Good start.
Cleaning up after himself.
But he’s still moving slower than usual. I’m not sure I should leave him alone like this.
“Here, drink some water.” I fill a glass with water from the fridge dispenser and shove it in his direction. “You’ll feel better tomorrow. Trust me.”
He scowls but takes the glass without further argument and chugs the water.
That settles it.
A compliant Bennett?
Not a good sign.
“Pick a movie.” I point at the TV and he frowns.
“You don’t have to babysit me. It’s probably past your bedtime.”
“It’s not.”
He shoves one of his enormous hands in his pocket, scowling. But he shuffles to the sofa and folds his lithe body down onto the cushion, grabbing the remote. Flipping to Netflix, he scrolls through options.
Click. Click. Click.
His knee bounces up and down with each tap. My heart pounds double-time in my chest.
What the hell am I doing?
I shouldn’t stay. It’s too much, I’m too close.
This is against all my rules.
But I can’t leave him like this.
The guy can’t even decide on a movie.
With a quiet sigh, I shut the kitchen light off and join him in the living room. I eye the sofa, the only place to sit in the entire place. He stops flicking through options and scoots over.
“Sit.”
Not a question. More like a demand.
Nerves humming, I perch on the edge of the cushion at the far end of the sofa. There’s a mile of space between us.
Safe.
“I don’t do horror.” I clasp my hands in my lap, acutely aware of his presence beside me. His clean, freshly showered scent floats in the air. Soap and cedar and man. My stomach flip-flops and I stare straight ahead at the TV screen.
“Fine. I don’t do rom-com.”
“Not a surprise.”
“How about action?” Bennett pauses on one of theMission Impossiblemovies and I nod.
“That works.”
He hits start and kicks back, propping his bare feet on the coffee table. I stay locked in place right where I am. The light from the screen flickers in the dark room and I’m relieved he turned the volume back up. Drowns out the hammering of my heart, my shallow breathing.
