The Line That Binds by J.M. Miller

delight and made her eyes crinkle. Curious. He didn’t seem like the type she’d go for. He certainly wasn’t sitting with her at lunch today.
    “Okay,” I responded with a wave of the paperwork. “Thanks.”
    Simone nodded and I left, following Benjamin down the hallway.
    We passed a couple on the stairs. Their eyes moved in awe, taking in all of the details of the mansion, just as mine had minutes earlier. The blonde-haired woman’s hands clasped tightly around one of her fiancé’s, and her smile was so big it looked painful. The next happy couple ready to beat the odds. This was now my business. Marriage. What a joke.
    Benjamin stepped outside the front door and held it open for me silently. I passed beside him, brushing his free arm accidentally. His face turned to me, stunned by the sudden contact. It was the closest I’d been to him, and I couldn’t help looking for the dimples I’d seen the other day. They weren’t prominent right now, but I did watch the soft cleft in his chin move as he said, “Have you looked around the property yet?”
    I noticed when he spoke that his mouth had opened slightly, wire free. I wanted to question him about it, but I decided against it for now. “No,” I confessed.
    He was indifferent, not exposing any of the smugness he’d shown while I was trapped in my tub, or the attentiveness from today in the lunchroom. I didn’t know what to think about him, which left me guarded, and speechless.
    The day’s temperature had risen with the humidity. It was bearable in class, but it forced me to shed my hoodie now as we walked. I hadn’t changed into work clothes like Ben had. Actually, I didn’t have any work clothes to change into anyway so I guessed it didn’t matter much.
    He glanced sideways at me, the afternoon sun reflecting in his squinted eyes. “I was going to mow today, but Randall’s got that covered.” He pointed behind his house toward the barn. An older guy with a pregnant beer gut walked around an industrial mower. It was the kind that turned with handles instead of a wheel. The thought of learning to drive it made my stomach bottom out.
    “So what are we doing then, Benjamin?” I asked flatly.
    “It’s nice to know you aren’t going to call me BS,” he said with the smallest of smiles. “But you can call me Ben.”
    “Ben,” I replied, testing its simplicity. I never planned to call him BS. That was just the only ammo I could throw while I sat naked and vulnerable in the tub, but I wouldn’t tell him that. “What are we doing, Ben?” The soft grin stayed on his lips, like he knew something I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I should be scared or happy. At least he was being pleasant.
    “We have to go to the barn to grab you some gloves first. Then we’ll walk the property for a tour and also check for weeds, breaks in the irrigation, or any other possible problems.
    “How about the well? Can you show me that?”

 
     
     
    That wasn’t what I’d expected to come out of her mouth. Why would she ask about the well? As we passed parallel to the gazebo, I instinctively looked toward the mess of brush and vines bordering the tree line. Her eyes shifted that direction also. She knows where it is?
    “I’m just really curious about it because of all the paintings in Aunt Janine’s house,” LJ said, responding to my silence. She matched my walking pace, which I’d sped up to put some distance between us and the well.
    The question threw me off. I’d planned on easing into conversation with her because, frankly, I was expecting her to have an attitude about working, and little to no desire in conversing with me. And I definitely wasn’t expecting to worry about keeping her away from the well this soon.
    I glanced at her as she bounced on her soles, almost skipping, in order to keep up. “Maybe some other time,” I finally answered. It was the best I could give her without sounding like a completely evasive asshole. “The paintings are weird