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“Well, yeah.” He scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I told you I’d try to do bett—oof.”
Before he could finish, she’d tossed the flowers onto the couch and threw herself at him. He stumbled back a step before catching himself and closing his arms around her. He had no clue what he did to get such a reward, but he rested his cheek on her head and enjoyed it anyway. When she hugged him close, something deep within him warmed.
Something he didn’t recognize…or want to recognize.
And when she pulled back, ending the hug way too quickly, he was almost relieved because those unfamiliar emotions freaked him out. He tightened his hold on her hips, torn between wanting to pull her back into his arms or to push her away. That had been the first time she’d touched him intimately—because, hell yes, a hug like that was intimate in his book—of her own accord, and not part of their deception.
“What was that for?”
She smiled up at him. “The flowers.”
Ah. The flowers. Not just the act of flowers, since he’d done that before and she couldn?
??t have cared less, but the type he’d gotten. Well, hell, if he got a hug every time he did something thoughtful for her, he’d do it all the damn time.
He was all about rewards. Especially when it came to Maggie.
A stray piece of hair fell across her face, so he pushed it away from her cheek gently, staring into her eyes as he did so. It might be cliché, but damned if he couldn’t get lost in those swirling blue-grey depths for hours if she let him. “You’re welcome.”
Moving out of his arms, she picked the flowers up and walked across the room. Halfway there, she stopped and glanced back at the couch with a frown. “Did you…did you straighten up in here? The pillows…and the coffee mugs…and where are my shoes?”
Shit.
She’d noticed.
“Well…I…” He eyed the neatened couch nervously, and the shoes he’d set by the door. He hadn’t meant to do it, it had just sort of happened. “Uh…you did say to make myself at home.”
She laughed, the musical sound washing over him. “I did, didn’t I? It’s cool. I don’t care if you need to make my couch pretty to sit on it, Benji.”
It’s not that he needed to. It’s that for his whole life, he’d had his mother telling him that he had to put on his best face, and never let anyone see him in anything but perfect order. That had stuck with him and made him the man he was today. One that liked order instead of chaos. But he didn’t say any of that.
Why would he?
So he just tugged on his bowtie and checked the time. “Once you’re ready, we need to go.”
“Okay, just give me a second,” she called out from the kitchen. “I’ll be right out.”
He grabbed her jacket off the chair where she’d thrown it, straightened the pillow, and waited by the door. When she came out, the oxygen disappeared from the room all over again. Something of what he felt must have shown on his face, because she paused mid-step. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s just… You look absolutely gorgeous.” He swallowed, but it was harder than it should have been. “You’ll be the prettiest woman there, inside and out.”
“Thanks. But I’m seriously unqualified to be going to this event.”
“Bullshit. You don’t ever have to be nervous walking into a room full of stuck-up snobs, because you’re better than all of them combined.” He crossed the room and stopped in front of her, toe-to-toe. “You’re too good for me. So thank you for doing this.”
She licked her red lips, her cheeks almost matching her lipstick. “I’m not too good for you, Benji.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Yes. You are.” He skimmed his knuckles over the soft skin of her arm, watching with fascination as goose bumps rose where he touched. An answering desire crashed through him. “But the fact that you don’t realize that? It’s what makes you so damn special.”
She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.
The pull between the two of them was overwhelming, and it took every single damn ounce of his self-control not to kiss her. If he broke down and did it, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he’d promised to take things slow, as friends—like the dumb-ass he was.
When he didn’t lean in and close the distance between them, he swore he saw a flash of disappointment run across her expression. Though maybe that was wishful thinking on his part because, damn it, he wished she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“We should go,” she said softly. Turning her back to him, she peeked over her shoulder. He didn’t move, just clutched her jacket tightly. “Benjamin?”
“Right.” He held it up, and she slid her arms inside. When she turned around and faced him, he caught the lapels of her coat and smiled. “Ready?”
