I’m not sure how I feel about that. Mostly given this sham of an engagement thing we have going is practically already done and I’ll never see him again. We’re merely making small talk to kill the time until Milton clears the scene and I can make a break for it. As much as I can’t help letting my mind get caught up in how handsome this sweet talker is, there’s no way I’m letting myself get tangled in his clever web. I’ve barely managed to walk away with two nickels after the last men in my life. And they were clueless. I fear I’d be no match for someone with ten years on me.
He must sense my mind reeling, tossing out a new question to get our conversation back somewhere with less of an inference to the two of us. “How about your favorite candy?”
I giggle at the random question. This lighthearted equivalent of twenty questions is refreshing. Not that I’ll ever see this handsome stranger again once this day is done. Tapping my lower lip with the pad of my index finger, I try to remember the last piece of candy I ate. “I used to like Ring Pops.”
A wide smile engulfs his handsome face, causing a dimple I hadn’t realized he possessed to pop from his left cheek. “That one caught me off guard,” he admits. “Was expecting something like chocolate-covered cherries or Red Vines or something.” I scrunch up my nose, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“You?”
“I like kisses.”
My eyes instinctively fall to his full lips. Another rush of heat unfurls from my chest to my neck at his response. Reaching for the remainder of my champagne, I down the rest, attempting to put out the fire.
“But Sour Patch candy is pretty good too.” He grins, rubbing thedark scruff along his jawline. “They’re a bit like you, Grace Kelly. A quirky, tantalizing mix of sweet and sassy.”
“Ha. No one’s ever compared me to a Sour Patch before.” Rotating to face him, I drop my hands on my hips in an overly theatrical fashion. “Hey. Should I be offended?” I snicker.“You know, my quirks and imperfections are some of my best qualities. They’re part of my charm.” My lids flutter, my chin raised as I embrace my unique personality. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea. But that’s just fine by me.
His voice is so low and gravely I almost miss his words, too preoccupied by the tremble they’ve invoked in my body. “You seem pretty damn perfect to me, Grace.”
13
GRACE
My eyes connectwith his bright blues for the briefest of moments before he breaks the spell, finishing the remaining champagne in his tumbler as he peers out the window.
Right. I’m certain it’s the alcohol talking. I mean, does he not remember the way we met?I can’t help but picture myself in that ridiculous tank top covered in paw prints and nearly drop my face into my hands.
Glancing at the clock, I bite the inside of my cheek to the point of tasting copper. This day has seemed like a week. First the truck breaks down, and I have to get the neighbor to take Mom to her appointment. No telling how much it’s going to cost me to get that hunk of junk repaired. Then I manage to get myself tied to another con artist. Sure, he seems sweet. And panty-melting hot. But I haven’t recovered from the last construction worker who convinced me he was on his way to making it big and just needed my help to get there. The reality of my situation is a stark reminder to stay focused. I’ve got to get home. If nothing else, so I won’t risk being late to work in the morning. “Do you mind checking again to see if Milton’s still there?” I grimace. “I’ve got an early day at work tomorrow.”
A mask of guilt slips over Ben’s face before he springs from his chair. “Oh, of course, Grace. I’ll be right back.”
Waiting for him to return, I nearly put a hole in the threadbare rug as I pace back and forth, hoping upon hope that a minor miracle has occurred, and Milton has left for the evening so I can make a break for it. Hopefully, Ben has enough cash on him to spring for an Uber. It’s the least he could do after putting me in this position.
The door opens, and I know by his downtrodden expression I’m stuck. “Grace, I’m so sorry. I have no idea why he’s still sitting there. He’s literally flipping through that stack of guest books like its Twilight or something.”
“Twilight?” My mouth drops open to form an O. “You’ve read those books?”
“Ha. No. But my mom tore through that series when I still lived at home.” He chuckles. “Anyway. He’s apparently engrossed in whatever he’s doing. Maybe he’s lonely.” He shrugs. His wide eyes are nothing if not apologetic. He grips the back of his neck and squeezes. “I feel terrible about this.”
My shoulders slump, feeling more than a little defeated by life. What am I going to do now? Moving toward the door, I decide we should simply explain there’s been an emergency, and I need to get home to my mother when he interrupts.
“Look. It’s a big bed.” Ben waves his arm toward the four-poster queen canopy with a flourish, Vanna White style. “I’ve got a shirt you can wear. I promise to be on my best behavior.” He gestures by extending three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Something tells me you were never in the Boy Scouts.” I lift a brow. “Didn’t you say you grew up in the UK?”
“Ah. You’re right, you little clever clogs. I wasn’t in the Boy Scouts ofAmerica. But they actually do have Scouts in the UK.”
My eyes instinctively narrow before I can stop myself.
Ben’s forehead creases as he continues cautiously, rubbing a large hand back and forth across his sternum. “Never saidIwas part of that organization. But they do have them there,” he admits.
“Good grief.” I shake my head. “At least you’re being honest.”
“I’m nothing if I’m not?—”
“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence, Mr. Meet my fiancée, Grace.” I jab my finger at him accusingly and roll my eyes.
Ben lets out a nervous chuckle, reaching back behind him to massage his neck. The act causes his biceps to strain within the confines of his white dress shirt, the hem elevating enough to reveal toned abs and a thin trail of dark hair that disappears into his suit pants. My mouth instantly waters, and I swiftly look away, hoping he hasn’t caught me ogling him.
