Ben flays Anthony alive with just one look.
Anthony stops dead in his tracks, laughs, and holds up his hands in innocence. “Or…not. Damn, cool it with the evil glares. You want to carry the damn vacuum, be my guest.”
“No one is carrying the vacuum except for me,” I point out haughtily.
At this point, I might as well be stomping my feet with how childish I’m being. I don’t know why I’m protesting so much except that it seems absolutely imperative to keep Ben from getting his way. I’d bet he always gets exactly what he wants. From morning till night the world bends for this man, and I refuse to join in.
Ben has his own plans though.
Finally having had enough of me, he turns back, steps toward me, and scoops me up with one arm, taking my vacuum in his other hand, then carries me down the stairs like I’m nothing more than pillow fluff.
“What a—”
“Nice guy,” he finishes for me as he continues carrying me to the car. I might as well be on an amusement park ride. My feet dangle a mile in the air as his strong arm holds me tightly against him.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
He’s still sweaty from practice and I (don’t) hate it. I’m half tempted to turn my head, press my nose to his throat, and inhale.
Just that thought makes a new wave of annoyance wash over me. How dare he hijack my good sense?
“Are you done yet?” I press. “Being a brute? You can put me down now. Your friends have seen how strong and mighty you are.”
“Just for that, I think I’ll keep hold of you.”
“I’ll start kicking and screaming soon.”
He laughs then and finally sets me down on my feet right beside the driver’s side door, blocking me from the others. He sets my things down next to me then stands to his full height to assess me.
I look right back at him, not saying a word. If he wants a staring contest, I’ll give him one.
He tips his head to the side, his lips slowly unfurling into a smile.
“Thank you, Ben, for helping me with my stuff,” he says teasingly before switching back to his normal tone. “Oh, no problem, little Birdie. Any time.”
“You think I’m going to thank you for that display of male chauvinism?” I reach out and poke him in the chest. “God. You just think so much of yourself, don’t you? You know what’s funny? At the diner that second time I saw you, I was under the impression that you might be sorta shy and sweet.”
His expression sobers, his brown eyes narrowing down on the finger that touches his chest. “I can be shy.”
But not sweet.
That’s what he’s hinting at. I drop my hand as a weird trickle of awareness suddenly makes the air around us feel charged. I look away from him first, breaking the spell and losing the unofficial war we’ve been waging.
He steps toward me again, invading my space ever so slightly. “You want sweet?”
I practically gulp.
What does it matter what I want? What are we doing here? Flirting? Teasing? Doesn’t he care that his friends are all staring at us?
No. He doesn’t.
His confidence radiates off him like a plume of smoke.
I feel him studying my profile, willing me to turn and meet his gaze. I’m too scared to do it. Too scared to see what he’s trying to show me.
My chest rises and falls as I fist my hands by my sides, trying to endure this moment without my cheeks turning even more red, and then, out of nowhere, he steps back.
“Have a good night, Birdie.”
Flustered, I whip my attention back to him just as he turns and walks away. I feel…bereft. Disappointed in my own cowardice.
Come back, I want to say. Keep playing with me.
Instead, I quickly pack up my car, wave goodbye to Leanna, and hurriedly drive away.
The next day is my scheduled day off from the diner, the one day off I get every week. I should be enjoying the fact that I get to sleep in for once, sinking down into my blankets, closing my eyes and forgetting my troubles. What I’m actually doing is staring up at the ceiling, trying to reconstruct Ben’s face in my mind. I have all the important details down: the sun-kissed tan skin, the taunting brown eyes, the bold, cocky mouth. Last night before I drifted off to sleep, I touched myself and got off thinking about him, and even now, there’s residual guilt. It feels like I’m not allowed to want him even in secret. It’s as if even fantasizing about him is off limits.
My interactions with him are just so out of the ordinary. Since returning to Pine Hill a few months back, I spend my days with Cook and Christine, with my nan and her caretakers. The only man putting the moves on me lately is Patrick, and that creep doesn’t count. I don’t want to keep thinking about Ben, but it’s futile to fight against it. He’s got me wound around his finger already. He barely touched me yesterday, but I swear I should have a mark from it.
The truth is, he could have done whatever he wanted to me, even in front of his friends. He could have trapped me against the car, locked his arms on either side of my hips, bent down, and kissed me. He could have skated his hands wherever he damn well pleased, and I would have let him. Hell, I probably would have begged for more.
With that embarrassing realization, I throw off my blankets and get going for the day. Instead of shimmying into my uniform and heading down to Dale’s, I dress in a white t-shirt and jean shorts. I grab my tote bag and fill it with my water bottle, advanced electrical engineering and programming textbooks, and an apple. I don’t bother fixing my hair, letting the long strands whip against my face as I head toward the car.
I always spend my days off at the care home. Today, my motives are twofold. For one, I’ll get to spend as much quality time with Nan as I can. For two, I’ll be reminded of the harsh realities of my life, beyond Ben and his brief visit in Pine Hill.
Chapter Eight
Ben
I’m the first one at the diner again, ringing the bell over the door as I walk inside. This time, Raelynn looks up and spots me straight away, one of her dark blonde eyebrows cocking up in question.
I don’t say a word as I head toward my seat at the counter.
She grabs a mug and sets it down in front of me, watching me with cunning eyes as she pours my coffee.
“You gonna make this a habit, Castillo?”
I shrug and bring the mug to my mouth, blowing away the steam for a second before I take my first sip. It tastes like crap, but I don’t come to Dale’s for the coffee.
“I came by yesterday and you weren’t here.”
“Did you? Can’t get enough of Cook’s food, huh?” she teases.
My gaze holds hers for a beat too long, my barely-there smile telling her exactly what I can’t get enough of.
She clears her throat and gets busy setting up for the day.
I don’t think she quite realizes what’s happening here, but I can’t say I blame her. She knows nothing about me or what’s been happening in my life this past year. She doesn’t know how rare it is for me to take an interest in someone, anyone. I should be back at Coach Dalton’s compound, resting before practice starts. Instead, I woke up at the crack of dawn and drove myself to a crappy roadside diner so I could have the pleasure of being in Raelynn’s company while she works. She has a magnetism about her—a lure I can’t escape. Maybe it’s just been so long since I’ve been around a woman who’s not a part of the professional athlete scene. I could namedrop some of my friends and she’d probably blink up at me, bored.