“I’ll let you know,” Sandro finally said.
Bennett nodded and propped his door open.
“What was the model like?”
Freezing with one foot on the pavement, Bennett let out a slow breath, his insides beginning to hop with an odd blend of arousal and hope. An inch at a time, he rotated in his seat to face Sandro. “Darren.”
The look Sandro sent him was very I don’t give a fuck what his name is, B.
Swallowing a laugh, Bennett said, “Sleek and perfect. But not flawless. That’s all airbrushing.”
Sandro swallowed, his throat clicking. He leaned forward, forearms draped over the steering wheel, his clenched fingers white with strain. “And what was it about him that had you almost marrying him after only four days?”
Bennett pulled his leg back in and closed the door. It was cold, for one thing, and for another, there was something about the privacy of the car that made it feel like they were the only two people in the world. Secrets were safe here.
“He made me forget, for a little while at least, that I’ve compared every relationship to what you and I had.”
Sandro turned his face away, looking out the driver’s side window. There was a spot at the base of his neck between his jacket collar and his hairline that Bennett ached to kiss.
“So why didn’t you marry him?” Sandro asked, still looking away. His voice sounded like a wave over a rocky seashore.
“Because I realized he wasn’t what I wanted.”
Sandro turned to him, a riot of emotion in his eyes. Fear, sadness, desperation—all there for Bennett to see. “What did you want?”
“In that moment?” Bennett thought back, recalling waking up next to Darren in a hotel room on the Strip the morning they’d been scheduled to get married and trying to imagine a future with him. “Someone I could picture myself hosting backyard barbecues with or watching the sunset with after a long day or being excited to see after a business trip.”
“And he wasn’t that?”
“No. He definitely wasn’t.”
Whatever went through Sandro’s mind at that, Bennett couldn’t say. Sandro kept his thoughts off his face, which left Bennett somewhere in limbo, wishing that Sandro trusted him enough to let him in.
When a long minute passed without anything from Sandro, Bennett let out a quiet sigh and tapped his box of leftover cheese and crackers on his thigh. “I’ll be at the arena tomorrow. For the game.”
“I figured.”
“Okay.” Bennett opened his door and stepped out. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Rounding the hood, Bennett headed toward his house, both surprised and not when a car door slammed closed behind him, followed by the sound of footsteps. His heartbeat thumping to the tune of Sandro’s steps, Bennett unlocked his door and nudged it open before turning.
Sandro was closer than he’d expected, right there in Bennett’s space, cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild, and smelling like the soap he’d used after practice. With a tiny smile that hinted at what was to come, Sandro said, “I’m not drunk this time.”
Bennett pushed the door open wider.
chapter ten
Sandro had no idea what he was doing.
What he did know was this:
First, he wanted Bennett.
Second, whatever reasons he had for not acting on that want didn’t matter, not in this precise moment in time.
And third, he was tired of resisting. He just wanted to take without overthinking it or worrying about what would come later.
