her up, he left and she never saw him again. Sometimes I wonder if he was the one who drove my mom to marry and marry and marry again, as if searching for that kind of elusive first love.
Initially, when I was an intern at Owen Construction and working directly under Benji’s dad, William, I tried to manage both school and work. Something had to give. And since my quest was to raise three strong men to be good fathers and decent humans, I dropped out of school and kept what became a well-paying job.
I don’t think William or Lainey or the other Owens knew how much child-rearing I was doing back then. I didn’t share a lot of details. I worried if they found out how distracted I was at home, they’d never hire me on. I was desperate to stay at Owen Construction. I couldn’t think of any echelons higher than working for the Owen family. They’re well-known, their reputations and good works preceding them.
I didn’t expect sympathy back then—didn’t want it either. I was grateful to have a job (my internship quickly turned into a paid position), and when Benji hired me I was thrilled to have a pay raise and move to a more casual work environment—Benji’s awesome house.
Which is probably why lounging at his breakfast bar and chatting over enchiladas feels like a natural part of my day.
“Well, it’s very good,” I comment about the margarita.
“I’m sorry, Cris.” Benji, suddenly sincere, places his hand on my knee. It isn’t a sexual touch or an inappropriate one. It should be bland at worst, friendly at best. So why do I feel electricity shoot from his fingertips, up my thighs, and straight to my—
I fake a cough, moving my leg out from under his hand. He hops up to pour me a glass of water. I wave him off and take a gulp of my margarita instead. “I’m fine. Honest. And why are you sorry?”
He takes his seat and regards me like I’m daft, or suffering from short-term memory loss. “Because you were stood up.”
“Oh, that.” I momentarily forgot why I was here. I’d rather be here than out with that A-hole anyway.
“His loss.”
I offer my best friend a warm smile. He’s sweet.
“Give me your phone.” He holds out a palm.
“No.” I’m already suspicious of his motives. “Why?”
“I’ll set up your next date. I can’t bear to watch you go through this again. Maybe I can offer some insight. I am a guy, you know.”
“You are a guy,” I agree, mentally adding a few adjectives. Hot. Gorgeous. Funny. Intelligent. Good with his hands… I mean because he woodworks as a hobby, not that he—never mind.
“Show me the candidates.” He claps once. “Let’s do this.”
“Hard pass, boss. I’m not letting you choose.” I’m embarrassed about not being able to make it through a dinner. Tonight I didn’t even make it to a dinner. The last thing I need is Benji going through the candidates on the app and pointing out how small their hands are.
His turn to give me a bland blink. “Cris, it’s eight thirty at night. I am not your boss right now.”
“Don’t play the best-friend card. I wouldn’t let any of my friends choose my date.” I fold my arms over my chest in challenge.
“Is your phone in your purse?” He’s already off the stool and rounding the couch where my purse is sitting. Unattended. Rather than dig through my personal items, he plunks the bag onto my lap. “Do you need a shot of tequila to bolster your courage?”
“If I have a shot of tequila, I’ll have to sleep on your couch.” I swear I see a flash of heat…or something…in his eyes. It banks instantly when he smiles, making me wonder if I imagined it.
“No tequila. Got it.” He holds out his hand. “Phone.”
I fish my phone from my purse. I do not hand it to him. “Here’s the deal. You see only the screens I want you to see. And you can have a vote, but not the final say.”
“Deal.” He holds up a finger. “But you have to set the date for this weekend, and you have to insist on picking the restaurant. Also, if there’s a picture of his hands I want to see it.”
I burst out laughing. I knew it.
Half an hour and more laughter later, both plates of enchiladas have been annihilated and we’ve combed through the database on the app. We’ve narrowed my options down to two