My family is never impressed with anything I do. They’re all mental giants. And while my mom isn’t an egghead like my dad and brothers, she owns a very successful beauty spa and salon that boasts A-list celebrity clients.
I shouldn’t have offered Janelle advice, though. She shot me dirty looks all afternoon when she wasn’t able to get up on her skis, like it was my fault she couldn’t do it. But my conscience is clear. I gave her good suggestions, training I got from a pro.
I close my eyes when I think of that conversation with Ben about my lessons. I didn’t lie to him per se, but I didn’t exactly disclose that a world-champion athlete who works at my dad’s resort oversaw my training. And, fine, it’s not exactly his resort, but he owns a majority stock, so he’s basically the boss even though some other guy oversees it.
After I dry off, I tug on a tank and sleep shorts, eager to dive into bed. I crack open the bathroom door and spot Olly with his new girlfriend, making out on the couch. I quietly edge around them and sneak into my bedroom.
I come to a halt when I nearly collide with Ben’s bare chest.
Hello, Mr. Man Candy.
Yes, he was wearing swim trunks all afternoon, but I made a point to not ogle him.
But now? For some dumb reason, I wasn’t expecting to find him half-dressed, and since I’m exhausted, my defenses are low.
Before I can stop myself, my eyes take in his bronzed skin and broad shoulders. The beautiful definition in his chest and abs. He’s cut and lean, the perfect specimen of male beauty.
He towers over me, and I tilt my head back and stare up at him. Amusement tugs at his lips.
“Hey, sunshine. Did you have fun today?”
God, I love when he calls me that. “So much fun. Thank you.”
“You’re a boss on the water.”
I laugh and let myself get lost in his dark eyes for a moment. Ugh, he’s so handsome with those chiseled cheekbones and full lips. And his deep, raspy voice is so sexy, I want to scale him like El Capitan.
But what makes him so alluring isn’t just the fact that he’s barely dressed. It’s also how he spent so much time with Lily today. Talking baby talk and making silly faces to make her laugh.
I swallow and step back, but not before I take a quick peek at his eight-pack abs that narrow into gray sweatpants.
Oh, my good Lord. Gray sweatpants. Clinging to his lean hips. Jesus, take the wheel.
Coughing, I turn away before I check out his package and reach for my gym bag where I grab a hair tie and attempt to wrangle my damp hair into a bun.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him tug on a snug white t-shirt that only makes him more yummy. What is it about a form-fitting t-shirt that makes a man so sexy?
“Is Lily all set for tonight?”
He nods. “She’s sound asleep in her mother’s room. We wore her out.” He smiles, and it makes my heart happy to know he made some headway with his daughter today.
“You had Lily eating out of the palm of your hand tonight.”
“Literally. She nearly bit off my finger when I was feeding her.”
We laugh, and I climb into bed as he turns off the lights, and I ignore how lovely and domesticated this feels. Ben’s not mine, I remind myself.
Still, I can’t deny how I want more of this, whatever this is. So when he settles next to me, I turn to him and tuck my hands under my head. “I told you Lily would come around.”
He mimics my position, and even though the room is only illuminated with the moonlight streaming in from a window, I can make out the pleased expression on his face. “You did. And I’m shocked by how happy it made me.”
“You’re going to be a great father. Never doubt that.”
“Thanks. It means a lot to me that you’d think that.”
In whispers, he tells me all the adorable things his daughter did today. I can smell his minty breath and sandalwood soap and wish I could snuggle with him.
I know I shouldn’t read into the intimacy of this moment. I have to remind myself we’re not really dating.
This right here is what I was missing in my relationship with Cal. What began as a hookup with him never extended beyond that. Yes, we eventually had substantial conversations, but he never missed an opportunity to have sex.
Deep down, I don’t think he ever gave himself to me as a friend. We were fuck buddies and then lovers, but never friends, I realize.
I fault myself for letting it happen. I’d had a casual hookup before Cal, but that was a one-time thing that happened with a friend of mine back in California. Even after having sex with Hunter, I never wanted more or caught feelings, and I mistakenly thought that meant I could do casual sex and not get invested.
Ben reaches out and presses his thumb between my eyes, and I laugh. “You were frowning.”
“Just, uh, thinking about all the mistakes I made last year.”
“I’ve made plenty myself.” He studies my face. “Speaking of mistakes... been meaning to thank you for being such a good friend to my sister. I... I haven’t always been there for her. I’m sure you know that.”
“She said you did your best.”
“You’ve probably heard about my panic attacks.”
“She never went into details. She would never do that. All I knew was that you both went through a lot growing up, and you felt bad for getting adopted by your uncle when she didn’t.”
“Yeah, but it’s worse than that.”
He clears his throat, and I reach out and place my palm on his arm. “You don’t have to talk about it or share anything too difficult.”
After a moment, he surprises me. “I’m finding it’s good to talk about it. Been seeing a therapist since last fall because this shit with my sister was so ridiculous.”
“Your feelings are not ridiculous. You can’t help what you feel, and the trauma we experience as kids affects our psyche more intensely than as adults. So while we can be rational as adults and think, ‘That shouldn’t bother me,’ childhood abuse or trauma or neglect doesn’t care that you’re older. It seems to plant its seeds deeper than things we experience now, and the best we can do is take the time to accept those hurts and work through them.”
He chuckles. “You sound like Dr. Patricia. Maybe I should pay you instead to head-shrink me.”
“It sounds like your therapist is working for you.” I don’t mention one of my mom’s clients is a world-renowned psychiatrist with her own TV show I like to watch sometimes or that she ‘head-shrunk’ me plenty after my parents divorced. I’d started having trouble in school, and my dad thought I needed help.
But my mom has forbidden me from sharing that with anyone because the one time the media caught wind of me and my mom leaving a psychiatrist’s office, the headlines the next day said I was “going crazy because I was off my meds” and was the reason my parents split up, which is a fucked-up thing to say about a kid. Of course, my father sued the tabloid and won. That only made the jerks at school pick on me more. Thus, my mom’s rule.
“Dr. Patricia is great. I got to a good place where I can talk to my sister and not break out into a cold sweat or have nightmares, which is what would happen ever since we got separated as kids. I’d be fine for a while, but then I’d get a rare chance to see her, and my uncle says I’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night.” He runs his hand through his tousled hair. “I’d have these dreams where she was killed in the same car crash as our mom, or instead of my mom, it was Gabby driving. It terrified me. I still get kinda fucked up anytime I have to drive in the rain.”