But not because I feel obligated. Because I am thankful. Those were really kind things you did and—
Ben waited for her to finish the rest of the text. When she didn’t, he typed out a reply.
And what?
Long moments passed.
And I just wanted to say thank you because that was kind, even though I know I made things weird. That’s my superpower, making things weird.
He smiled.
I thought your superpowers were Hoovering and taming beasts.
Only a couple of seconds before she replied.
You’ve discovered my evil secret. I, in fact, have three superpowers.
Ben chuckled.
I’m a lucky, lucky man.
He pressed send, and a full minute passed before she replied.
Will you tell me something?
Anything.
That was what he wanted to send. Instead he typed out something else.
Does it involve my superpowers?
She did that react thing with the message, a little “ha-ha” icon appearing by his text before the “…” went again.
I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.
His heart thudded.
He clenched his jaw, forced it to relax. For a moment, in the elevator, he’d thought the same. Thought it would be smarter to let her go. It was never a good sign for someone to talk about his money. He’d been convinced in a couple of sentences that she’d fooled him, that she was after something, after a meal ticket or maybe a funny story to sell the tabloids—Billionaire has Viscous Dog. Hunt CEO is Too Good to Ride with the Common Folk.
But then she’d started babbling, explaining about her friend’s mom and apologizing, and even then he’d still thought it was a line, a way of trying to get back on his good side, so she could get that meal ticket.
Until she’d headed for the exit.
Until she’d been shocked he had stopped her.
Until he remembered the look on her face when he’d pulled up outside the bar, when he’d offered to drive her to her car, when he’d passed her the sweatshirt.
As though she’d been lacking in receiving kindness.
And the urge to give it to her was instinctual.
He couldn’t let her go.
He’d seen her phone flashing inside her purse as he’d tucked her into her seat, had noticed it didn’t have a passcode (something he was going to talk to her about soon), and hadn’t been able to stop himself from programming in his number, from using it to call his cell so he had hers.
Then as he’d driven, listening to her yawn, her half-lidded stare out the windshield, he’d ignored his previous promise of picking up her car.
He’d programmed her street into his GPS without the number, not wanting to disturb her thoughts, to jar her out of her sleepy state, at least until he’d gotten as far as he was able. Then he’d touched her.
And she’d jumped.
He hated that jump, despised that reaction. He wanted her to be comfortable with him. But he wasn’t good with people, at least not outside of the business world. He didn’t do soft words, for one, sucked at explanations for his defensive behaviors, for another. So, he was struggling to come up with a way to put her at ease, to let her know that the thing in the elevator wasn’t a big deal after all when he’d pulled into the driveway.
Then had still wrestled with it as he’d walked her up to her house.
Had actually considered taking the coward’s way out and letting her go in that instant.
Until Fred.
Fucking cute ass dog, and well-behaved, and sweet, and nothing like Sweetheart and all her snarling. He’d actually listened. Then had relaxed into Ben’s scratching.
So he’d swooped back into Stef’s purse, knowing he was an asshole for invading her privacy like that a second time. But he’d convinced himself it was for a good cause, so he’d swiped the key fob.
He’d retrieved her car.
He wanted to hold on to Stef.
Ben?
Muttering a curse, he yanked himself out of his brain and typed.
That wasn’t a question.
A beat.
Oh.
His fingers worked on the screen.
For the record, that wasn’t either.
He could almost picture her nibbling at her bottom lip.
Can I take you to dinner? As a thanks?
That had him straightening in surprise. She wanted to take him to dinner. As a thanks? After the orgasm she’d given him?
His shock had him taking too long to reply because his cell vibrated again.
Never mind. That’s okay. Thanks again. Have a nice life.
Have a nice life.
The words ricocheted through his insides, startling him into motion, his fingers flying on the screen . . . but not to text Stef.
Instead, they pulled up Claire’s contact and hit