Exes With Benefits

  “Says no guy ever,” Rachel muttered, her hands going back to my shoulders to steady me.

  Opening my eyes, they took a moment to clear from seeing stripes of colors from all of the spinning. As soon as I could make out someone right in front of me, my eyes were still straining to focus. The moment they did, my heart sputtered.

  It wasn’t just my eyes that had landed on him—his were aimed straight at me.

  Rachel’s chin tucked over my shoulder, not missing who I was staring at. Her tongue clucked. “Well how’s that for irony?”

  “How is it ironic that I just locked eyes with my ex in a roomful of hundreds of other men?” I hissed, trying to look away but not having much success. The longer I stared at him, the higher one side of his mouth crept. “And I thought you said he never came here?”

  “He never came here before tonight,” Rachel’s head tipped. “Which is also pretty damn ironic.”

  “Would you stop with the ironic? You’re mistaking it for tragic.”

  Rachel gave a little wave in Canaan’s direction, who shot a wave back, before she twisted me around. “Or you’re mistaking it for destiny.”

  Even with my back to him, I could feel the heat of his stare. “Destiny? Canaan and me?” I huffed. “I thought you and I were friends.”

  “So did I,” Rachel replied. “Then you bailed for five years without so much as a word.”

  “You know why I did that. Why I had to.”

  “Of course I do. Canaan.” Her arm swept over my shoulder to where he was probably still staring at me with that smirky look. “Everything you’ve done has been because of him. Leaving. Staying away. Cutting ties with everyone here. You left him, but you didn’t have to ditch everything else at the same time.”

  Kendra and Riley were a rare quiet, rolling their polished nails over their fresh bottles.

  I hated that Rachel had a point, but she had a huge one. A valid one. In my quest to erase Canaan from my life, I’d given him the steering wheel.

  “You’re right. God, you’re so right. I’m sorry.” I shifted. “I was young and foolish and thought I was in love. I’m a terrible person.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows lifted. “Not a terrible person. Just a terrible friend.” When my gaze met hers, I saw something flashing in her eyes. Right before a smile broke. “I kid. I kid.” She laughed. “God knows we were all young and foolish and made some dumbass mistakes in the name of love.”

  When she reattached her hands to my shoulders, I thought I heard her whisper something about bracing myself before I received a solid shove into the sea of people. For some reason, the first thing I noticed was a certain someone in a dark grey shirt and worn jeans shove away from the wall he was leaning on, almost like he was going to try to catch me. Instead, it was someone else’s arms I fell into.

  Although it was more of a trip-collapse. All grace.

  “Whoa. Are you okay?” A solid set of hands roped around my arms to keep me upright.

  Throwing a quick glare over my shoulder at the trio of women with their beers raised at me, I looked at the stranger I’d been sacrificed in the name of “fun.” The hard lines fell from my expression when I noticed his face. It was a nice one. The kind of nice that made a woman feel like a girl again, all tingly stomached and unsteady.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I answered when I realized he’d asked me a question and was waiting. “I tripped.” Also known as my friend tossed me out as a sacrificial lamb.

  “Lucky me,” he replied with one damn fine version of a smile.

  Even after he’d righted me, his hands stayed around my arms. He was attractive in all the right ways, and nothing in his eyes read “danger” or “stay away,” like I’d seen in a certain pair of gold eyes. He was dressed sharp in clothes that cut just close enough to hint at a body he took care of. His breath was minty instead of steeped in alcohol. He was everything taken at face value a girl should have been intrigued by—of course that certainty escaped this girl.

  He let go of my arms and stepped back a moment later. “How have you been, Maggie?”

  I was in the middle of adjusting my dress when I stopped. Giving him another look, I attempted to place the cute stranger who apparently wasn’t a stranger.

  After another moment, he saved me. “Caleb Thomas. I graduated a few years ahead of you.” He waited another second, but nothing was registering. “Your grandma and my grandma used to carpool to Kansas City to watch an Indians game every summer?”

  That was when it registered. “Oh my god, Caleb, no way!”

  I gave him a quick hug like we’d been old friends, but the truth was, I couldn’t remember much about him other than him being Mrs. Thomas’s grandson. He’d been too old for us to hang out back in school. I remembered the name, not the face. After tonight, I guessed I’d remember the face too. It would be hard to forget it.

  “Do you still live here?” I asked after leaning back.

  “Just moved back a year ago after finishing school.” His smile was legit the thing of fairy tales, right down to the cleft in his chin.

  “What did you go to school for?”

  “Veterinary medicine.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re a veterinarian?”

  “So I’m told.” He checked my beer like he was trying to decipher if I needed a fresh one. “And you’re an artist in Chicago.”

  “Good to know the gossip circle is still alive and well in Farmington.”

  He chuckled, giving me one of those quick, all-encompassing kinds of looks. “So what brings you back into the heart of the gossip circle?”

  I held my breath. “My grandma just passed.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He gave half a grimace. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to know the gossip circle isn’t perfect.”

  Caleb’s smile widened, his eyes giving him away right before he started to point at the dance floor. Before my pulse could spike, someone came up beside us. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. His presence—the feeling that came with it—gave him away.

  “I’ve got to talk to you. It’s important,” was Canaan’s greeting, his hand finding my wrist before he led me away from Caleb. “You won’t mind if I steal Maggie away, would you, Caleb?”

  He didn’t wait for Caleb’s answer. From the sound of his voice, he didn’t care what that answer would be. Caleb looked like he was considering following but changed his mind when Canaan shot a look over his shoulder that didn’t need any translation to understand its meaning—back the fuck off.

  “Canaan.” I pulled against him, but it was like trying to break through a steel cuff. “You can’t do this anymore. I’m not some piece of property you can just lay your claim over whenever you want to.”

  He kept cutting through the crowd like a blade through water. “I’ve got something important I need to tell you.”

  “So you said back there, but that does not mean you can manhandle me like I’m some goddamn calf you’re trying to brand.”

  He came to a sudden halt, his eyes flashing when he spun on me. His mouth opened. God, I was already anticipating the sting of his words when he surprised us both by sealing his mouth shut.

  I didn’t miss my trio of friends, off to the side, watching us and sipping their beers. For a night that was supposed to be Canaan-free, it was sure working out to be the opposite.

  “Fine.” This time when I yanked my wrist, he released it. “Then just say whatever it is that’s so important you had to wrestle me away from a nice guy and a nice conversation.”

  Canaan’s nostrils flared over the nice guy part, and damn if the way his jaw clenched when he appraised me like I was his and his alone didn’t make my knees misbehave.

  “Well? What is it? Hit me with this matter of importance. You made sure you’ve got my attention.”

  Canaan’s eyes swept down my dress, his throat moving. “Caleb Thomas is a tool.”

  Anger flushed into my veins. “T
hat was what was so important you had to make a fool of me in front of everyone to say?”

  “Yeah, it was. Didn’t seem like you were figuring it out on your own, so I thought I’d save you the time.” He watched me finish the contents of my beer.

  I lifted my empty bottle at Rachel, hoping she’d take the hint or have Kendra find another unsuspecting victim to fetch a few more from. “Caleb Thomas is a veterinarian,” I said, like I’d been aware of that fact for more than the past three minutes. “You know, one of those ‘tools’ that saves animals’ lives?”

  Canaan’s gold eyes raised. “People only become vets when they can’t hack it in med school.”

  My teeth went to bite down too late. “Good to know,” I fired back, putting some distance between us. “Since my boyfriend’s a doctor. The kind that apparently can ‘hack it.’”

  Regret flooded me the moment it was out. I’d had no intention of telling Canaan anything about that part of my life in Chicago, knowing it would make him that much more against signing the divorce papers. Also knowing that maybe, in some way, it might wound him a little.

  “Your boyfriend?” His throat moved, but the rest of his expression was unreadable. “He’s a doctor? How old is he then? Fifty?”

  When a sharp exhale came from him, I couldn’t resist. “Thirty-five.”

  One corner of his mouth pulled, but everything else remained emotionless. “That makes him twelve years older than you. You were in kindergarten when he was a senior in high school.”

  I’d never thought of it that way. Not that I was going to give Canaan the credit of knowing it. “Yeah. What’s your point?”

  His hand stabbed in the direction of where he’d just pulled me from. “Caleb Thomas might be a tool, but your boyfriend’s a pervert.”

  “Yeah,” I snapped. “Because you know all about what decency does and doesn’t look like in a guy.”

  Canaan’s teeth worked at his cheek as his arms crossed. We stood in silence for a minute as music and dancing circled us in every direction. I wanted to walk away and not give him another thought for the rest of the night, but I knew that would be impossible. So instead I stood my ground, silently hoping he’d be the one to walk away.

  Of course I should have known better. Canaan had never walked away. Not once.

  “I met with Sid Barrington today,” I started, not sure why I was striking up a new conversation when I should have been halfway to the door by now. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news?”

  “Define ‘news.’ There’s never any shortage of it wandering around this town.” Canaan rubbed at the scar running through his left brow. The one he’d split open and had stitched shut so many times I’d lost count.

  “The news having to do with Grandma leaving you the garage apartment.” I backed away some, pulling at the hem of my dress his gaze was lingering on.

  “Oh. That news. Yeah. Your grandma told me about that years ago.” His hands stuffed deep into his pockets and he shrugged.

  His casual response grated at me. “Why would she leave that to you? It’s not like it was a place ripe with fond memories.”

  He made a face, looking like he was about to argue something before catching himself. Leaning back, he went with another half-hearted shrug. “Maybe she left it to me because it’s my home.”

  I snorted. “Your home. Of course it is.”

  His expression flattened, his gold eyes blinking at me.

  My chest seized when I realized he was serious. “You are not still living in that place. Tell me you’re not.”

  The toe of his scuffed leather boot touched my sandal when he moved closer. My skin rose from the sensation of it. The unpleasant sensation of it, I reminded myself.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m not living there.”

  My arms folded. “You’re lying.”

  “And you’re the one who told me to tell you I wasn’t. Make up your mind.”

  I wanted to wipe the stirrings of his smirk right from his face, but that would have meant touching him and something told me that touching Canaan Ford meant certain doom to my ex-hating agenda.

  “So you’re living there.” I took a breath, catching up to this latest revelation. “When did you move back in?”

  The skin between his brows creased. “I never moved out.”

  My stomach twisted. He was being serious again. “You’ve been living there ever since I left? This whole time?”

  The crease between those dark brows went deeper. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  My body tensed when I thought about him living in that same apartment we’d shared our first and only year of marriage. What had possessed him to stay?

  “Why?” I breathed.

  His gaze drifted from me into the crowd, looking without really seeing. “It’s where I belonged.”

  I waited for him to expand on his explanation, but he stayed quiet. “What does that mean?” I asked, my arm lifting.

  “Exactly what I said.”

  Each question from me seemed to only agitate him, so I set my curiosity aside temporarily. “Okay, so you’re still living in the garage apartment.” I moved to the side to a spot that wasn’t crammed with bodies. Canaan moved with me, sliding a chair out of the way before I ran into it. “You could have mentioned that to me the two times I saw you before now.”

  Canaan slid his sleeves up his forearms as we leaned into one of the long walls running down the side of The Barn. “I was a little busy protecting my nuts from being kicked or my throat from being sliced. Never know with you.”

  “That’s right. You kept your mouth shut the whole time, like the perfect angel you are.” I pointed just above his head as if there were a halo there. “It was all a one-sided argument.”

  His mouth moved. “Glad we understand each other.”

  “How come I haven’t seen your truck parked outside?”

  “I work. A lot. You’re probably asleep when I leave and asleep when I get back.” When my eyebrows elevated, his hard expression cracked. “I know, I know. The guy who seemed allergic to work is now a workaholic. Like I keep trying to tell you, I’ve changed.” He waved at himself, like all the proof I needed was written on his snug shirt and wide chest.

  Surprising even him I think, I laughed. The kind that came easy and naturally, the kind from our youth.

  “I need a drink for this,” I said, noting that my girl squad had not picked up on my raised beer cue a few minutes ago. “What do you want? Your usual?” I was already backing up toward the bar.

  He shoved off the wall, coming toward me. “You’re not supposed to buy me a drink. I’m the one who should be buying the drinks.”

  My hand lifted. “It’s an equal playing field these days. Gender roles are a thing of the past, Canaan Ford. Welcome to the twenty-first century. Give me your drink request before I surprise you with something fruity and colorful.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he stayed where he was. Fighting every instinct from the look of it. “I’ll have a Coca-Cola. My recent usual,” he said when he noticed me looking at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

  “Coca-Cola and . . . ?”

  He gave me a funny look. “And a full body massage?”

  “Good luck with that,” I called back as I cut toward the bar.

  A Coke. The last time he’d wanted a Coke—by itself—was such a distant memory, I couldn’t recall it. He was screwing with me. No other explanation.

  After paying for his Coke and my beer, I made my way back. He was exactly where I’d left him, in the exact same position from the looks of it. His eyes trained on me like they hadn’t blinked since I’d wandered off.

  “Your drink.” I held out the frosty bottle for him.

  He took it with a thanks, clinking it against my beer. “To you.”

  Perplexed, I watched him take a drink. I found myself studying his eyes, which were clear and focused, and the way his movements were sharp instead of sloppy.

  “What?” he asked,
lowering his Coke when he caught me staring at him. “What?”

  “Just checking.”

  His eyes ran down himself. “Checking what?”

  “That you’re Canaan Ford.”

  Lifting his Coke, he took another drink. “The latest version.”

  Leaning my shoulder into the wall, I took a couple sips of my beer, realizing I was now on my third. I couldn’t feel anything yet, but alcohol had a way of sneaking up on me, and I needed all of my wits when it came to being around Canaan.

  Especially with the way he was looking tonight . . . and remembering the nights we’d spent together. For being a screw-up in the husband department, he knew his way around a woman’s body. If a marriage consisted of nothing but sex, we could have been the married couple of the century. But yeah, there was a lot more to marriage than physical intimacy, and we’d both flunked out in those areas.

  Damn. I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks from the images floating to the surface of my memory. Thankfully, it was dark enough inside The Barn that there was no way for him to notice.

  “Canaan . . .” I bit at my lip, searching for the right words. “About what you did for Grandma.” More biting as I searched. “Thank you.”

  Ahh, there they were. The right words to show one’s gratitude. They’d been difficult to utter in his direction for a while.

  “Betty did more for me than I ever came close to giving back to her,” he said. “But I wasn’t looking for anything in return, hoping there’d be something in it for me like the apartment if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  My fingers tightened around my beer. “That’s not what I’m thinking.”

  “Good to know.” He leaned into the wall beside me, so close I could count the old scars marking his eyebrows and cheekbones. No new ones seemed to have been carved. All of the ones I studied were ones I’d tended to—scars I’d cried for. “I’ll add that to my offer. I’ll sign over the garage, and sign the divorce papers, for one month.”

  For a few minutes, I’d forgotten all about his insane proposal. One month to prove he’d changed—four weeks to fall back in love with a man I’d given so much of myself to. Even if he had changed as he’d claimed, that didn’t mean I’d automatically fall into his arms and bed again. The only way Canaan and I would ever wind up back together was a damn miracle. A miracle of the world peace variety.