Page 51 of Resisting the Fall

“Great. I spent most of my time in Lakeview, but I dropped by the market here in Autumn Ridge. Three people stopped me to say they’d heard about our situation. Apparently, the Ednas are as efficient at spreading gossip as ever.”

Ben didn’t respond but just finished the rest of the broccoli. He then crunched through the raw carrots with an irritating loudness, downed the cinnamon-doused applesauce without flinching, and polished off all but one bit of the charcoaled sirloin, tossing the last piece to Finn. Finn smelled it but opted to leave it uneaten on the floor.

Smart dog.

Last, Ben picked up the piece of now soggy white bread. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t look away. An impulse I deeply regretted when, watching him consume it, I nearly gagged. Twice.

Once Ben finished, he leaned back in his chair, his long legs spreading out beneath the table and his hands resting across his midsection like he couldn’t have been more satisfied with the meal. “Thanks for dinner. That was… something else.”

I just smiled, refusing to feel discouraged that he seemed entirely unfazed by my efforts. “Want anything to drink?”

“Just water.” He quickly rose to his feet. “But I’ll get it. You’ve done so much already.”

When he filled his glass from the pitcher in the fridge, he swirled it, then inconspicuously sniffed it before taking a small sip.

The gesture had my smile returning. Ben was more on edge than he was letting on, and with the way he gulped down the rest of the glass, as if trying to rid his mouth of its most recent memories, my confidence grew.

Ready for my next surprise, I joined him in the kitchen, bringing the empty plate with me to set in the sink as bait.

“I can get that,” he said, exactly like I knew he would. Tom Walker never let his wife do the dishes if he was there and able, a habit Ben had acquired from his dad.

“Are you sure? I’m happy to⁠—”

“I’ve got it.”

I made room for him but didn’t go far. I wanted front row seats for this. “Oh, I was going to schedule an appointment with a marriage therapist,” I said, hoping to distract him just enough that he wouldn’t notice the rubber band wrapped around the nozzle handle of the side sprayer. “I figured we should probably get it over with. Is there a day and time that you’d prefer?”

“I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.” He placed his empty glass in the sink and pushed the faucet handle upward. Water shot out of the side sprayer with an impressive amount of pressure for a trailer, and by the time Ben realized what had happened and shut the water off again, his shirt was decently saturated.

Trying not to laugh was hopeless.

Ben’s gaze fixed on me. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

I nodded, unable to speak through my laughter.

He grabbed the sprayer and aimed it at me. “How about now?”

I froze, lifting my hands, but unable to control the intensity of my lingering smile. “Think about what a mess you’ll make if you turn the water on. It’ll be way bigger than the small one I caused.”

Ben considered my admonition, then gave a slow nod, allowing the cord of the sprayer to retract into its place near the faucet.

My shoulders relaxed. “That was wise of you⁠—”

Before I’d even finished my sentence, Ben flipped the sink handle, and a steady stream of water pelted into me. I squealed, putting up my hands to block the direct spray, and sprang toward him. In hindsight, moving away would have been the better strategy, because when I attempted to grab the nozzle, Ben wrapped his arm around me, holding the sprayer just out of my reach and drenching us both.

Finn joined in on the fun, barking and bouncing at our feet.

I was shielding myself from the attack by burying my face into Ben. “Turn it off!”

“I’m trying, but some genius rubber-banded the handle down and it’s hard to remove with one hand.” Clearly more concerned with my retaliation if he released me than the water still pouring out, Ben kept his hold on me and dropped the sprayer into the sink to turn off the faucet.

When the echoes of our laughter faded, we just stood there—Ben’s arm still wrapped around my waist, me pressed against him. Without water spraying and a battle for the nozzle to distract us, all I could think of was the pressure of his hand on me. The warmth of his skin. The way my body instinctively welcomed his touch. And wanted more.

Our eyes met, the smiles from our lips gone. My heart seemed to shift upward, blocking my airway from functioning normally and causing my chest to rise and fall in exaggerated motions.

Without warning, Finn gave a big shake, sending water flying through the small space. Ben and I turned away from the onslaught, which was thankfully enough to force us from the unfortunate slip into old habits.

Ben glanced around the kitchen. “What a mess.”