by Nia Arthurs
Definitely a date.
“Ooh.” He could imagine his sister wiggling her eyebrows as she cooed. “I guess I’ve still got the skills.”
“What skills?” He snorted.
“Don’t mock me. I set up three of my college friends with their future husbands. I knew I had a good feeling about you and Carrie.”
“Right.” He straightened. “Where are you? At the airport? Should I pick you up?”
“Don’t bother. Luis is coming for me. Have fun with Carrie.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“I’m proud of you, Benson.”
He paused. “For dating Carrie?”
“For being worthy of her. I wouldn’t trust Carrie with just anyone. You’re a good man.”
Benson shuddered. “Ugh.”
“I know it was weird for me too. Bye, moron.”
“Much better.” He laughed and hung up.
It was time to pick up Carrie. Benson wiped his sweaty palms against his jogging shorts.
He sure hoped this went well.
Benson watched Carrie’s reaction as he led her into the private gym. Her eyes sparkled and she darted her gaze around the room as if she couldn’t decide on what to stare at first.
He smirked, delighting in her reaction. Belize’s kickboxing facilities were pretty standard to those in Korea. Lockers to the right. A large, raised ring right in front of them. Punching bags to the left.
Nothing to gawk at.
Still, Carrie’s reaction made convincing his old buddy to give him the keys all worth it.
“This is fantastic!” Carrie flipped her long braid over her shoulder. A yellow tank top showed off her lean arms and tiny shorts cupped her rear. With that outfit and those tennis shoes, she easily pulled off the sexy yet sporty look.
“Let’s start with the basics,” Benson said, pulling the strap of his duffel bag over his neck and planting it on the ground.
“Why?” Carrie pouted. “I wanna fight.”
Her pleading expression sparked a smile. Benson hadn’t been sure what mood she’d be in after blowing up on him yesterday. To his surprise, she’d been talkative and upbeat since she got into the car.
“Have you fought before?” he asked.
She tilted her head, looking adorably focused even though they both knew she hadn’t done a lick of training. “Um… no.”
“Then basics it is.” He led the way to the punching bag. Benson took his time teaching her proper form and technique. Carrie soaked it up like a sponge. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Good.” Benson held the punching bag and coached her. “Let’s go!” Carrie slammed her fists into the bag with such force he was momentarily dazed. “Wow. You got something you wanna work out?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
Benson let her throw a few more punches before he was satisfied. Next, they moved into the ring. Carrie jogged to the center of the platform and punched the air. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“Slow down there, slugger.”
“Let me guess,” Carrie grumbled. “More basics?”
“And this helmet.” He tossed it to her, waiting until she’d put it on to explain, “First move. The jab”—he demonstrated—“and the cross.”
“Jab and cross,” Carrie murmured. “Okay.”
“The jab uses the lead hand.” He bent his knees and gave an example. “The cross uses the rear.”
“Lead and rear.” Carrie threw two weak punches.
He chuckled.
Her eyes sharpened. “You just laughed at me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did!” She frowned.
“It’s just… that was cute.”
“Cute?” She threw a punch at his head. He easily ducked out of the way. Her hands falling to her hips, she scrunched her nose. “Well, what am I doing wrong?”
“The jab is a quick punch.” He watched her follow his example and nodded. “The cross requires that you twist your hips and focus all your strength.”
“Like this?”
“No.” He shook his head and planted his hands on her waist to guide her. His lips brushed the back of her neck and his heart thudded when he said softly, “Like that.”
Carrie glanced over her shoulder so they were nose to nose. “I see.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, flustered. Carrie was being uncharacteristically tame with the sexual propositions today yet every little thing she did was still dripping in seduction.
“I think I got it now.” Carrie threw a few jabs and crosses.
He nodded and walked around her, correcting her form and shouting out tips. Finally, he nodded. “I think you’re ready for a spar.”
“What about kicking?”
“We’ll save that for another time.”
“That’s pretty arrogant of you. Assuming there’ll be another time.”
“How about we have a wager? I win, you go out with me. Officially. You win, I give you what you want.”
Her eyebrows shuttled high. “Are you serious?”
He nodded.
Carrie grinned victoriously. “Deal.”
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said, rotating his shoulders and jumping in place to warm up his muscles.
Carrie pulled her shirt off, revealing a bright yellow tank top underneath. Her glossy skin glistened from the sweat of their training and her chest rose and fell with every breath.
Benson licked his lips and then forced his gaze away. Don’t fall into her trap. She’s trying to distract you.
Carrie bounced in place. “First one to knock the other down wins.”
“Whoa, why don’t we just lower the bar a little?”
“No.” She raised her hand and crouched into position. “The first one on the floor.”
Benson shrugged. This would be too easy.
He circled Carrie, alert and on the balls of his feet. It would take precision to rein in his strength so he didn’t apply too much power and hurt her. Tone it down. Carrie’s face was more important than winning a bet.
“Why are we just circling each other?” Carrie asked after a few moments of their dance. “Aren’t you going to throw a punch?”
“You first.”
She chuckled. “This isn’t much of a fight.”
“Fine.” He jabbed at her head, going slowly enough that she could see him coming. Carrie caught the movement and threw a cross, using her hips the way he’d taught her.
Good girl.
Getting into the spirit of things, Benson tossed a jab at her helmet. Carrie went careening back. “Ow! Ow!”
Dropping his hands immediately, Benson stalked toward her. “Car, are you alright?”
“Psych!” Carrie rose, delivered two jabs and a cross and swiped his unstable legs from under him. Benson was on his back, gasping for breath before he knew what hit him.
“Yes!” Carrie threw her helmet off and danced. “Got yah.”
Benson rose on his elbows and glared at her. “That’s cheating.”
“You didn’t say anything in the rules about getting creative.” Carrie dropped on top of him and straddled his hips. “What do I win again?”
He pursed his lips.
Benson hated losing. With a passion.
“I call foul.”
“Mm-hm.” She grazed her mouth across his.
His irritation faded a little.
Okay, a lot.
Still, Benson couldn’t let her questionable win go. It was the principle of the thing. “I call for a rematch.”
“Do you know you talk a lot?” Carrie asked, straightening her shoulders and slanting him an amused look.
He sat up fully, allowing her to remain perched on his lap. “I should have known better than to trust you.”
“I guess I’ll add sore loser to the list.”
“What list?” He ran his hands up her sides. Now that he’d lost, he might as well enjoy it.
His breath hitched.
Carrie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shifted nervously. “Look, this is hard for me. The day I met you, I swore I’d never date anyone again. My heart has been through a lot and it’s kind of a mess.”
“Hey, I’m not afraid. I’ll love every scar.” He kissed her shoulder.
“I know.” She cupped his cheeks and ran her thumb over his jaw. “You’re incredible. I saw that from a long time ago, but it seemed too good to be true. You’re too good to be true. And I don’t trust ‘good’ anymore. I’m not used to it.”
He tilted his head, listening intently.
“I don’t know what we are, but being around you makes me feel safe and treasured. Whether or not this is just an act, I don’t know. But I’m willing to find out.”
Benson pumped his fists. “I’ve waited so long for this.”
Carrie giggled.
“I’ll take it.” He spun her around so she was flat on the mat and draped his body over hers. “That little speech was nice, babe.” Benson captured her bottom lip in his mouth and tugged. “I liked it.”
They kissed deeply.
Benson held nothing back.
So… Carrie hadn’t actually admitted to liking him, but those words weren’t necessary. He understood what she’d meant.
Benson dragged his mouth away from hers and dropped it down to her neck. She was still sweaty from their spar, but the drops glistening on her flawless brown skin made her that much more enticing. He licked his way down before reaching for the hem of her shorts.
Carrie pushed his chest. He felt a flash of anxiety. Had she changed her mind?
He paused and looked at her. “Something wrong?”
“No, it’s—I want to do this in a proper bed. Last time, it was on the beach and now we’ve got a mat...”
Benson glanced around. He’d been more than ready to get down and dirty on the floor, but if he tugged his brain out of his pants for a moment, he could see where Carrie was coming from.
“I concede the point.” He climbed off her and reached out to help her up. “Your place?”
“Yes, please…”
Benson dragged her to the door. He was so eager to leave that it took two tries to get the key into the lock. He finally got the blasted thing to turn and rushed to the car.
They climbed in.
Benson started driving.
Carrie dropped her hand in his lap.
A phone chirped.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“Benson,” Carrie said laughingly, “I think that’s yours.”
“Ignore it.”
“You sure?” Carrie leaned over and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, distracting him so much he almost pulled off the road.
“How much farther to your apartment?”
She chuckled huskily.
The phone went silent.
Then it blared again.
One hand on the wheel, he rummaged around his duffel. Offering her the phone, he asked, “Can you answer that?”
Carrie obliged. “Hello, this is Benson Choi?”
He glanced at her, grinning like a lunatic. Carrie had him in the palm of her hands and she had no idea.
“What?” Carrie’s expression fell and she clutched his arm. “Okay, we’ll be right there.”
Benson frowned. “Who was it?”
“The hospital,” Carrie said frantically.
“Why would they—?”
“It’s Stacie.” Carrie stared at him with frightened eyes. “She’s been in an accident.”
22
Carrie paced in the hospital waiting room. She was smelly, sweaty and desperately needed to change her underwear, but the thought of leaving never once crossed her mind.
Her gaze wandered to Benson. He sat straight up in the black chair, his eyes fastened on the wall as if a movie was playing across the white surface. She hadn’t seen him blink much. Or move. Or breathe.
Every so often, Carrie knelt in front of him and stuck her finger below his nostrils to make sure he was alive and hadn’t gone into shock.
Footsteps echoed off the tiles.
Benson’s head shot that way.
Carrie stopped pacing and stood in place, wringing her hands together. Stacie had been in surgery for the past half-hour. The nurses hadn’t given them much information when they rushed in, but an orderly had promised to come and update them soon.
Instead of the dark-skinned woman in all-white scrubs, Carrie saw a familiar face rounding the bend. “Jo?”
“Carrie?” Jo rushed her, long, curly hair flailing. Sun Gi strode beside Jo, his anxious eyes narrowed to slits.
Carrie glanced at him and then looked at her friend. “What are you doing here?”
“The hospital called and said Sun Gi’s friend Luis was in an accident.” Jo grabbed onto her arms and lowered herself into a chair. “Do you know what happened?”
Carrie bowed her head. “Luis picked Stacie up from the airport. They were coming back to Belize City when a semi lost control and wheeled into their side of the highway. The truck driver died on impact.” She licked her lips and whispered, “Luis’s leg got pinned. Stacie’s in critical condition.”
“I’m so sorry, Benson.” Jo gasped.
Benson blinked rapidly. “She’s gonna be alright.”
Carrie nodded, but inside she wasn’t so sure. The nurses had shrugged them off, but from the way the doctors had been staring grimly at each other, she’d known the odds weren’t in their favor.
“I hope your sister makes it.” Sun Gi dipped his head. “Babe, I’ll go find Luis.”
Jo linked her arms around Carrie’s. “Yeah. I’ll just stay here with Jo until they hear something.”
Sun Gi strode off.
Carrie slipped her hands from Jo’s grip. “Are you sure you should be staying with me? I heard Luis got banged up too. Sun Gi might want support.”
“My man’s got this.” Jo waved away her advice and then leaned closer to murmur, “I’m more worried about yours.” Her gaze darted to Benson before it landed on Carrie’s face. “Are you sure he’s okay?”
Carrie glanced over her shoulder. Benson had returned to his original position staring at the wall. “I don’t know. He doesn’t want to talk.”
Jo opened her mouth but, before she could say anything, a doctor rounded the bend. Carrie recognized him as the man who’d spoken to them about the surgery. She, Jo and Benson shot to their feet.
“Mr. Choi?” The doctor’s tan face was lined with wrinkles. He wearily pushed up his glasses, gaze on the floor.
Carrie’s heart twisted. This guy didn’t look like someone with good news.
“How’s my sister?” Benson asked. His voice was steady and calm, but she saw the trembling line of his throat and knew he wasn’t as put-together as he seemed.
Carrie glided to Benson’s side and held his hand. He looked at her, but his gaze was vacant. Like he wasn’t actually seeing her at all. Like he was seeing through her.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “She didn’t make it.”
A powerful yet invisible hand slammed her in the gut. Carrie barreled over, stunned and hurting. Benson remained upright, his gaze on the doctor. His huge feet were planted firmly on the floor, unwavering.
“What happened?” he asked. This time, Carrie could hear the slight tremor in his words. “What… where is my sister?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “No…”
“It’s okay.” Jo surrounded her in a warm embrace. “It’s okay, Carrie.”
As tears spilled down her cheeks, she glanced at Benson. His eyes were red and glassy, but he didn’t cry. Thick eyelashes fanned up and down. He pulled his lips in as if uttering one more word would break him.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Choi.”
Benson bounced his head up and down. “I… know you did everything you cou
ld.”
“Be strong.” The doctor squeezed his shoulder and waddled off.
Carrie, with Jo’s help, managed to stand. She stumbled over to Benson and threw her arms around him. He accepted her, woodenly patting her back. Carrie cried harder, feeling even more horrible as she did.
How selfish was she? Carrie had lost her boss, yeah, but Benson had lost his sister. She was supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around.
Tendrils of her hair clung to her tear-stained cheeks. Carrie shook the wisps away and noted Benson’s hardening expression. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I don’t think it’s sunken in yet.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
Benson nodded, but Carrie got the sense that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Concerned, she discussed it with Jo a few minutes later when Benson left to contact his aunt and uncle in Korea.
“Is he really okay?” Carrie asked, staring at Benson’s strong back as he disappeared from the waiting room.
“Of course not.” Jo rummaged in her purse to pull out her cell phone. “He’s probably devastated, but he’s not allowing himself to break down.”
“What should I do?” Carrie sniffed. “I mean… I’ve never lost anyone before. Never had to plan a funeral. How can I help him?”
“Just be there.” Jo said, staring at her phone.
Carrie peered at Jo’s screen. “Is that Sun Gi?”
“I’m sorry. I have to run. Will you be alright by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Jo squeezed her hand. “Everyone grieves in their own way. Benson might need some space, but don’t give up on him. Be patient, be sensitive and be strong. Okay?”
“Thanks.” Carrie hugged Jo tight and let her go.
Feeling lonely and sad after her friend left, Carrie jogged to the nurses’ station to ask what room Stacie was in.
“Room 104,” she murmured, checking all the wooden doors in the brightly lit hallway. Her gaze landed on the plaque with the number and she strode toward it.
A slight push had the door creaking open.
Carrie shuffled inside and stopped short when she saw Benson holding Stacie’s pale hand to his cheek. He was trembling, murmuring something to her that she couldn’t make out. It sounded like he was crying.