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“Mrs. Clarke…” He peeks past me and his blue eyes widen when he sees Bennett. “Mr. Clarke.” He waves wildly before turning back to me. “Mr. K, said he was back,” he whispers. “Well…is he?”
“Knox, would your mother be happy to know that you’re engaging in idle gossip?” I raise an eyebrow at the fifteen-year-old and he gives me a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, Mrs. Clarke.” He blushes and I feel heat at my back.
It’s then I note the vase of flowers on the floor next to him and I point at the arrangement.
“Are those for me?”
He clears his throat and his eyes shift from me to Bennett. “Yes, ummm, ma’am. They were delivered a while ago. Mr. K wasn’t sure if we should bring them up.”
“Well, they’re mine.” I frown.
“Yes but…” He looks at Bennett who I know is behind me and then me again and I hold my hands out.
“Oh, they must be from your boyfriend.” Bennett snorts. “Good seeing you, Knox.” He turns back inside and I scowl at him behind his back before turning back to Knox.
“Good seeing you too, Mr. Clarke!” he calls after him.
“Thank you so much, and tell your mother I said hello.”
“I will. Have a good night, Mrs. Clarke,” he says with a wave before he makes his way towards the elevator.
I close the
door and Bennett is standing, his arms crossed, looking angry and sexy and like he’s about to lose his shit and my sex clenches in response to what I know to be Bennett’s jealous and protective side. “He’s sending you flowers?”
“Some men send women flowers when they fuck up,” I snap as I walk by him.
“That’s not the way to your heart though.” He quips as he follows me to the kitchen. “Flowers are nice after the mind numbing orgasms.”
“Excuse me?” I raise an eyebrow at him. I try to ignore the way my body reacts to his mention of orgasms and more importantly the idea of him giving me orgasms.
“When you’re pissed at me, I make you come.” Fuck.
“Okay first of all, untrue. And secondly, when have I ever really been pissed at you? I mean besides the obvious.”
“I’m sure there have been times. I’d draw you a bath, give you a glass of wine, and fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were upset.” He gives me a crooked smile. “And I’d write you a note.”
He was right, that did usually work. Fucker.
Bennett bought me flowers all the time, for birthdays and anniversaries and congratulations and for no reason at all, but rarely did he use them to say he was sorry.
He was good with his words and his dick.
What did he need flowers for?
I had shoeboxes full of the notes Bennett had written me over the years, and while Alyssa wanted me to burn them, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’d poured his heart and soul into some of those notes and some were just plain dirty and sexy and sometimes a girl wants to read those.
Especially when she’s going through a divorce and lonely as hell.
“I’m so sorry, Liv. Please call me.” Bennett reads aloud and crumples the note. “How unoriginal. Fucking pussy.”
“Bennett!” I exclaim as I try and grab the small index card from him.
“What? He should be here apologizing to your face. Not that I think it should matter. He’s not right for you, Olivia.” He tosses the card in the trash, and in the back of my mind, I make a note to unpack the fact that I don’t go in after it.
“Oh, and who is right for me? You?” I don’t mean for the words to slip out and definitely not that harshly but I knew we’d be having this argument regardless of who it was.
