“You really don’t have to explain?—”
“Tessa.” He stops walking, turns to face me. We’re standing in front of The Barn Bar, I realize. The windows are dark—Milo must be at home. “I’ve been dodging this conversation for weeks. Making jokes, blasting my radio, finding any excuse to avoid it. And then at the cabin, I finally had a chance to tell you, and you were out the door with Nate before I could get the words out.”
“I panicked.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you.” He squeezes my hand. “But I need you to understand why I said no. Why Icouldn’tsay yes.”
I wait.
“The auction is about letting people bid on a date with you. Right? That’s the whole point. Someone pays money, they get to spend Valentine’s Day with one of Honeyridge’s most eligible bachelors.” He says the last part with air quotes, self-deprecating.
“That’s the idea.”
“And I can’t do that.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s no humor in them now. Just honesty. “I can’t stand up on that stage and let other women bid on me, Tessa. Because the only woman I want to spend Valentine’s Day with already has me. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
My breath catches.
“I’ve been saying no for weeks because I didn’t know how to tell you that,” he continues. “Every time you asked, I panicked and made some stupid joke or turned up the radio or foundsome excuse to avoid the conversation. Because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to talk about feelings without making everything into a bit.”
“Ben—”
“I’m not done.” He takes a breath. “At the cabin, when you asked again, I was going to finally tell you. I was going to say that I can’t do the auction because the thought of going on a date with anyone else makes me want to throw up. But then Nate showed up, and you bolted, and I just... I needed you to know. That’s why I said no. Not because I don’t care about the community center roof or the fundraiser or any of that. Because I care aboutyou.”
The words hang between us.
“Why didn’t you come after me?” I ask quietly. “When I left.”
“Because you needed space.” He says it simply, like it’s obvious. “You were panicking. I could see it in your face, smell it in your scent. And chasing you down the driveway yelling about my feelings wasn’t going to help anything. You needed time to process. So I gave you time.”
“And you just... let me go?”
“I let you go.” He smiles, but it’s softer than his usual grin. More vulnerable. “And then I went back to my shop and fixed your car. Because that’s what I do, Tessa. I fix things. I help. It’s the only way I know how to show people I care about them.”
Something warm spreads through my chest. This man. This ridiculous, joke-cracking, grease-stained man who shows up at my office with muffins and car keys and offers to solve all my problems without asking for anything in return.
“You fixed my car,” I say slowly.
“Twice now, if we’re counting.”
“You gave me your truck when mine broke down. For almost a week.”
“Customer service.”
“You wrapped your jacket around me when I was cold. You gave me your flannel too.”
“You were shivering. There would have been paperwork if you froze to death in my garage.”
“Ben.” I step closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him. “You walked through a blizzard to rescue me.”
He looks down at me, and the humor is gone now. Just honesty in those brown eyes. “Yeah. I did.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
I do. I think I’ve known for a while, even when I was pretending not to.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “I don’t know how to do this. The pack thing. The letting-people-in thing. I’ve spent so long being in control of everything, and this is...” I gesture vaguely with my free hand. “This is the opposite of control.”
