Chapter Twenty Three

The air was heavy with moisture, the sky a pearl gray, sitting in sharp contrast to the brilliant jade color of the trees and grass, the flowers drooping, their petals closed up. Seattle was on the brink of a total downpour and the clean, fresh scent of rain filled the atmosphere.

I filled my lungs over and over again, allowing my body to take a few minutes to adjust to the wet air. It never ceased to amaze me how different Seattle was from San Diego. Every time I came back to the rainy city it was like entering a different world, an entirely new realm.

People moved everywhere, past me, next to me, in front of me, over me. Mothers and fathers stood in the terminals, some holding signs that said "Welcome Home" and craning their necks to see their children come in from the gates. Others hugged and smoothed hair with bittersweet expressions, wishing their loved ones safe flights and eliciting promises for a phone call home as soon as the plane landed.

My heels clacked against the tiles as I headed into the terminal and straight to baggage claim. I just received a text message from Belle that said she was stuck in traffic but could see the airport from where she sat in her car. I watched the belt move around and around, trying to pick my bag up from the sea of others. When it came around I pushed between two others and grabbed it, groaning as I did so. The bag was heavier than I remembered and I wondered why I had decided to pack so much for a week's visit to my parent's house.

I pulled the handle from the rolling bag and started toward the escalator. I stopped at the railing, pulling out my cell phone to see if Belle had tried to get a hold of me while I'd been waiting for my baggage. No new messages and no missed calls. Sighing, I placed the phone back into my purse and gripped the handles on my bag, readying myself to take the escalator. Something made me look up from my feet and scan the first floor below. That's when I saw him.

He was lounging in a plastic chair, his long legs spread out in front of him, his left leg crossed over his right. In one of his hands he held a glossy magazine, the other rested against his thigh. My eyes scanned the lean form, raked in and memorized the brown patented shoes, the dark jeans, white button-down and gray suit jacket.

His skin looked soft and smooth as ever, with a little bit of the stubble I loved so much present along his upper lip and jaw line. I felt my fingers curl inward involuntarily, as if they had a mind of their own, wanting to feel the roughness of him against my palm. His thick, dark hair grazed the collar of his shirt. He read an article in what I guessed was something like Business Today or GQ Magazine with a striking half smirk on his face.

Seven years had passed and I grudgingly realized that I still responded to Ben Hurst the way I did when I first laid eyes on him. My breath hitched in my throat, my heart puttered and stopped then restarted again. Memories flooded my head with full force. Days lounging around in my apartment, walks in the park, the night we spent in his apartment after the Christmas party, the feel of his hands on me, the taste of his mouth, the way he smelled... I felt my mouth go dry thinking about it all.

Feeling like I had taken a swift punch to the stomach, I stood there for a moment, stunned motionless. A whoosh of air escaped my lungs and I shook my head, able to move again. I concentrated on stepping onto the escalator without tripping over my feet. I kept my eyes on him as I went down, willing him to look up and see me and so very terrified that he might. Careful not to fall forward, I stepped onto the floor and took two measured steps, not daring to rip my eyes away from Ben, still breathtakingly gorgeous as ever, as he flipped through his magazine with that same cool, calm attitude that was so characteristically him. I was able to breathe again and I could feel my pulse jump.

After the article came out he was taken to jail. The last time I had seen him was in the court room, staring him down as I told the story in as much detail I could remember. He had been sentenced to two and half years in prison and seven months of probation. The look he gave me when they slapped the handcuffs on his wrists still made my heart clench, even though I would never admit that I might have felt bad for where I put him.

Where was he now? Was he married? Did he have a family? What in the world was he doing for a job? Judging by the looks of him he still lived a lavish lifestyle. I pondered for a moment if he still lived in his extravagant apartment by the park, three miles north of my old place.

Strangers maneuvered around me, jamming me with their shoulders and grumbling to themselves in passive aggressive attempts to get me to move. I did, taking two more steps.

"Natalie!" Belle called from the doors, waving at me. I whipped around in the direction of her voice.

I held a hand up to her and then turned back toward Ben. He raised his head slowly upon hearing my name, and I looked over in time to catch his gaze. My pulse jumped and I stood paralyzed. His swarthy eyes scanned my face and he looked at me with a curious expression, as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was seeing me.

Belle's fingers wrapped around my elbow when she reached me and she started talking, failing to take notice that my whole, undivided attention was on one single person in an airport swarming with thousands. My mind was screaming at me to turn away, but my body wouldn't respond.

Ben's lips turned up into a crooked smile and every limb in my body weakened. His eyes glistened for a split second before he turned back to his magazine.

Just like that, the spell was broken. Belle's voice boomed loud in my ear and my body loosened, the world going back to real time instead of slow motion. She pulled me by the elbow toward the glass doors of the airport, chattering on about how traffic was horrible and she would have left sooner if Dawson had been able to drop the baby off at her mother's.

I bit my bottom lip once we were close to the doors, waiting for others in front of us to move, and peeked over my shoulder at him. He was staring at me again, the heat of his gaze boring holes into my back. I turned back around and nodded as Belle continued on with her story.

When I left the airport a few seconds later it was the last time I ever saw Ben Hurst again.

Special thanks to one of my best friends, who so kindly gave me much of the plot for this story. Without her, this would still be unfinished and very boring.

I've compiled a playlist for this story, which you can listen to here, if you're interested: www(dot)imeem(dot)com/people/WnibMxt/playlist/zfkoTQuq/ambushed-soundtrack-music-playlist/