Make Me Bad(62)

“Okay. Great.” I shrug. “That’d be fine. I guess.”

He smiles smugly and then turns to head for his SUV.

Thank God he left because I definitely need a few minutes to compose myself.

GIRLFRIEND.

GIRLFRIEND!

I step back into my apartment and my gaze leaps from one inanimate object to the next. None of them seem all that excited for me except for the snazzy gold lamp. Lamp is excited for me.

“Girlfriend,” I say to it in disbelief.

About an hour later, I’ve settled into my new role in Ben’s life very well. While he was gone, I reenacted some very lifelike scenarios in my head. What’s that? Oh yes, I am Ben’s girlfriend. Thanks for asking. Oh, sorry, I can’t come to your party tonight because my boyfriend, Ben, wants to have sex with me.

It’s probably good he can’t read my thoughts.

Now, I’m heating us up a Cup of Noodles and he’s drilling through my door, adding a deadbolt. He ran to the hardware store and then to his house to get some tools. He changed out of his suit. He’s Ben Rosenberg, trusty contractor, and his flannel shirt and jeans are making it difficult to get the noodles to my mouth without some major spillage.

I sit crisscross nearby, watching him work. “Did you happen to ask Mrs. Allen if this was okay before you started doing construction on her property?”

He aims a pointed brow in my direction and keeps right on working. “First of all, it’s a door—I’ll buy her a new one if she has a problem with it. Second of all, this is about your safety. She should be glad I’m doing this.”

I smile. “Plus, isn’t it better to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

He smirks. “Spoken like the true bad girl you’ve always wanted to be.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Oh god, can we please forget that whole thing ever happened? It was silly.”

He pauses and glances down at me, studying my features. “Was it? Seems like a lot of things have happened in your life in the last two months, things you might not have had the courage to take on if you hadn’t set that goal, silly or not.”

I stir my noodles. “True. I finally stood up to my dad and laid down the law. I told him I wanted him and Colten to give me room to grow. He didn’t even protest when I asked to move out—did I tell you that? I was really relieved. And now, I have these snazzy new digs, not to mention”—I tilt my Cup of Noodles in his direction—“you.”

He opens his mouth for a bite and I oblige, grinning like a fool.

“It’s like I’ve evolved into my final form: a big, bad butterfly.”

He chuckles and returns to his work. I watch him change the drill bit on his power tool and my heart thunders in my chest.

I have to keep talking to distract myself from the overwhelming urge I have to tackle him to the ground and force him to continue what we started earlier.

“So, does being your girlfriend come with any perks?”

He sends me a smoldering glare over his shoulder. “What do you mean? Outside of the bedroom?”

Oh Jesus, I am going to die.

I clear my throat and look anywhere but at him. “No, I mean, like…you’re Ben Rosenberg—surely dating you comes with free admission to amusement parks, float privileges in the Fourth of July parade, etc.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I just want to know if I get some kind of airline miles or rewards points when I dine out at the restaurants your family owns.”

“So it’s true, you’re only dating me for the power and privilege it provides?”

I shrug and add a little frown for emphasis. “’Fraid so.”

Then, I hold up another bite of noodles and he accepts eagerly, fully aware that I’m kidding.

A few minutes later, he’s all done installing the deadbolt. He stands and brushes his jeans off then leans down to help me up too.

“How did you learn how to do this stuff?”

“My dad and I would do little things around the house when I was growing up. The old Victorian homes around here need a lot of upkeep.”

I test out the lock and it slides perfectly into place. We’re both locked in here. My evil plan has worked. I twist around and aim a pretty smile his way. If I knew how to bat my lashes without looking like an idiot, I would.

“Stay the night?”

He laughs as he heads to the bathroom sink to wash his hands. “You’re kidding. That futon is barely big enough for you. I have work in the morning. I need actual sleep.”

I try not to let his rejection go to heart. He’s not turning me down, he’s just saying no to my slightly underwhelming abode.

“Besides, I’m trying to force you to see reason and come stay with me. I have a king-sized bed, two guest rooms, a really comfortable couch—all of those are better options than that futon.”

I scrunch my nose, annoyed at myself for wanting to cave. Does sleeping on a futon in this apartment make me any more independent than if I was sleeping with him in his big, comfy bed? Ugh.

He walks out of the bathroom and finishes collecting his tools.

“If you insist on staying here for a while, I’ll see about putting up a camera outside and maybe replacing that door. The deadbolt isn’t much more secure than the previous lock. If someone wanted to, they could still just kick the door down. It’s flimsy.”