Can we backtrack so I can pass on the part where I tell you my name? Or what I do?

  Ben smiled but sobered up. He should have never pushed her to get to know him. Yeah, he’d assumed that “Jane” hadn’t wanted a relationship for way different reasons than being famous. But he should’ve respected it despite his assumptions.

  We can stop chatting and I’ll promise not to say anything to anyone. Cross my heart. I shouldn’t have pushed when you made it clear you didn’t want a relationship. My only excuse is that it didn’t cross my mind that your alias was for your safety.

  There was no immediate answer and no dots, but Ben tried not to read into it. He got up from the couch and began walking through rooms, focusing on the kitchen and the bathrooms, making sure nothing was leaking. Everything looked good, so he headed back out again into the warm day.

  He was almost back to his house before Breann answered. No, you asked politely, and I said yes. This just isn’t a scenario I imagined happening. I enjoyed our conversation too. So I have one caveat if this continues.

  Name it, he replied.

  You pretend like you don’t know anything about Breann Anderson.

  Ben shrugged to himself. He hadn’t read any of the books or seen the movies. He only recognized the name because of Addy, but he wasn’t about to tell Breann that. She might not want the recognition here, but he didn’t want to shoot down her ego on purpose.

  I can totally do that. He hurried up the steps into his air-conditioned house. But should he, he wondered. His goal was to find someone to marry, to move here and run a diner with him. Breann Anderson was looking to retire to a quiet life. It wouldn’t hurt to do something just for fun for once.

  That’s what he told himself.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ben stopped asking question
s later that evening. He even joked about his bedtime and how he had to get up early for the diner. The conversations were fun. He stuck to lighthearted information after accidentally discovering who she was—her favorite foods, hobbies, best vacation—and he returned with answers to every question she asked him.

  Ben knew who she was.

  That thought had popped into her head every time she had a minute or two that evening to look at the chat. Of course, he didn’t know that the night manager, Marissa Anderson, was the same person as Breann Anderson, but his sister did. And if he told her, the gig would be up. What would Ben do when he found out it was her chatting with him? That he was confessing to enjoying conversations with her, Marissa? He already thought she had an ulterior motive to everything she did here at the diner. He’d read way more into this for sure.

  She plopped back onto her bed at the cottage and stared at the ceiling. What had she gotten herself into?

  She rolled over and reached for her laptop. Her mind was buzzing, so she wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. She might as well try to get some words in. She propped herself up against the headboard and went to work with secrets and betrayal on her mind.

  * * *

  Despite being up late writing, Marissa set her alarm for seven a.m. For the first time in weeks, she’d written down a page’s worth of bullet points for the next few scenes. These sections had way too much in common with her real life at the moment, but she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. No matter the early hour, she wanted to write while her ideas were still fresh.

  About an hour before she needed to leave for the diner, she called Mrs. Roberts to fill in for her. When she’d taken this job, Marissa had been honest with Addy about her writing, and in turn they’d told Mrs. Roberts that Marissa had another job she might need to focus on from time to time. She’d only ended up using that excuse a handful of times, so she didn’t feel bad for it today. She knew better than to break a writing zone when she got into it.