“Didn’t need to. Answer’s still no.”
Ben groans, dropping his head back in obvious frustration. The movement exposes the line of his throat, and I definitely don’t stare at it. I am a professional. I am here on business. I do not notice the way his pulse is beating just above his collar.
“You’re impossible,” he says to the ceiling.
“I prefer persistent.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s really not.” I move to the other side of the workbench, putting some distance between us. My skin is prickling, my pulse doing something annoying, and I don’t need to be closer to him right now. “Impossible implies there’s no way through. Persistent just means I haven’t found it yet.”
He lifts his head to look at me. “And you always find a way through?”
“Always.”
“What happens when you don’t?”
“That’s never happened.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
He goes quiet. He’s looking at me differently now—like he’s seeing me for the first time, or maybe like he’s been seeing me all along and doesn’t know what to do about it. “You’re really something, Tessa Lang.”
I don’t know what to do with that. It’s not quite a compliment, not quite an insult. It’s just... honest. And honesty from Ben feels dangerous.
“Is that a yes to the auction?” Deflecting. I’m definitely deflecting.
“It’s an observation.” He turns back to his tools. “Answer’s still no.”
We’re closer now. I don’t remember moving, but somehow there’s only a few feet between us. The space heater in the corner is pumping out warmth, but that’s not why my cheeks feel flushed. His scent is curling around me, through me, making it hard to think about anything except how good he smells and how annoying that is.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I say.
“And you’re being stubborn.”
“I’m beingpersistent. There’s a difference.” I cross my arms. “Stubborn is refusing to participate in a charity event for no good reason. Persistent is me trying to save the community center despite people being unreasonable.”
Ben laughs. Actually laughs, low and warm, and—okay, that’s annoying. That sound should not do things to my insides. “You really don’t give up, do you?”
“Never.”
“That’s either admirable or terrifying.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
He’s looking at me differently now. Less guarded, more... something. His eyes drop to my mouth for a split second before snapping back up, and I feel it like a touch.
“You cold?” he asks.
“What?”
“You’re shivering.”
I’m not shivering from cold. I’m shivering because his scent is everywhere and my body doesn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t say that, so I just shrug. “It’s January. Your garage isn’t exactly tropical.”
“Brilliant observation.” He grabs a jacket from a hook near the space heater—his jacket, the one I’ve seen him wear a hundred times, worn soft at the cuffs—and holds it out. “Here.”
