Chapter Six
Ben wasn’t sure why he was surprised that the retreat was nice—after all, this was, according to his research, the kind of place the rich and famous came to reconnect with their spouses. It still struck him as too nice, from the beautifully manicured gardens to the silk sheets on the bed.
Maybe he just wasn’t used to places like this.
Claire had said that their readership couldn’t afford something like it, so he should have expected to be a little out of his comfort zone. Cocky’s readers were usually a pay grade above the on-the-floor journalists.
“Holy shit,” Sam said from the bathroom. Ben looked up to see what he was reacting to, and saw him walking out with a wicker basket full of…
Oh.
Well.
That made a certain kind of sense, he supposed. Thiswasa couples’ retreat.
“There’s enough lube and condoms here to keep a porn set stocked for a week,” Sam said, which was a succinct way of putting it.
“I guess we’re supposed to be repairing our relationship,” Ben said, a blush creeping down his neck.
Sam looked up at him. “I’m starting to feel like you didn’t think this through.”
He nodded to the bed. The only bed in the room.
Ben had been so busy trying to solve all his problems that he reallyhadn’tthought it through. It was one thing to hang out with Sam for the weekend. It was a different thing entirely to pretend to be in a long-term relationship with him.
That hadn’t really hit him until they’d gotten here and been treated like a couple while they checked in. It wasn’t completely new, but it had been a long time since they’d done anything like this, and they’d never done it for more than a handful of minutes at a time.
“We’ve shared a bed before,” Ben said. There was no need to mention how uncomfortable it had made him back then.
Not because he didn’t like Sam, but because he did.
Because, unfortunately, he still did. A big part of him was still twenty-one and desperate to impress his new friend.
A bigger part of him was twenty-three and in love with his best friend, but with no way of knowing how to deal with that. Just a whole lot of feelings he couldn’t really pin down—or at least, wouldn’t pin down, because they were scary.
The rest of him was thirty-six and filled with regrets.
This retreat had the unique ability to make him feel all those ways at once, and they’d only been here ten minutes. If this was any indication, the rest of the weekend was going to be hell.
“True. And this is a huge bed. Are they expecting us to like… host an orgy, or something?”
Ben shrugged. “Whatever works, I guess. Rich people are weird.”
“You’re telling me.” Sam sat down on the bed, putting the basket he’d retrieved on the side table.
Ben would have preferred for it to go back to the bathroom—maybe under the sink, where he wouldn’t have to look at it—but he didn’t feel as though he could say that, exactly.
Sam would have never let him hear the end of it if he confessed to being uncomfortable around a basket of sex supplies.
Samdefinitelydidn’t need to know that Ben hadn’t gotten laid in years, and had more or less given up on the entire concept.
“So do you have a preferred side of the bed?” Sam asked.
Ben shrugged. He rarely woke up on the same side he went to sleep on, but Sam didn’t need to know that, either. He’d stay in place when there was someone else sharing. He hoped.
“I’ll take the one you’re not on,” he said, dumping his bag on it. Aside from his laptop and a few changes of clothes, Ben hadn’t been sure what else to bring, so he hadn’t brought anything.
Ben was realizing, belatedly, that he’d have to sleep in his underwear. Pajamas hadn’t seemed like a necessity, and he didn’t own any.
