“That’s because you’ve apparently got a beefy flannel-wearing neighbor who could bench-press a small car. Of course, you feel safe.”
I roll my eyes so hard my skull creaks. “He is not— okay, he is beefy, but that’s not the point.”
Banks gasps. “Oh my GOD, Lucky Vale thinks a man is attractive. Alert the press.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Babe, you don’t say. You suffer silently and stare at him like you want to climb him like a tree.”
My face bursts into flame. “Banks!”
“Oh please. I can only imagine what he looks like. A lumberjack who’s one emotional breakthrough away from ruining your life in the best possible way.”
I bury my face in my hand. “We had dinner with his family last night.”
A beat. “You what?”
“His parents and sister showed up. British.VeryBritish. Like Downton Abbey but with passive-aggressive comments and cashmere.”
Banks wheezes. “Oh my God, you met the in-laws.”
“Stop,” I groan.
“No, really. Did his mum give you the ‘welcome to the family’ speech? Did the sister ask when the wedding is? Did someone bring scones?”
“There were scones,” I mutter.
He loses it — full, chaotic cackling. “LUCKY. VALE. You were playing house.”
“It wasn’t— we just— they thought I was his girlfriend or something.”
“Oh, honey, it’s about time you got inside that man’s pants.”
I fling an arm over my eyes. “BANKS.”
“What? If he's built like a Greek statue and stares at you like you’re the only thing keeping his soul tethered to his body, then what’s stopping you?”
My stomach swoops. “He does not.”
“I bet he absolutely does. I’d bet a month’s rent that man makes tea aggressively just to avoid thinking about you naked.”
“Please stop talking.”
“Nope. Not until you admit you want him.”
My throat tightens. Not guilty-tight. Truth-tight.
“I… I don’t know what I want,” I say softly. “But something happened last night. Or almost happened.”
Banks goes quiet. Really quiet.
“You nearly kissed him.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
Another beat.
“You okay?” he asks again, but this time it’s gentler. Bare.
