“I didn’t think she was going to allow us to leave. It was the Heart-to-Teen fundraiser all over again.” He’s so sincere I have to laugh.
“She was schmoozing you. I think she recognized you and knew how deep your pockets went.”
“I think you slipped her some cash to delay us so I’d want you more.”
The compliment, along with the romantic evening, has hit its mark. I feel special and cherished and sexy and wanted. The glass of wine at dinner went a long way to helping me let go of the workday. He steps closer and tips my chin with one knuckle. I’m drowning in caramel-colored eyes with no desire to be saved.
“How am I supposed to concentrate on the road during our thirty-five-minute drive when I have a hard-on with your name on it?”
“I require a fact-check,” I whisper.
“Monster,” he teases before placing a kiss on the center of my lips. “I’m not obeying any speed limits on the way home.”
Longing wraps itself around the word home and settles deep in my belly, its weight comforting. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense. To me, home has only ever been a place to manage. A place to organize, pay for, and maintain. Benji’s home is different. His home is welcoming and comfortable. A lot like him.
A warning burbles to the surface of my mind, cautioning not to allow his version of home and mine to become synonymous. He might appear to fit seamlessly into every single part of my life as I do into every part of his, but it’s a mirage.
My mother has been married seven times. I’m getting married one time. One. I decreed it when I was fifteen years old and feeling particularly despondent about the permanence of anything. She’d already had a number of men in her life, and I refused to let myself get to know any of them. They never stuck around. I noticed she was always the one who asked them to go.
Even if I never ask him to leave, I know Benji isn’t interested in marriage and family. As comfortable as we are with each other, and as many naked moments as we’ve shared together, I can tell he’s holding back. Protecting himself, similar to the way I protected myself years ago. He’s been hurt before and doesn’t want to risk being hurt again.
The worst part is he’s right to hold back. He must suspect I want more. He doesn’t want to ask me to settle for less than the future I envisioned for myself. And, more importantly, if we try to appease the other and each become people we’re not, we could risk everything.
A friendship ten years in the making, meant to last a lifetime, is a high price to pay no matter how good we are in bed together.
The thought of us becoming bitter and not speaking, the way my mom refuses to speak to any of her exes, hollows out my chest. I recognize the irony, but it doesn’t make it any less true: I love him too much to lose him.
“Who says we have to wait until we get home?” I reach up to play with his hair. The streetlight overhead bathes him in warm light. He’s so freaking gorgeous it’s criminal. And for tonight he’s mine. Which is probably why I boldly add, “Find somewhere dark where we can park. Your backseat looks roomy.”
He studies the sky as a laugh bobs his throat. Then he takes my hand and kisses my palm. “Lesson number…whatever we’re on: Never ever let a guy take you to dinner and then do you in the car. No matter how much of a hurry he’s in.”
I grip his tie and tug his lips to mine, delighted to have the freedom to touch him the way I’ve wanted to for years. Delighted further when he bends to my will. It’s heady, this power. “What if I’m in as much of a hurry?”
His eyes darken to deep brown. His arm lashes around my waist, and I’m pressed against his firm body from breasts to hips. Part of him is quite a bit firmer than the rest.
“Much as I want to give you your way, Firecracker, I’m committed to treating you to more than hurried, backseat sex. But there is another option.” He turns his head. I follow his gaze across the street to where a Crane Hotel towers over the surrounding buildings. Its glass reflects the moonlight boldly, brilliantly, and beautifully. “If you don’t want to wait, you shall not wait.”
I want to argue, but the word “hurried” stalled the idea of car sex. I want to take my time. I’m not sure how much more we have left. I’m learning to put my needs first. He’s a good teacher. I arc my neck to take in the glass and metal shrine that is the hotel. As much as I shouldn’t want to relive the first night I spent with him, especially with hectic feelings swirling around me like debris during a hurricane, I can’t deny myself.
“Lead the way.”
He takes my hand and we jog across the street, the paper bag holding our takeout crinkling against his leg with every other footfall. We’re laughing when we enter the lobby, the heady anticipation of what’s to come having overtaken us.
“Your best room,” he tells the front desk clerk. The Crane Hotel is not a place you rent a room by the hour. My stomach flutters with excitement at the idea of breaking an unwritten rule. While the clerk finds us a room, Benji turns to me and asks, “Maybe we should order donuts from Muse Elephant after all.”
“We can have those delivered for you, sir,” the clerk gleefully informs us. “Shall I add a bottle of champagne to your order?”
Benji shrugs with his mouth, impressed.
“You shall,” he answers her, then he pulls me in for a quick kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cris
The eldest of my three younger brothers is sitting at the head of the kitchen table, his hand wrapped around a bottle of beer. Manuel has been trying to pin me down for over a week, but I’ve been busy doing…well, Benji, quite frankly.
Finally, Manuel and I carved out time to have dinner together. It involved me leaving work instead of going on a run with my boss, but Benji understood. I came home and cooked a simple dinner of macaroni and cheese and tuna steaks. I also steamed a large side of broccoli both Manuel and I ignored.
“I love you,” my brother tells me.
“I love you too,” I respond brightly. I suspect that’s not the end of his sentence. I’m not sure I want to hear the rest of it. Regardless, I prompt, “But?”
“No but, Cris. I love you. You’re my sister. Half-sister, but you know that shit doesn’t matter to me.”
It doesn’t matter to me either. Not that his skin is darker than mine or his father is crazy wealthy or Manuel has the worst habit of leaving his socks scattered through the house. When he lived here, anyway. I miss him.
“It threw me seeing Benji kiss you.” He makes a face like he ate a stalk of disregarded broccoli.
“I know.” I try not to cringe, but I’m not sure I’m successful. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
I nod. That’s true. I have always spent a lot of time with him, but it’s been more than usual lately. Since Manuel has been visiting me more often, he’s noticed when I’m not here.
“I didn’t intend for you to know,” I tell him. “I’ve always tried my best to set a better example for you and Dennis and Timothy than Mom did. Which is why I haven’t dated much. Like you needed one more woman bringing men into your life and then taking them out again.”
It wasn’t lost on me that the boys suffered, if not more than I did, through each of those transitions. I tried to help them withstand the blow, but I also knew my limits.
He leans forward on his chair. His fingers curl around mine and gently squeeze. “You’re not Mom. Will you let me finish what I have to say?”
I nod, making a motion like I’m zipping my lips.
“I’m happy for you.” He grins. Big, bold, and so unexpected.
“You are?” My shoulders drop a few inches.
“Yes,” he says patiently. “You sacrificed your twenties for Dennis, Timothy, and me—”
“It wasn’t a sacrifice.”
“Cris.”
“Sorry.” I press my lips together again.
“I’m twenty-four and I can’t imagine taking care of three kids wh
ile trying to work and have a personal life.” He shakes his head. “I took you for granted when I was younger. Den and Tim still take you for granted, but they’ll come around. I’ll see to it. What I’m saying is you deserve some time for yourself to worry about yourself instead of worrying about everyone else.”
“That’s what Benji keeps telling me.”
My brother nods, so young and yet so wise already. Tears threaten as pride engulfs my being, but I stamp it down.
“Benji’s smart,” he says, serious once again. “Worrying about her kids was supposed to be our mother’s job. And our fathers’ jobs. There should be more people dedicated to the survival of our little family than the four of us.”
Ain’t it the truth. My nose tingles as emotion surges up my throat.
He lets out a sigh and sits back in the chair once again. “She called me.”
“Mom?” She rarely calls anyone.
“Yeah.”
“Wow. I can’t remember the last time I talked to her. It was a holiday, I think, but not a big one. Labor Day or something.” I shake my head, figuring it doesn’t matter. “What did she want?”
“To tell me she and Todd have been married for a year and it’s going to last. And…” He takes a very deep breath. “She’s pregnant.”
“What?” My voice is a desolate whisper. While she is mathematically able to be pregnant, she’s nowhere near emotionally capable of dealing with a baby.
“My first question was who is raising it,” Manuel says.
“Did you ask?”
“Yep. She said she was, then made excuses about how and why she moved to Vegas. She swore she loved me, loved all of us, and promised her having this baby won’t take away from the love she has for her other children.” Arms dangling at his sides, he sits back in the kitchen chair and regards me dubiously.
It’s the same chair Benji repaired after he came over for fajitas not so long ago. He drilled a screw into the leg and voila, the frame didn’t wobble anymore.
“Can you believe that shit?” Manuel says, bringing my attention back to the news I didn’t want to hear. “I want to understand her, but in so many ways she’s a stranger.”
“I know, honey.” Guilt pierces my heart. I tried to make up for her absence. I tried to involve my brothers’ dads and their extended family members as much as possible. Other than a random visit from an aunt here or a cousin there, everyone seemed content to leave us on our own. “I tried to make your lives as normal as possible.”
“Our childhoods were not normal.”
I wring my hands. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be sorry.” He shakes his head. The smile he gives me is amused. “This is what I’m talking about. You need to stop worrying about what you could have done better, or what you’re doing now.” There is a pause before he says, “You’re seeing Benji.”
I give him a pained smile. “I am.”
“And he’s making you happy.”
“He is.”
“For the first time in your life you’re doing what you want regardless of what anyone thinks. Enjoy it.”
My shoulders sag further. Not from relief this time, but from more guilt. Manuel believes Benji and I are in love. My brother knows me, and he knows I vowed over and over again to never be like our mother. I will get married once. Monogamy, I’ve said on numerous occasions, many of them while I was vocal about how Mom had let us down, is my middle name.
“Benji is a good guy,” Manuel continues. “And he has money, which isn’t the end-all, be-all, but it’s better than you dating a broke dude.”
I laugh.
“I hope it works out. Seriously. Stop hiding or trying to act like you’re not happy.” He slaps my knee. “Lighten up. Life is good.”
My smile is brittle. I can’t tell him the truth. That my relationship with Benji is as temporary as one of my mother’s many husbands. I suppose it’s possible the odds are in her favor this time. Maybe this Todd guy is cool and excited about having a baby, in spite of having it with a woman who abandoned four of her children already. I somehow doubt it.
“I’m going to mow the lawn while I’m here.” My brother stands. “And do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I know.” He chucks his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. “But you have a boyfriend now, so you don’t have time to do as much around here.”
“I was planning on hanging out with you, not putting you to work.” Plus he’s not my boyfriend, I mentally tack on.
“You also said you had ‘a million’ errands to run and had no idea when you’d run them. How about now? I’m giving you the night off. I owe you a few.”
I’m moved by the offer and so proud I could burst. All my efforts to help my brothers become good humans are paying off. They’re not perfect, but they’re trying. What more could I ask for? Rather than be mushy and possibly discourage any further heart-to-hearts with the eldest of my younger brothers, I slip into parent mode. “If you have a second beer, no driving.”
“Yes, Momma Cris.” He bends and puts a smacking kiss on my forehead. “Where’s your list of shit that needs fixing? Wasn’t there a leak in the roof?”
“You’re not climbing on top of this roof without supervision,” I tell him curtly.
“I am a grown man.”
His words hit me in the solar plexus. I vividly remember him as a little boy. I’ll always see him as a boy. Which is probably why I snap, “Yeah, and your bones are as breakable as any other grown man’s. The answer is no.”
He finds the list on the fridge as I carry our plates to the sink. “Well, am I allowed to pull a box out of the attic for you?” He holds up the paper. “And change the batteries in the smoke detectors?”
“Both of those require a ladder.” I gnaw on my bottom lip, aware I’m being ridiculous.
“Worst-case scenario, I sprain something. Besides, weren’t you going to be the one up on the ladder? How’s that safe?”
I hate when he makes a good point.
“Promise me you won’t climb on top of the roof,” I say as he folds the list and tucks it into his pocket.
He makes a scout’s honor sign while rolling his eyes.
I shouldn’t smile, but I can’t help myself. My brother is an adult. And he’s taking care of me for a change. He’s grown into such a good person, I’m tempted to get misty-eyed over it, but I resist.
As I gather my purse and keys, I can’t help thanking him. He shrugs off my gratitude, but I can feel how much he appreciates it when he hugs me goodbye.
Benji
At a somewhat spontaneous Owen family gathering, on the balcony at the back of our parents’ house, I admire the trees and the lush green grass in the backyard. Mom’s roses have started blooming. Soon the entire garden will be filled with their sweet, unique fragrance.
“Thinking of a special someone you’d like to make a bouquet for?” Vivian lowers onto a cushioned chair next to mine. “Your dad and Nate sent me to inform you they’re smoking a cigar in celebration of Nate’s latest project.”
“I thought you were Nate’s latest project.” I slide her a smile.
“You have that backwards, buddy.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I grew up with him.” I’d ask her if she gave Archer this much crap about the mysterious woman he met at the fundraiser, but I was witness at the dinner table tonight where she did just that.
So, tell us more about the feisty brunette who wants you to make her famous.
Archer, predictably, was not rattled by her prodding. He sipped his scotch and answered, “I know about the bet, and I’m not giving you anything.”
Our money’s held up until he lets down his guard.
William and Nate asked a few follow-up questions, but they were business related. Arch ducked and dodged like a practiced politician.
“Before you smoke with them, will you level with me?” The teasing quality is gone, and now I’m facing a st
erner version of Vivian. “About Cris, I mean. How is she?”
“I thought you two talked all the time,” I hedge, not sure what she’s asking.
“I’m trying to be respectful and mind my own business.”
“Present moment excluded?”
“I like you, Benji. Don’t make me change my mind.”
I laugh at her signature sass, but she doesn’t laugh with me. Her mouth is tight at the corners like she’s legitimately concerned.
I lean forward in the chair and prop my elbows on my knees, considering her question. “How is Cris? She’s…Cris.”
“So she’s adorable, accommodating, reliable.”
“And a lot of other adjectives I won’t share aloud.” Like hot. Sexy. Sensual. Insatiable. Surprising.
“And how are you with everything?”
I sit up and force a shrug so big my shoulders almost touch my earlobes. I drop my arms and say, “Fine. Great. What would I have to complain about?”
Honestly, what could I complain about? I’m getting laid on the regular by a woman who is so sexy I can’t think of anything else. Whether she’s across the hall working, or having dinner with her brother, she’s rarely not on my mind. I almost invited her tonight, but Manuel beat me to the ask. I hope he’s not there to break difficult news, like his girlfriend is pregnant or he wants to move back home. Cris is just now learning who she is without taking care of her brothers full-time.
“It’s not that you should have something to complain about,” Vivian tells me, her eyes turned up to the starry night sky. “I was curious if you had any sort of epiphany about you and Cris.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s saying.
“You. And Cris. Together.” Her eyebrows climb her forehead.
“How would you have felt if I sat you down and asked you to describe your feelings for Nate when you two were first together?”
She rears back and frowns. “That’s different. I didn’t know you back then. You wouldn’t have sat me down and talked to me about anything. You were too busy trying to make me feel at home, which is its own form of meddling, by the way.” She pats my hand to soften the blow.
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