Just for a second.
Our eyes met.
I felt it like a jolt, a recognition, an awareness, and something unspoken that buzzed in the air and hummed down to my fingertips.
He gave a polite nod, but still no smile.
And then he was gone. Out the door, into the crisp morning, leaving nothing but the scent of coffee and confusion in his wake.
Abby clucked her tongue like a matchmaking hen. “He’s broody, I’ll give him that. You sure you don’t want to slip a scone into his glove compartment?”
I rolled my eyes and reached for my muffin. “Absolutely not.”
But by the time I finished my latte and breakfast and headed back to Honey Leaf, the man wouldn’t leave my mind.
I had one earbud in, with my favorite cleaning chaos playlist queued up, and a caddy full of supplies in my hand when I turned the corner and nearly smacked into abrick wall made of flannel.
“Whoa!” I yelped, stumbling back a step.
The wall grunted, except it wasn’t a wall.
It was Ben.
Of course, it was Ben.
Why was italwaysBen?
He blinked down at me, dark brows furrowing like I’d personally offended him by existing in the same hallway. He had his keys in hand and a slightly damp, towel-draped look like he’d just finished a shower. The scent of his soap, something woodsy and warm, hit me straight in the chest like a slow-motion body slam. Obviously, our soaps smelled good on him.
“You again,” he muttered.
I held up the cleaning caddy like a peace offering. “Surprise. I live here now.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you following me?”
I blinked. Then burst out laughing. “You’re joking, right?”
“Not really.”
“You think I followed you here? To your room? With a toilet brush?”
He looked pointedly at the toilet brush.
“Well, now that you mention it,” I said, adopting my best scandalized Southern belle voice, “Ihavealways dreamed of cleaning stranger bathrooms as a form of seduction.”
He didn’t laugh.
Of course not.
But the corner of his mouth twitched like a smirk was attempting an escape.
“Remember, I work here,” I said, more gently this time. “Your room is on the second-floor rotation today. Room refresh. I checked you in yesterday. Ring a bell like ding-a-ling-ling?”
“Right.” He stepped to the side, still eyeing me like I was going to hex his bath towels. “Just seemed like I keep… running into you.”
I shrugged. “I’m extremely huggable. People gravitate.”
He gave a low noise that might’ve been a laugh, or indigestion, then turned down the hall toward his room, boots thudding softly on the hardwood.
