Three-Way Split Page 3

  “You’re not a cuddler, are you?” he’d joked, smiling.

  Now Mitchell knew his limits. Across the table, Ben was eating the pasta with all the focus he usually attributed to the chemistry of brewing.

  “This is really good.” Ben gestured with his fork to the pasta. “You said this is canned sauce?”

  “And some extras.” It was always nice to have his food complimented. “You want to walk to the meeting tonight? Or is it still hot as balls outside?”

  “Shit, man, I don’t know. I spent the whole day in the brewery.” Situated in the basement below the restaurant, the brewery was always cool no matter what the temperature outside.

  “You walked home.”

  Ben tipped his head to the side, thinking. “Right.” His eyes got that faraway look they always held when he was remembering, shifting through his near-photographic memory for moments and experiences from the past. It was disconcerting most of the time, but damn, there were pluses to having a fuck buddy who literally remembered every single thing that had ever made you come like a freight train. “Yeah. It’s still hot outside.”

  “I think I’d still like to walk.” He hadn’t worked out that day, and his muscles felt tight.

  “Me too. I want to take a little more time with the beer descriptions, though. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.” Ben finished the last of his pasta. “Bet everyone will be surprised to see me there. I don’t think I’ve been to one of those meetings in over a year. Anybody still ask about me?”

  “Not that I can think of.” Mitchell thought back to his day. “I mentioned to Hannah that you might come tonight.”

  Ben’s vision went distant again, probably trying to recall Hannah. Mitchell could tell the moment he alighted on the correct person. “Oh! Right. Where did you see her?”

  “She comes into the pub every week or so. Usually she just gets a beer, but sometimes she gets food.” Mitchell reached out for Ben’s dish to clear it away, but Ben was faster, scooping up both plates and heading to the sink. Relief washed over him: Ben barely remembered Hannah. That relief was immediately offset by guilt. Obviously, if Ben set his sights on Hannah, then he, Mitchell, would never have a shot. Did Ben and Hannah have any contact other than the Chamber of Commerce meetings? Ben was hardly ever in the restaurant, but Hannah did run that sex shop. He’d never thought to ask Ben if he went in there. He’d thought about shopping there a few times but never got around to it. He should make a trip sometime.

  A damp dish towel across the face brought him back to the present. “Hey!” He came to with a start to see Ben laughing. He rubbed his stinging cheek. “That hurt, you asshole.”

  “Well, stop staring into space like a zombie. You’ve got to head out in a few minutes.” Ben snapped the towel at Mitchell again, this time at his ass, but Mitchell deftly avoided it. “I know how much you hate being late.”

  …

  Ben scanned the twenty or so people gathered inside the main meeting room at the town hall and looked for familiar faces. One of the many blessings of a nearly eidetic memory was his ability to remember names to go with these faces, even after having not seen them in over a year, and he recognized almost everyone in the room.

  Schmoozing definitely played to his strengths. In the twenty minutes before the meeting began, he managed to say hello to most people and introduce himself to those who were new since his last appearance. He had just finished a jovial conversation with the owner of a local bookstore when he spotted Mitchell over near the snacks table, looking pained and disgruntled. In other words, one of Mitchell’s usual looks.

  “Do you always just stay here by the snacks and avoid everyone?” Joining him, Ben poured himself a glass of water from one of the carafes. “You know it’s a social event, right?”

  Mitchell made a humph noise. “You’re the one who can make everyone love you in a minute.” He scooped some ranch dip onto his plate with a plastic spoon, then gestured at Ben with a carrot stick. “It’s not really fair for you to be a genius and an extrovert. It makes the rest of us look bad.”

  Ben chuckled, self-consciousness brushing the back of his mind. Mitchell liked to drop lines like that out of the blue, lines about his intelligence and charm. Before he could respond, though, he was distracted by movement near his right shoulder. Hannah Stewart had joined them at the snack table and was using a toothpick to spear cheese cubes onto her plate with surprising viciousness.

  He remembered Hannah, of course. She was a hard person to forget, even for looks alone. Some women with long hair let it hang straight and flat, but Hannah’s dark brown locks looked styled, layers flipping up at the ends like she had it professionally done or something. He was far from an expert on women’s hair, but hers looked nice, and he wouldn’t mind running his hands through it. She also wore these adorable square-framed librarian glasses, which were sexy in a dorky way. What he always noticed about her, though, was her pout: those full, rich lips turned slightly down in dismay at the assortment of cheeses that she was attacking as if they personally wronged her.

  “Maybe you should give those cheese cubes a chance to fight back.”

  At the sound of his voice, Hannah looked up, her eyes going wide in surprise. In this light, it was hard to tell if they were green or gray. True hazel eyes were rare, and hers seemed to shift in color even as he looked into them.

  “Hi, Ben. I didn’t see you there.” She brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “I had to close late and didn’t get time to run home for dinner. Looks like it’s cheese cubes tonight.” She sighed. “I can’t even get mad, because they bought, like, two hundred dollars of product, but I’m starving. Lunch was forever ago.” She looked past him to Mitchell. “Mitchell, what would it take to get you to cater these meetings?” She held up her plate of cheese cubes. “This is not food.” She glanced back over her shoulder at who was nearby—nobody—and then said conspiratorially, “I’d blow pretty much anyone for something from the restaurant right now.”

  Mitchell was staring at Hannah with his mouth slightly open. Damn, Ben understood that expression. He couldn’t help picturing Hannah on her knees sucking him off, those pink lips wrapped around his cock, and Mitchell would have to be dead in the pants not to be picturing the exact same thing. What a thing to say right before the meeting started.

  Mitchell recovered quickly and grinned. “I don’t know, Hannah. Mixing prostitution and catering is probably not a good business move for us.”

  Hannah laughed, and Ben took the opportunity to look her up and down. On this unseasonably warm September day, she’d dressed in a pencil skirt and a sleeveless blouse that showed off all her curves. And fuck, she had curves. Wide hips, hint of a belly, generous breasts… She was the kind of woman he loved to wrap his arms around—and that other parts loved for different reasons.

  Hannah popped one of the cheese cubes in her mouth and sighed. “It’ll do.” She gave Ben a once-over, tilting her head back to look him in the eyes. Most people backed up when he approached, just out of the reflex that he was so much taller than them, but Hannah stayed where she was. She was tall for a woman, but she was still many inches shorter than him. “Gotta say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  He fixed her with a flirtatious, smoldering stare. “Mitchell said you’d be here, so I had to show up.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Nice. That line ever get you anywhere?”

  “Now and then.” He smiled more broadly, genuinely this time. He hadn’t spoken to Hannah very much, only a few brief conversations in passing. How had he never realized how tempting she was?

  “You should’ve brought a sandwich.” She held up the cheese plate. “That would have gotten you a lot further than pickup lines.”

  “What if I take you out to dinner after this meeting?”

  Hannah glanced just past Ben’s shoulder, where Mitchell was still hovering. Interesting. Mitchell had never mentioned anything between them, but those two definitely saw each other on the regular. Maybe
Ben just hadn’t picked up on it before. When he looked over at Mitchell, though, the other man was pouring himself a glass of water and didn’t seem to be listening.

  “And why do you want to take me out?” Hannah raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “You didn’t eat, either?”

  Ben skimmed his gaze down her body again, eyeing all those delicious curves. “Maybe I’m ready for dessert.”

  “Oh, brother.” She shook her head and chuckled, the action bringing out two delicate dimples in her cheeks.

  Before he could follow up, Barry Hammond, the director of the Chamber of Commerce, called them all together around the long conference table and began the meeting.

  By the time conversation finally rolled around to the Mapleton Fall Festival, Ben had learned far more than he ever wanted to know about the workings of the businesses in this town. Mitchell was engaged the whole time, god bless him, taking notes on his iPad and occasionally asking questions. Ben was a top-notch brewer, and his PhD in organic chemistry certainly didn’t hurt, but Mitchell had always been the driving force behind the business end of things. Ben had a grip on the marketing and promotion, but Mitchell had the financials under control, and Mitchell was the one attending these meetings religiously and maintaining good community relations. For all the shit he gave Ben about hating meaningless social interactions, Mitchell was a whiz at Chamber of Commerce stuff. Thank god they were partners.

  He didn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because Barry was moving on to talking about the festival, which was less than a month away now. He loved Fall Festival. They shut down Main Street to all motorized traffic, rerouting cars around the side streets to turn downtown into a pedestrian-only zone. Mostly, people parked in the fairgrounds field and walked in. In addition to extended hours in all the shops and restaurants, vendors set up booths and performance spaces all along Main Street. It was one of the best weekends of the year. Their pub always got a booth on Restaurant Row, selling quick bites and sometimes beer on draft, and they always had a good time.

  Carla, who ran the stationery and paper-crafts store, handed out the festival schedule photocopied on autumn letterhead. Ben scanned the list of vendors, picking their name out on the Featured Restaurants list and then running through the other booths. Most were familiar from past years; people tended to stick with what worked for them. Some were crafts and skills booths: Carla’s Stationery taught calligraphy workshops, and the Tangled Web yarn store did a crochet seminar. The White River spa taught basic massage techniques and then offered discounted massages afterward. Some shops just ran booths for specific sales. Challenge booths were always popular, with people competing in silly little game show–style activities to win prizes and tickets they could turn in for discounts at participating shops, and sure enough, there were a handful of those listed on the schedule. Maybe one year, they should do that. Could be more fun than just selling food. He scanned the list again. Interesting: Hannah’s sex shop wasn’t listed as a vendor. Although what could she even sell at a family event like the Fall Festival?

  Barry was almost vibrating with excitement when he started talking again. “All right, folks. We have some really exciting news. I apologize for getting this information out to you so late, but we had a lot of loose ends to tie up. Carla, can you explain?”

  “Thanks, Barry.” Carla tapped a sheaf of papers into a neat stack. “As you all know, we’ve had concerns over the years about the limited opportunities the Fall Festival has for some of our businesses. Well, it’s late, but it’s happening. This year, for the first time, we’re adding a new adult element to the festival with Mapleton After Dark. A number of you said you were looking for a way to draw in the adult crowd, so this is our solution. We’re really excited.” She beamed, pink cheeked. “We’re going to take the town common on Saturday night from eight to midnight, and we’ll have booths and activities geared for the grown-ups. No one under eighteen permitted. We can do twenty-one and over with wristbands, serve alcohol, maybe dancing—it’ll be quite fun.”

  Hannah straightened visibly. She’d been leaning backward in her chair, and now she sat upright, rapt.

  “But wait a minute,” one of the other bar owners piped up. “The festival’s just a few weeks away! How are we supposed to pull this together?”

  “I know, Phil, and we’re sorry for the short notice.” Barry adjusted his glasses. “It’s a very late-breaking addition. But to compensate for the short notice, we are discounting Mapleton After Dark booths 50 percent off the normal booth-rental fee.”

  Shit, half off? That wasn’t bad. Murmurs broke out around the table. Many of the group—mostly the owners of businesses that needed an adult audience—looked pleased by this development. In addition to Hannah’s sex shop, the owners of the other bars in town looked interested, as did the couple who ran the dance club/arcade that Ben had been known to frequent. He half listened to the rest of the info from Carla, dates for when booth proposals would be due, when they’d be approved or rejected, and a few other interim deadlines. Question-and-answer wrapped up the evening’s session, after which the formality dissolved into the meeting-after-the-meeting.

  With Mitchell deep in conversation with Carla, Ben made his way over to Hannah at the snack table.

  “I’m going to get a complex about my eating if you keep coming over here.” She used the toothpick to spear a single cube of cheese from her plate, then ate it, closing her teeth around the small skewer of wood and sliding the cheese off. It was such a minute detail, but Ben was momentarily captivated by the flash of white teeth, the bite, something feral in its action. He lost his train of thought.

  “I can leave you alone if you want,” he managed after a moment’s blank stare.

  “No, that’s okay.” She skewered more cheese. “I just don’t want you to think all I do is eat. I may be squishy, but I have other hobbies.”

  He gestured over to Mitchell, who was still talking to the festival organizers. “Mitchell is the workout fanatic. I haven’t seen the inside of a gym since college. But anyway, Fall Festival.” Ben leaned against the wall next to the snack table. “You’re not on the vendor list yet. Are you gonna do a Mapleton After Dark booth?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m considering it. I’m not sure how much interest I would draw, though. Adults-only event or not, I don’t know that anyone wants to buy sex toys in the middle of the town common.”

  “It must be frustrating to run a shop with so much stigma attached.”

  Hannah pursed her lips, tipping her head to the side. “I don’t think there’s as much stigma as there used to be. When I opened the shop, I knew I wasn’t selling shoes. I knew what I was getting into. People who are scandalized by this sort of thing aren’t my target audience, anyway.”

  “Right.”

  “But I don’t know that I’ve got enough of a draw to have my own booth. Plus, it’s pricey, even at 50 percent off. I’m on a really tight budget.” She folded her arms and tapped her lips with one finger, seeming to think aloud rather than to talk directly to him. “Maybe I need some sort of theme, or challenge, maybe, to draw people in, but I’m not sure what that is.” Her expression changed to a polite smile. “I have a little bit of time to think about it.” She glanced over his shoulder, and Ben turned to see Mitchell still in conversation, this time with Barry. “What about you two? Going to do a special booth?”

  “I’m considering it. We always do the restaurant booth, but maybe we can do something more creative as well. Feature the beer in a more central way.” He liked the possibilities that offered, and with their business performance still going strong, it wasn’t a significant financial risk. “We’ll see. I’ll decide before the deadline, I suppose.”

  “I suppose.”

  “That dinner offer is still open, you know.” He smiled down at her.

  She angled her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t know. How do I know you’re not just a hallucination brought on by extreme hunger?”

>   He leaned down to her, speaking low enough that only she could hear him. “You could take a bite and find out.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink, and she laughed, a surprised chortle. “You’re something else, you know that?” She lifted her chin to study him, contemplating. God, he wished he knew what was going on in that mind of hers. After a few moments of scrutiny, she looked right past his shoulder, and her expression relaxed. She took a step back, shaking her head. “Not tonight.”

  Had he failed some test? He hadn’t realized he was taking one. “How about your number, then? Just in case?”

  She handed him her phone. “I’ll take yours instead. You want me, you can find me at the shop.”

  Better than nothing. Ben took her phone and entered his number.

  Mitchell appeared near his shoulder, and Hannah nodded to him. “Nice to see you, Mitchell. I’ll catch you sometime this week?”

  Mitchell nodded. “Probably.”

  The walk home with Mitchell was spent in generally companionable silence. Although the day had been oppressively hot, the temperature had dropped after sunset, and now the sidewalk radiated a pleasant warmth up at them in the cool evening breeze.

  Mitchell might have been content not to talk at all, but after a few minutes of the silence, Ben broke it. “So, Mapleton After Dark. You want to try something different?”

  “I was thinking about that.” Mitchell nodded thoughtfully. “That could be cool. We’ve never done anything special before. It would be a nice year for it. Business is stable; we don’t have any big equipment needs coming up. At half off normal booth rental, it seems like a low-risk investment.”