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“No.” He reached out and rested a hand on hers. “My father had a heart attack. While they rushed him to the hospital, I was out drinking and getting laid. I didn’t even make it home before he died, and ever since, I’ve been trying to make up for that. I never will, but it doesn’t keep me from trying.”
She watched him closely, as if everything suddenly made sense to her. As if she understood him better now, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. And that uncertainty in the face of opening up to someone was what a real date was supposed to be like. “That wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing he would die that night.”
She was wrong. It was his fault. “It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past. I want to talk about now.” He cupped her cheek and gave her a small smile. “And right now? I want you. I want you so damn bad it hurts. And not just because I want to fuck you. I want all of you, Maggie.”
“I…” Her lids drifted shut, and she let out a small, almost broken sound. “I’m not sure what to say.”
Something stabbed him in the chest, sending a piercing phantom pain throughout his body. He’d known she didn’t want him, but it still hurt. “Do you want me to take it back? To pretend this conversation never happened?”
“I—no.” She hesitated, but shook her head. “I don’t want that at all.”
A strong surge of gratification rushed through him. He’d given her an out, and she hadn’t taken it. “How about this? We treat this whole going out and spending time together like a real thing between us—not romantic, necessarily, but friends. I like you, Maggie, and I want to be your friend.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded once. “I’d like that, Benjamin.”
“Then let’s be real with one another and see where things go. If they turn romantic, we’ll deal with that when it comes.” He shrugged. “But if we stay just friends for the rest of our lives, and only friends, I’m fine with that, too. But I’m not going to lie. I’m hoping for more. And I think you are, too.”
And he would stop at nothing to make sure they both got what they wanted.
She bit the corner of her lower lip. “This thing wouldn’t work. You’re from a different world than I am. We might be able to make it work for the short-term, fake engagement, but real feelings? It would never hold. Statistically speaking, we’re—”
“Do you always read the end of the book before the beginning?”
She lowered her head and peeled her label off her beer. “Well, actually, yeah. I do. Every time.”
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
She shrugged, still staring down at her bottle. “So I know what to expect. I like advance warning, so I don’t get attached to anyone or anything that doesn’t make it to the end.”
“That might work in fiction, but in real life?” He caught her hand, stopping her from peeling the label off any more than she already had. “You can’t skip ahead to the end, especially not with us. There’s no way in hell to know how it’ll end.”
“But—” Her fingers curled into a fist inside his. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”
“We’ll take it slow. Real slow. Spend time together. Start at the beginning of our story, and we’ll figure out the end when we get there.” He gave her a small smile. “So, what do you say? Do you want to read our story with me?”
She laughed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m saying this…but yes. Slowly. As friends.”
“Excellent.” He grinned, resisting the urge to pick her up and kiss her. He’d just gotten her agreement to give him a chance to—hell, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing when it came to Maggie. But he’d figure it out as he went, like he’d said. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “I can’t wait to get to the sex scenes, though. I assure you, they’ll be worth a second read.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. It was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard, hands down. “You’re incorrigible, Benji.”
He scowled. “About that name—”
“I tried it on for size because it felt right.” She shot him a cocky grin and finished off her beer. The crowds around them had thinned out. “I was right. It stays.”
“Fine, darling.” He stood up and helped her to her feet, holding on to both of her hands. His blood rushed hotter when she didn’t immediately move away. “If it stays, so does this.”
Lowering his head, he gave her plenty of time to back off, or turn away. She didn’t. She actually fisted his jacket and tugged him closer, so he melded his mouth to hers. He kept the kiss sweet and short, not wanting to push her too hard or too fast. When he pulled back, his entire body protesting the motion, he rested his forehead on hers.
Her breasts touched his chest, and she clung to him. It took every ounce of his self-control not to press closer to her. To not take more than a damn kiss.
Being with her, holding her in his arms, made everything thing seem brighter. Happier. Shinier. He had no fucking idea what any of that meant, but there was no denying it anymore. He’d never wanted to have someone so badly before, and that definitely meant something, so he’d keep his hands to himself. Keep his eye on the goal. Be patient. Caring. Understanding.
And in the end…he’d win.
Chapter Eight
Four days.
