“How long do you have to stay here?” I ask Bennett as he pushes my brand-new stove into place. The delivery guys dropped it off a few minutes after Ridge and everyone else left, roughly an hour ago. Thankfully, Ridge took the money with him so I was spared more questions.
Bennett uses his hip to push the stove the final inch, which should be impossible for an industrial stove but he acts as if it’s simple. “What? Don’t you enjoy having me around to help?”
Do I? That’s the problem. I like having Bennett around here way more than I should. His strong biceps, the way he bites the corner of his lips together when in thought, the way he stood by me protectively during the whole money thing. If I was a cartoon heroine, this is the point when I start swooning. Which means it’s also the time he needs to get out.
It’s hot enough in my kitchen. I don’t need to add fantasies of Bennett to the oven.
“Of course I like having you around,” I lie. Or don’t lie… I’m still not quite sure how I actually feel. “I just don’t want to keep you from big bad security guy stuff.”
Bennett laughs. “This is big bad security guy stuff.”
“Aren’t there like bombs to diffuse or damsels in distress to save?”
Bennett opens the large freezer door, leaving three fingerprints on my perfectly polished stainless steel, and peeks his head in. There are definitely no robbers in the freezer, but getting to stare at Bennett’s ass makes me okay with the fact he’s raising the temperature of my frozen goods above the suggested level.
He doesn’t answer until the freezer door is closed and he’s left another smudge mark on the front. “Anessa, you are my damsel in distress.”
Oh, I’m distressed all right, but not for the reasons he thinks. How can I clean off the prints without him realizing what I’m doing?
“Do you have any more of those cookies?”
“Of course, I have the best cookies.” Oh. My. God. That is not what I meant. “I mean baked goods are my specialty. There are a lot of ways I can get you excited.”
Bennett doesn’t move. He’s stopped with his hand on the freezer door as he stares, waiting for me to catch up.
I eventually do.
When what I’ve said hits me, my mouth drops open. “I mean…wow…um.” I am making this so much worse. “What kind are you looking for?”
Way to throw it together there at the end, Nessa.
Bennett steps away from the freezer and I grab the edge of my table—the metal cool against my sweaty palms—so I don’t run over there and clean the door as soon as he’s not looking. I must not let him know I’m crazy yet.
“Those ones with the little red pieces and the white chocolate in them?” he asks.
“Of course, the cranberry sugar cookies. They’re one of my favorites too. The recipe comes from my great-grandmother although I’ve made a few improvements.” Shut up. Shut up. Bennett does not care about your stupid cookie recipe, Anessa.
I busy myself by pulling out a preloaded rack of cookies and sliding them into the new oven. Screw waiting for it to warm. I need the activity to keep my hands busy. If not, I’ll be wiping down the freezer doors or running my hands down his arms. Who knew I’m one of those girls who find arms sexy?
Although, I have always had a thing for Vin Diesel and the way he fills out a T-shirt. Maybe this makes a little more sense after all.
“If you don’t already have some made, don’t worry about it,” Bennett says, as he invades my space right next to the oven.
I slam the oven door shut, lost in my thoughts of Vin Diesel and Bennett’s arms. If I was one of those girls with sex appeal, I’d have a witty comment to make right now. But I have so few moves I can’t even dance the Macarena.
At some point in a past life I’ve screwed up and God is now taking it out on me by making me stupid while the cute guy is here. He couldn’t be fifty pounds overweight and balding.
“Did you hear me?” he asks. “You shouldn’t make new ones.”
Didn’t I answer the question? Focus, Nessa! “It’s fine. Time to test out the new oven anyway. I’d love for you to be my maiden voyage.”
Did I just make a virgin joke? Could this get any worse?
“You haven’t plugged it in yet.”
“Huh?”
“The stove. Do you want me to plug it in?” He holds up a thick black cord, definitely not plugged in.
