I sniff and look away.
Ben gives me relative privacy to gather myself by picking up his sandwich and taking a huge bite. He groans like it’s remarkably delicious.
“Now this is a world-class peanut butter and jelly. Wow, where’d you learn to cook like this?”
A relieved laugh bursts out of me, and I shake my head to let him know he’s being absolutely ridiculous. But he’s helping. I turn back, pick up my own sandwich, and take a bite, feeling the tension start to ease from my stomach.
He takes another bite and feigns utter ecstasy as his eyes roll back in his head.
“Where’d this bread come from? Some French bakery?”
I grin. “It’s just your standard white bread from Piggly Wiggly.”
He chokes on his bite. “That cannot be the name of a real place.”
“Piggly Wiggly? It sure is. No Trader Joe’s in Pine Hill.”
“What kind of food can you get there?”
While we eat the rest of our sandwiches, I regale him with stories about all Piggly Wiggly has to offer: live crawfish by the pound in late spring, cans of soda for less than a dollar, the best local jams and pickles and honey you can find.
He eats every lick of the PB&J I made him and cleans his own plate in the tiny sink, looking back at me after he dries it so I can tell him where it goes.
“Just up there on that shelf,” I say, pointing to the right of his head.
He lays it down carefully and then turns.
Standing in the middle of the trailer like that—tall and formidable—it’s funny to see how much space he takes up. I think he could easily stretch his arms out and touch both walls if he wanted to. I’d forgotten, momentarily, what a strange thing it is to have him in here with me. I’m always alone here at night.
The song of the cicadas and crickets pours in to fill the quiet as I finish my sandwich and stand to clean my plate. Ben’s still hovering by the sink, and he doesn’t budge when I come over.
He turns and props his hip against the counter, and I stare up at him with a quizzical brow.
When he doesn’t look away, I scrunch my nose. “What?”
“You’ve got peanut butter on your cheek.”
I swipe at it with my hand, and his devilish grin spreads wider.
Clearly, I didn’t get it.
The paper towel roll is mounted under the cabinet behind him, so I lean forward and yank off a sheet. My shoulder brushes his arm in the process, and that little bit of contact is too much. Alarm bells ring in my head. Every hair on my body seems to stand on end in warning. Tread lightly. This is not a man to trifle with. Ben is…a black hole. And I’d do well to remember that.
I wipe my cheek, and then wipe it again for good measure. Ben nods, takes the paper towel from my hand, bunches it up, and shoots it through the air like a basketball. As expected, it sails straight into the itty-bitty trash can sitting at the end of the counter.
“Showoff,” I tease, trying to play off the moment as I take a step back and cross my arms over my chest. It’s a defensive pose and I know that, but we’re in uncharted territory and I’m uncomfortable with all the possibilities that lie before us.
He said he wanted to see me home safely, and he has.
I made him a sandwich and he ate it up.
It’s time for him to leave.
Leave or…
He takes a step toward me. I step back. His dark lashes cluster together as he narrows his eyes, looking down at me with a question in his gaze.
Another step forward and another step back.
There’s no way around it. Evolution has programmed my brain to be wary of predators his size. He’s more bear than man. What do they feed these NBA players, anyway? Straight protein with an extra dose of steroids?
Unfortunately, my retreat has only piqued his interest. I would have been better off playing dead.
There’s a spark in his brown eyes that should make me leery of what’s about to happen, but instead of cowering, I step forward and meet him head on.
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?” I blurt out suddenly, holding my hands up to his chest to block him.
His smile unfurls in slow motion, stopping my heart in its tracks.
“I was thinking about it.”
Chapter Eleven
Ben
Raelynn’s small hand sits square in the center of my chest in an effort to fend me off, and I comply. I stay right where I am as my heart drums against her hand, a dead giveaway for how I feel about her, but I don’t think she notices.
Her full lips tilt down in a fragile frown. Her blue eyes are wide, fringed with dark blonde lashes that catch the shallow light inside the trailer. I can count her freckles from this angle. Touch every single one.
“Ben—”
She’s breathless.
I’m in a trance as I look down at her. Two more steps and I’d have her pinned against the edge of her table. My hands could wrap around her waist and I’d lift her so damn easily. The only thing that stops me, the thing that pulls me out of my own head, is that helpless expression she’s wearing, a combination of fear and anxiety.
I suck in a breath and shutter my want, trying to tease her and lighten the mood.
“So kissing is off the table?”
My joke doesn’t calm her worries. She looks deathly serious when she replies, “Absolutely.”
“Then stop looking at my mouth.”
Her eyes jerk up to meet mine. “I wasn’t!”
I laugh and attempt to move past her, but her flimsy hand keeps me pinned right where I am. She levels me with a shrewd stare I’m sure she hopes will make me quiver; it doesn’t.
“What’s your game, anyway?” she asks with an interrogative tone. Her hand starts pushing against me, but I don’t move. I take that pressure and feed off it. “What are you playing at? You and your teammates make some kind of bet to see who can bag a townie?”
I hold her gaze and reply honestly. “No.”
“Is this a diversion for you then? Some kind of midlife crisis?”
I scratch the back of my neck, fighting against an amused smile. “How old do you think I am?”
Her fingers fist my shirt in desperation. “Spit it out then! What are you doing with me?!”
Her question stops me dead in my tracks.
What am I doing with her? What the hell am I doing here? In her trailer?
Truthfully, I haven’t thought that far ahead with Raelynn. For so long, everything in my life has been so damn complicated. Except for her. When I’m with her I feel like a teenager again—back before the scouts started noticing me, back when basketball wasn’t my whole damn life. I chased girls. I fell for them and they wanted me right back. It was easy, fun, nothing like the last few years.
How do I say that though?
How do I look at this woman I still barely know and say, I like the way you make me feel. I like your presence in a room. You draw me in and I don’t have a fighting chance of staying away from you.
She narrows her eyes, and I know if I stay in this trailer with her for one second longer, I’m going to lose the battle against the devil on my shoulder. It’s time for me to leave. I shouldn’t drag her into my mess.
I step away and her hand drops from my chest, hanging limp at her side.