Page 98 of The Gaybor War

"And this—" he pauses, thoughtful, "—is for confidence."

I shift my weight, jaw clenched, painfully aware that my pants have decided now is the time to revolt. I stand very still, hoping he doesn’t notice the situation developing south of my dignity.

Benji glances over. His smile changes, sharpens.

"Oh," he says lightly. "Is this weird?"

I laugh, short and humorless. "You’re unpacking underwear like a villain, monologuing and calculating an evil plan."

He beams. "God, I’ve missed you. Those six hours in the car were too quiet."

He zips the suitcase shut and gestures toward the bed as if this is all perfectly reasonable.

"Relax, Carter. We’re adults."

I don’t sit. I don’t respond. There is one bed. One room. And Benji Stewart, barefoot now, entirely too comfortable in shared space.

My pulse is loud, and my thoughts are not helpful. Because I’m dying to see him in those underwear later… in our bed.

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at absolutely nothing. A few months ago, the idea of sharing a hotel room with Benji Stewart would've sounded like a threat. Now he's unpacking his life beside mine for the weekend, and my biggest concern is whether I'm smiling too much.

The truth lands with uncomfortable clarity.

The bed isn't what has me nervous. It's how much I'm looking forward to waking up beside him.

Chapter 24

Inotice everything.

I notice the way Carter steps into the room and immediately starts evaluating it as if he's conducting a safety or cleanliness inspection.

I notice the way his gaze lands on the bed. Then immediately leaves the bed. Then comes back to the bed. Then leaves again.

Subtle as a fireworks display.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

I did book this room weeks ago. I did know it had one bed. And no, I didn't expect to be sharing it with the man currently pretending furniture isn't affecting him emotionally.

Life is full of surprises.

I kick off my shoes and flop backward onto the mattress. The thing practically swallows me whole. "Wow." I bounce once. Twice. "This is a ridiculous amount of bed."

Carter's eyes narrow. "That's your first observation?"

"No." I spread my arms wider. "My first observation was that the wallpaper is ugly. This is my second."

He shakes his head, but I catch the corner of a smile. Progress.

I sit up and pat the mattress. "It passes inspection."

"I wasn't aware you were qualified."

"I'm qualified in many things."

Carter makes a noise that lives somewhere between a choke and a prayer. There’s no hiding my grin. When I sit up, I dial it back—just enough. Three months ago, Carter would've been planning an escape route. Now he's standing in our hotel room trying very hard to act normal about the fact that we're sharing a weekend.

Honestly? I find it kind of adorable.