Anything that isn’t his mouth on mine.
It can’t happen again.
I have to pull myself together.
I’ll blame it on the Florida heat. It’s made me feral or something.
I was understandably upset about my job. Bennett—and his large, beautiful muscles—was there. He was so close to me, there was somuch heat between us.
I couldn’t resist.
But it was a one-time slip up. An oopsie that won’t happen again.
Besides, he went ice-cold on me afterwards. Probably wouldn’t have checked in if I hadn’t texted him. And he’s been silent for the past three days.
Which makes my chest ache a little, if I’m being honest. I kinda got used to the guy being around, tormenting me with his stupid GIFs, the obnoxiously loud rock music and sarcastic jabs.
I miss him.
No.
I shut down this line of thinking and get back to my spreadsheet. I need to stay focused on work. My real work, not the ridiculous babysitting gig my father foisted on me.
I’ll stick around for the next week or two. Make sure Bennett’s behaving himself. Then I’ll jet back to Manhattan and forget all about this.
About him.
A sharp pang radiates through me and I hate myself for it.
Don’t get attached. Nothing good comes from it.
My phone buzzes on the desk and I scoop it up.
Daddy: Local media wants a two-minute spot with Bennett before the game tonight
Daddy: I need you on that. Harbor’s not the right person for the job, given her involvement
Fuck my life.
So much for keeping my distance.
Tori: Fine. Has PR prepped him at all?
Daddy: Yes. But be there for optics. Coach Keller and I will also join
Wonderful.
I’m going to have an audience, too.
Tori: Got it
I toss the phone down on the desk, nerves already humming. So much for keeping my distance. All I need to do is limit liability, make sure he doesn’t go off-script and say anything to hurt the team—or himself.
Taking a deep breath, I text Bennett.
Tori: You have a 2-min media spot before game tonight. We need to prep
I hit send and wait, my heart hammering.
