What the hell is happening to me?
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Come today. I know you said you’d think about it, but I expected it to take a while.”
“I thought about it quickly.”
“Bull.”
He stopped walking. She stopped beside him, turning to face him with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and challenge.
“You want to know why I came?” he asked harshly. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because you asked me, and apparently that’s all it takes now. Because you look at me like I’m—” He cut himself off, jaw tight.
“Like you’re what?”
“Something other than what I am.”
She frowned up at him. “What do you think you are?”
“A grumpy bastard who has spent six years hiding in a small town and shutting everyone out.” The words came out rough, scraped from somewhere deep inside. “A coward. Someone who doesn’t deserve?—”
“Stop.”
She took a step closer, putting her hands on his arms, and the touch burned through his sleeves like a brand, sending sparks dancing up his spine.
“You’re not any of those things.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” she said firmly. “I know you shovel my driveway before I wake up. I know you cook for your staff and don’t let anyone disrespect them. I know you carried me home because you were protecting me. I know—” She paused, something flickering in her eyes. “I know you let a five-year-old hug you because she thought you looked sad.”
His throat tightened. “Sara?—”
“I’m not stupid, Ben. I see you. The real you, not whatever character you think you’re playing. And I like what I see.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Too late.”
“I’m not—” He struggled to find the words. “I can’t give you what you want.”
“What do you think I want?”
“Someone uncomplicated. Someone who can take you on normal dates and meet your friends and not spend half his time fighting the urge to—” He stopped.
“To what?”
To claim you. Mark you. Keep you.
The words sat on his tongue, unspoken. Six years of discipline. Six years of control. And here she was, standing in the grey February light, smelling like sugar and looking at him like he was worth something, and he could feel every carefully constructed wall crumbling into dust.
“You brought me cake today,” he said instead, unable to hide the accusation in his voice. “Even after what I told you yesterday.”
“You said it was significant. An invitation.”
“An invitation you didn’t mean to extend.”
