Exes With Benefits

  I didn’t know what I was going to do or what I was going to say to him when these couple days were up. It was easier to pretend there was no expiration date or no unsigned paperwork or no split ownership of an estate. It was simpler to pretend we were nothing more than a couple of kids again, with responsibilities in the “few and far between” category.

  My brushes were just starting to run clear in the back utility sink when I heard the familiar sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs of the garage apartment. Despite Canaan and I spending every night together since the one at the pond, moving between his bed and mine here, he was still living out of the apartment. Showering there, keeping his clothes and toothbrush there, giving me the space he seemed to know I needed.

  Rushing to finish with my brushes, I turned off the water and slid out of the apron I’d thrown on to keep my dress clean from paint streaks or splatter. I hadn’t planned on starting a brand-new project less than an hour before Canaan was set to pick me up for our afternoon plans, but creativity could not be scheduled or tamed. You had to let it do its thing when it struck.

  Creativity. That had been another unexpected side effect of being back. Or, if I were to give credit where it was properly due, being back with him. It was on overload, hitting me in the middle of the night, forcing me out of bed to return to a painting or start a new one. I’d finished more pieces in the past few weeks in Farmington than I had the last six months in Chicago.

  I’d thought Farmington would stifle the creativity, if not the life, right out of me. Instead, it was doing the total opposite.

  By the time his boots were echoing up the porch stairs, I’d finished sliding into my shoes and was grabbing my purse from the table. I raced to the door, managing to pull it open right as he was about to knock.

  He lowered his arm, grinning when he saw me. “It’s not fair for you to look this good,” he said, his hand motioning at me.

  I glanced down. I’d thrown on a light floral dress from my teen days and a pair of strappy sandals. I certainly didn’t look rough, but I wasn’t sure I’d place my overall look in the damn! category. Especially with the messy bun held together by a single bobby-pin on top of my head.

  “You already got to be Miss Wheat Princess. Let some other girl enjoy the honor.” Canaan stepped aside so I could come out, his eyes still wandering over me in ways that made leaving the privacy of a house and the convenience of a nearby bed extremely unappealing.

  “Okay, I’m not sure whether to slug you for bringing up that sore subject for the millionth time, or thank you for the compliment.” After closing and locking the door, I turned around to find him right in front of me.

  His hand skimmed back a few misplaced strands of my hair, his grin deepening when he saw something on my cheek. Wetting his thumb, he returned it to my face, circling my cheek. “You’ve been painting again.”

  I tried to pretend my heart wasn’t racing from having him so close and wiping the paint splatter from my face with his fingers.

  “You gotta make hay while the sun shines.”

  His arm moved behind my back as he headed down the steps. “I can’t imagine where all of this fresh inspiration is coming from.” His hip nudged mine. “Got any ideas?”

  “I think it’s the fresh air. The change of scenery.” I glanced around at the landscape, keeping a straight face. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “You’ve got your theories. And I’ve got mine,” Canaan grumbled under his breath, swinging his truck door open for me.

  As he moved around the front of the truck, I checked my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed any calls or texts from Mindy while I’d been tuned out in my painting bubble. I had a show in two weeks at a well-known gallery in Wicker Park, and another a week after that in a gallery in The West Loop. It was going to be a busy fall.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?” Canaan asked as he slid behind the steering wheel. “I mean, when was the last Miss Wheat Princess crowning you’ve been to?”

  My nose crinkled. “The same one I was crowned at.”

  Canaan chuckled as he backed out of the driveway. “You make that sound like such torture.”

  “It was.”

  “Then why did you agree to go today if you’re emotionally scarred for life from the very event we’re heading toward?” He didn’t wait for my answer; he still turned down the road toward the fairgrounds where the Farmington County Fair was kicking off.

  “Because it’s not just about the Miss Wheat Princess crowning. There’ll be rides. And animals. And elephant ears.” I glanced at him. “And since this was your idea, you’re buying me two elephant ears. And a corn dog.”

  He forced a wince. “Breaking the bank on me tonight, Church.”

  There it was again. My maiden name. For someone who’d been so adamant at first about making it a point that, legally, my last name was still Ford, he seemed to have dropped that policy.

  “Why are you calling me that now?”

  Canaan glanced over, his forehead creased.

  “Church. My maiden name.”

  His hands slid down the steering wheel. “I thought that’s what you wanted. That’s what you go by up in Chicago, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but legally, my last name still is Ford.”

  His shoulder lifted as we turned onto the highway. “The law might see you as a Ford, but you see yourself as a Church. I’m one of the few smart men who knows better than to argue the state’s law versus woman’s law.”

  “You weren’t so enlightened when I first arrived.”

  “And all I got was you glaring at me like you were fantasizing ways to have me castrated.” He nudged my leg. “I’m a quick learner. And I like my balls. Want to keep them attached to my body.”

  My head shook as I rolled down the window. For August, it was an unseasonably cool day. “Men and their equipment. I’ll never understand it.”

  “You seem to understand it just fine when my ‘equipment’s’ working between your thighs.”

  My mouth dropped at the same time I slugged his arm. “Too far, Ford.”

  He was still grinning out the windshield, barely flinching when I slugged him again. “The truth hurts.”

  “Three,” I announced as the fairgrounds came into view up ahead. “That just cost you three elephant ears.”

  “Sweet. The more sugar I put in you today, the more energy you’ll have for tonight.”

  “And yet wouldn’t it be ironic if low blood sugar put me right to sleep the moment you got me home?”

  Canaan whipped the truck into the parking lot, bouncing down the uneven earth in search of a spot. “Ironic? Damn, woman, that’s not ironic. That’s tragic.”

  By the time he’d found a free parking spot, I felt like my insides had been jellified from hitting every dip, bump, and pothole in the lot. The necklace Canaan had given back to me at Grandma’s funeral had managed to pop out from inside my dress, but I decided to keep it out.

  After climbing out of the truck, Canaan took my hand and we started toward the entrance gates. “Have you decided yet what you’re going to do with the house?”

  His tone, same as his expression, gave nothing away, but I knew this was his way of asking if I knew what in the hell I was going to do with my life when our month came to an end in two days.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do with the garage and apartment yet?”

  His neck rolled. “Touché.”

  I chuckled as we stopped at the ticket booth, and while Canaan took care of our tickets, I considered his question. What was I going to do with the house? Could I sell it? Setting aside the sentimental aspect of letting it go, I wasn’t sure about the legalities of selling it when Canaan technically owned the garage. I couldn’t help questioning for the thousandth time why my grandma had set it up that way. What had been her reason behind splitting her house between two people who weren’t on speaking terms at the time she must have made the change to her will?

  It couldn’t have be
en a random whim—Grandma didn’t do random—and it couldn’t have been a bout of senility, because she’d stayed sharper than I was. She had a reason. I just wasn’t sure I ever would know it.

  “Where to first?” Canaan asked, handing me my admission ticket.

  I tsked. “Like you even need to ask.”

  “Food row it is.”

  After handing our tickets over, we moved inside the fairgrounds. It was the first day of the fair, which meant everyone in the Farmington city limits had closed down shop and was here, milling around the exhibits and vendors.

  “Rachel and Brian are here. She asked me to text her when we got here so we could link up.”

  Canaan reached for my hand digging around in my purse for my phone. “We’re not here yet though.”

  “What? You don’t like them?”

  “I like them fine. But I really like you, and I’m feeling especially selfish today.” His arm swung behind my neck, pulling me to him. “I don’t feel like sharing.”

  “Since when have you ever been good at sharing?”

  His eyes shone as we milled through the crowd. “Exactly. And why start now?”

  After making a stop on food row to grab the first of my gluttonous number of elephant ears for the day, we spent the next hour wandering the grounds, checking out the animal exhibits and 4-H shows. I was good with delaying linking up with Rachel and Brian. Not because I didn’t enjoy their company, but because Canaan was right—I enjoyed our company so much more. And like he did, I recognized that our time was drawing to an end. Soon.

  Canaan checked his watch, his arm still stationed around me. “It’s three. Time to head to the main stage.” When I groaned, he took a quick detour toward the elephant ear stand. “Here. This will ease the pain.”

  “It’s a start,” I grumbled.

  I ripped off a hot, doughy corner as we headed toward where the rest of the world was. There were a good dozen girls on the stage, holding their smiles just right, their hands clasped in front of them, answering a few simple questions as the announcer moved down the line.

  “Déjà vu moment,” I muttered as Canaan stopped us behind the main crowd.

  Canaan’s arm thrust toward the stage. “Just look at how happy they all are. Dreams of being crowned Wheat Princess dancing in their eyes.”

  I blinked at him. “You’re dead to me.”

  He huffed that off, pretending to be enraptured by the obscene rigmarole taking place on stage.

  “At least it isn’t ninety-eight degrees and seventy percent humidity like the day I stood up there on trial.” I tore off a chunk of my hush money and lifted it to his mouth. He sank his teeth into it and managed to suck the tips of my fingers into his mouth at the same time. Damn. I’d never look at an elephant ear the same way again. “I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West up there, steaming and melting.”

  “Don’t forget the cackle.”

  My head turned toward him, a brow raised. “Shall I call my flying monkeys?”

  Canaan chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender before grabbing my hips and pulling me toward him. He tucked me in front of him, settling his head over mine as his arms tied around my stomach.

  At first, people seeing us together like this had caught us some serious side-eye, if not a full-on gape. Anyone who’d lived here back when we were kids knew the story of Canaan Ford and Maggie Church. It was like one of those stories a person told their kids at night—no shortage of fairy tales and cautionary warnings based on which part of our story they’d chosen to tell.

  It had only been a couple of weeks since Canaan and I started being open about whatever this was. Neither of us could assign it a title. Despite that, no one seemed to pay us much attention anymore. Almost like they’d been expecting us to get back together all along.

  The announcer up front was reading off the top three candidates, cheers rising from the crowd, when I heard my name being called from behind. Canaan heard it too.

  “Oops. Rachel. She spotted us.” I wove out of Canaan’s arms and waved back at her before cutting through the crowd. “We just got here,” I whispered back at him. “Like, literally just got here.”

  “Hey, I’m on your side. Remember?”

  Rachel wasn’t with Brian, but I could tell from the look on her face that something was up. She was smiling and trying to act all natural, but her eyes looked like she’d just been chased by a pack of wolves or something.

  “Hey, Rach.” I gave her a questioning look since Canaan was behind me. Girl code for “What the hell is going on?”

  She didn’t say anything though. The only answer she gave was her eyes moving to Canaan and holding there for a moment. Okay, so it had something to do with him.

  The options were limitless.

  “Where’s Brian?” I peeked around, but there was no sign of him.

  “Oh, chatting with a new friend. That’s all.” Her dismissive wave edged into frantic territory.

  “We just got here,” Canaan announced behind me, bumping against me. “We were literally just about to call you.”

  Rachel didn’t hear him from the looks of it. “Can I speak with you for a moment?” She had already grabbed my wrist and was pulling me off to the side. When Canaan followed, Rachel whipped up a palm at him. “Co-dependency. It’s an ugly thing, Ford. And I’m not about to let my friend become a victim of it.” She kept her hand up, pulling me away some more.

  Canaan sighed but stayed where he was.

  “What is the matter?” I asked, my eyes circling around like there were no less than ten threats coming at us.

  “Guess who Brian and I just ran into?” Rachel looked back at Canaan to make sure he was staying in place.

  “I don’t know. Hopefully a psychologist who can prescribe something for your sudden bout of paranoia?”

  She frowned. “Does the name Reed McAllister ring a bell, wiseass?”

  My body went numb all at once. “Tell me you’re not being serious.”

  Rachel’s finger circled her face. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is my most serious, I’m-not-fucking-with-you face.”

  “Reed’s here?” I moved closer so I could whisper. “That isn’t possible.”

  “Let’s see. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Looked like he was sculpted by clay from the gods.” Rachel knocked against my forehead before I could push her hand away. “Yeah, your real life General Hospital doctor is here, my friend. And he’s looking for you.”

  My ears heard everything she’d said, but my head couldn’t make sense of it. Reed was in San Francisco, at his all-important new job. Reed and I had broken up. Yeah, he’d called that one day to apologize and attempt some pathetic kind of reconciliation, but I hadn’t heard from him since. He’d never been to Farmington—I wasn’t sure he’d ever stepped foot in Missouri. There was no way Reed was here, milling around the county fair and looking for me.

  “Reed’s not here,” I said at last.

  Rachel shook her head, lifting her sunglasses onto her head. “Denial is so not a good look for you.”

  “Rachel, he isn’t. We broke up. Weeks ago.”

  Her head tipped. “You and Canaan broke up. Years ago. And here you are. It seems the Farmington County Fair is the mecca of rekindling all old flames from your love life.”

  Peeking over my shoulder to make sure Canaan was holding his position, I found him watching the two of us, his brows drawn together. Great. He knew something was up.

  “He isn’t here. How would he even know to come here looking for me?”

  Rachel slid a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Love conquers all, baby. Plus, he might have mentioned your grandma’s neighbor said you’d be here since the rest of the town is.”

  My eyes rolled. “Reed doesn’t love me.”

  “That’s not what he said.”

  Whether what Rachel was saying was true or not, I needed to plan my next moves around the possibility that it was. Which meant I had to grab Canaan and book it the hell out of here. And find so
me place to go besides Grandma’s, where I guessed Reed had visited first if he really was here.

  Which he probably wasn’t.

  But still.

  I was about to motion Canaan over to sell him on the story that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave, when I heard my name being called yet again. It was another familiar voice.

  Reed’s.

  Rachel’s eyes widened when she glanced over my shoulder. “Shit on a stick.”

  Taking a breath, I turned around, my name being called again.

  It was him. Reed McAllister was in fucking Farmington, powering toward me with that perfect smile, totally oblivious to the man on my left who was not so oblivious to him.

  “Rachel . . .”

  “Not good,” she said. “Canaan’s been working on those anger management issues, right? Found some new sense of Zen and inner peace?”

  Canaan’s hands were curling into fists at his sides, his jaw popping through the skin. He was staying where he was though, instead of barreling at “the other man” the way he would have back in the day. Canaan might not have ever seen Reed before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know who the man coming for me was.

  He knew. And from the blaze in his eyes, Canaan was contemplating committing a crime of passion right there at the county fair.

  “We’ll find out,” I said under my breath, clearing my face as Reed finished approaching.

  “Maggie,” he said, like it was an answer he’d been searching for.

  “Reed,” I said as calmly as I was capable. “What are you doing here?”

  His smile dimmed, like he was actually surprised I wasn’t all open arms and happy to see him. “I thought that would be obvious. I’m here to see you. I’m here for you.”

  I didn’t mean for the note of doubt to materialize in my voice. It wasn’t subtle. “And I thought I made myself clear over the phone when I said we were through. I’m not a fan of giving second chances to guys who call me from the airport to tell me they’re moving across the country for a new job I’m hearing about for the first time.”