“Besides the fact that you drove it into a snowbank at approximately forty miles per hour?” He drops into the chair across from my desk without waiting for an invitation, long legs sprawling out in front of him. “Cracked radiator hose—that’s what happens when you hit a wall of ice and snow. Alsobent your front bumper, but I hammered that back into shape. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“It’s got character now.” He sets the bakery bag on the edge of my desk. “Good news is, all the work I did a few weeks ago held up fine. Timing belt, brakes, everything. Your car’s a trooper.” He tosses the keys onto my desk. “Oh, and I put your stuff in the glovebox. Found some things on the passenger seat.”
My suppressants. He found my suppressants.
I feel my face heat. “Thanks.”
If he notices my reaction, he doesn’t comment on it. Classic Ben—seeing everything, saying nothing unless it’s wrapped in a joke.
And that’s the thing that’s throwing me. He’s being so...normal. Like we didn’t just spend four days tangled together in ways I’m still trying to process. Like he didn’t see me completely unraveled, begging, desperate. Like this is just any other Friday morning and he’s just the town mechanic dropping off a car.
Is this how it’s going to be? Are we just going to pretend nothing happened?
Part of me is relieved. Part of me wants to shake him.
“What do I owe you?” I ask, steering us back to safe territory. “For the car.”
He waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Ben, I’m not letting you fix my car for free twice.”
“Fine. Buy me a coffee sometime.” He grins. “Or, you know, let me take you to dinner. Whatever works.”
Heat creeps up my neck. I ignore it. “What’s in the bag?”
“Blueberry muffin from Maeve’s. You look like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t caffeine.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it. He’s not wrong.
“How did you know I was in my office?”
“Small town.” He shrugs. “Also, your car’s been sitting in my lot since I towed it back Wednesday, and you never came to pick it up. Figured you were either avoiding me or buried in work. Since I spotted the lights on in here at six this morning when I was opening the shop, I’m guessing work.”
“You noticed my lights were on at six AM?”
“My shop’s round the corner.” He says it casually, but there’s something in his eyes that makes me think it wasn’t casual at all. “Eat the muffin, Tessa.”
I pull the bag toward me and take out the muffin. It’s still warm. Maeve must have just pulled it from the oven.
“Thank you,” I say, quieter this time.
“You’re welcome.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and his eyes sweep over my desk. The stacks of paper. The three empty coffee cups. The chaos that’s been my life since I walked out of that cabin two days ago. “You really do look like hell.”
“Charming as always.”
“I try.” He tilts his head, studying me in a way that makes me want to squirm. “When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?”
I take a bite of muffin instead of answering. It’s delicious. Damn Maeve and her perfect baking.
“That’s what I thought.” Ben nods slowly, like I’ve confirmed something. “Okay. What do you need?”
“What?”
“Your list.” He gestures at the chaos on my desk. “You’ve got approximately forty-seven things going wrong right now. I can see it on your face. Also—” He picks up a sticky note, squints at it. “Your handwriting gets worse when you’re stressed. This either says ‘call Linda’ or ‘cult llama.’ I’m hoping it’s the first one.”
I snatch the note back. “It says ‘call Linda.’“
