Rushing the Goal (Assassins #8)(56)

“Benji, be real. We’ve known each other a week.”

His face lit up. “Aw, it has been a whole week. I’ll send you some chocolates.”

Giggling, she rolled her eyes as she leaned back. “I’ll be okay. I always am.”

“No doubt. I can tell that about you.”

She looked away as she swallowed hard. She didn’t like to admit weakness—it wasn’t her. But for some reason, he made it a little less shitty to make such a confession. “Just sucks. I could really use a hug today.”

His bottom lip puckered out, and just like that, a grin covered her lips. “Would a virtual hug work? I’ll even tongue the phone.”

Sputtering with laughter, she shook her head. “Not the same.”

“I know, but I got you Saturday.”

She let out a sigh and said, “So far away.”

Crap. Did she say that? Why did she say that? Crap!

“Yeah,” he said slowly, a little bit of sadness in his eyes as he moved his hands through his hair. She didn’t know why he looked sad; she meant nothing to him, just some chick he slept with. But the look in his eyes said something entirely different and that was crazy. They’d just met. They were just friends. Sort of dating.

Ugh, she was stupid.

“But, hey,” he said, pulling her back to their conversation. “You know what I just thought of? I have an office building.”

Her brow quirked in confusion. “What? No, you don’t.”

“No, I do. Behind my house, there is like an in-law guesthouse that they had turned into an office. The people before me ran a carpet business out of it. You could use it if you want.”

“An in-law guesthouse?”

“Yeah, it’s a good size. You could easily put five people working comfortably in there. Go by the house and look. I have an extra key under the rock by the third bush on the side, where I parked my truck.”

She paused, giving him an incredulous look. “Benji, you shouldn’t tell people that when you’ve just met them.”

He shot her back the same look. “We’ve known each other a week, I slept with you the other night, and plus, you’re designing my house. You aren’t a stranger.” She rolled her eyes and he scoffed. “Shut it, just go check it out. See if it’s something that can work.”

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I mean, we’re cool now, but what if we aren’t later?”

He shrugged. “We’ll have a contract if that makes you feel better, and I’ll even take your money if you want. But what I do with it is my business.”

Her brows came together, her lips curving in confusion. “What the hell does that mean?”

“None of your business, just saying.”

She eyed him and then shook her head. “Let me think about it.”

“Fine, but while you’re at it,” he said and she brought her attention back to him, “make sure you think of me.”

Chuckling, she held his gaze. “Why would I do that?”

“’Cause I give good hugs.”

He sure as hell did.

And she was craving him like mad. Her lips curved as she leaned on her hand, looking at him. The tattoo on his chest was screaming at her, and man, she wanted to know, but it didn’t seem like the right time to ask. No, she’d want to do it face-to-face when they were alone. She had no clue when that would be, but maybe…

“What are you thinking about so hard?” he asked, his eyes on her.

She shrugged. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

He was taken aback and then he laughed. “I actually asked you out, I think, Wednesday, and you turned me down.”

She grimaced and she nodded. “I did, but if we are still talking in say, two weeks, do you think you could meet me somewhere to eat and hang out?”

He shook his head and her heart fell. He was rejecting her? “No, I can’t. Because after two weeks of us talking and getting to know each other, I’ll come to where you’re living. I’ll knock on the door, and when you answer it, I’ll be holding a single rose and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look. Then I’ll drive you to dinner and a movie, or dancing, or whatever you want. I’ll then take you back to my house for a long night of you know what,” he said, waggling his brows and making her giggle, “and then, I’ll kiss you goodnight. But I will not meet you somewhere, Lucy. You are way too special for that, and we aren’t f*ck buddies.”

No one had ever spoken to her like that.

Breathless, she held his gaze. “We aren’t?”

“Fuck, no. I’m thirty-two, I don’t have time for that. If I’m talking to you, being a complete and utter dork, showing who I really am, it’s because I see something in you. Something extraordinary. Something I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

Blinking twice, she looked down and sucked in a deep breath. “No clue what to say to that.”

“Don’t say anything. Just look at me, show me those dimples, and tell me to have a good game.”

Looking up, she gave him what he wanted, her grin so big she even felt her dimples cutting into her skin. When he smiled back, his eyes bright, she said, “Have a great game. Maybe text me afterward?”

“That was the plan,” he said simply and her heart fluttered. “I was going to try to score you a goal too.”