“Are the other wives really that bad? You can’t hang out with them?”

  “Some of them are nice, but like I said, not all of them travel. They have families and stuff. It just so happens that the women who are usually around are the ones I really can’t stand.”

  Dinner (or wherever we’re going) is over in Maken, and it takes us forty minutes to drive there.

  Since returning from California, I haven’t made it to Maken at all, so I’m not expecting to find a chic French bistro nestled in the heart of town square. It must be new and, judging by the line of people wrapped around the block, very popular.

  “Looks like it’ll be a while before we can snag a table.”

  “Oh…uh”—she clears her throat—“we’ll be alright. C’mon.”

  I don’t pay enough attention to her strange response, and I should have because when we walk into the restaurant, past the two bodyguards stationed at the door, I realize the entire back half of the place has been cordoned off. We can’t even get to the private dining room entrance until we pass through another blockade of bodyguards who recognize Leanna right away, ask to see my ID, jot down whatever information they find pertinent, and then let us both through.

  “Sorry, they can be weird like that sometimes,” Leanna tells me, hooking her elbow around mine.

  “It’s okay. Just doing their job.”

  She smiles and tugs me through the door held open for us by one of the guards, and an intimidating scene unfurls before me: a long table filled with all the Olympic basketball players, along with their girlfriends and wives.

  I feel all eyes on us as we step into the room. One gaze in particular carries so much weight it’s hard to keep one foot moving in front of the other. I saw Ben the moment I walked in. My eyes hunted for him, praying and pleading that he would be here among these people. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or worried to find that he is. My gaze barely lingered on him, but it was enough to sear his image into my memory, every detail rendered perfectly: clean-shaven jaw, prominent brow, that ridiculously sexy hair with a hint of wave to it.

  He sits in the center of the table, surrounded by people—a fact that makes me inexplicably sad.

  “Lele!” Anthony calls out in greeting, shooting to his feet alongside Trey. Trey catches Anthony’s shoulder and pushes him back down in his chair.

  “Don’t,” Trey warns.

  “I wasn’t going to do anything! Damn, you need to chill!”

  It’s very obvious from the mischievous grin on Anthony’s face that he was about to come over and cause trouble just to get a rise out of Trey. Fortunately for the room, Trey reaches us first, bending to kiss Leanna and then shooting me a friendly smile.

  “Hey, Raelynn. You guys got here just in time. We were about to order. Come sit.” He ushers us farther into the room and makes a sweeping introduction on my behalf. “Everyone, this is Raelynn. Raelynn, this is the team—”

  “Yeah, we met her already, Trey,” someone calls out. I think his name is LaMarcus. He was one of the guys at the diner a few weeks ago. “Same time you did.”

  “Yeah, well, not everyone was there that day, so shut up.”

  There’s laughter and snickers all around the room as we get led back toward the end of the table where Trey was sitting. There’s a vacant seat beside him, but everyone realizes a beat too late that there’s not another seat right beside that one for me. In fact, there’s not another open seat at the table at all. My cheeks turn into two hot flames. If I weren’t already seen as an outsider, it’s painfully obvious that I am one now.

  “She could go get a chair from out there,” a girl says with a noticeably bitter tone. She might as well add, And she can just eat out there too while she’s at it.

  Ben stands, his chair screeching, and every eye in the room turns to him.

  He doesn’t say a word as he turns and leaves the room, likely to ask someone on staff to bring me a chair, but then a moment later he reappears with one in hand.

  I watch in shock as he curves around the table, back to his seat.

  I frown, expecting him to continue carrying the chair over to where Leanna and I are standing, but instead he drops it right beside his.

  “Move down,” he tells the guy beside him.

  The guy looks confused and points over toward us. “There’s plenty of room—”

  His words cut off once he gets a good look at Ben’s face.

  “Alright, jeez! I’m moving. I’m moving, but all these fools have to shove down too. You know if you wanted to sit by her that badly, you could have just told us.”

  Leanna laughs under her breath but has enough sense to stay quiet.

  I hear a few whispers, but nothing is said loud enough for me to get a grasp on what these people think of Ben’s behavior.

  I would welcome a nice huge crack in the floor, or maybe a small earthquake or tornado—any distraction from the eyes shooting back and forth between Ben and me.

  I don’t really have a choice but to follow his lead. It would be so awkward to insist that he move the chair down by Leanna, and the last thing I want to do is make this moment last even longer. I’ll go to him and I’ll take the seat he’s offering me so dinner can resume and everyone can forget I exist.

  I avoid eye contact with everyone like my life depends on it as I force myself to start walking in his direction. I’m intensely relieved that I don’t teeter on the high heels I borrowed from Leanna. I’d never recover from the mortification if I did.

  Once I’m in front of him, I sneak a quick glance up at him from beneath my lashes, and his face is impossible to read. He looks calm, but deadly. Quiet, but I’m sure there are a million thoughts hidden behind those brown eyes.

  I take the seat he got for me, and he pushes it in nice and snug against his chair before he reclaims it.

  I’m in his space, closer to him than I am to the guy on my right. He’s done it on purpose, I think, because he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He waves down a waiter.

  “She just arrived and needs a drink. Raelynn?”

  “Water is fine, please,” I squeak.

  It’s annoying that I’m still the most interesting thing at the table at the moment. Normal conversation hasn’t fully resumed and I still feel people’s eyes on me, no doubt dying for information.

  I stare down at the tablecloth.

  “Want me to put your purse on the back of your chair?”

  Oh.

  I shake my head to clear my thoughts and slide off the thin strap of the borrowed purse to hang it on the back of my chair myself. Nothing I’m wearing tonight is mine, and I wonder what Ben thinks about that. I wonder if he finds me more beautiful than ever. If he likes the luster and shine on my short dress and heels.

  Another stolen glance reveals his attention is still on me. His dark brows are tugged together. His eyes are on my dress, my neck, my mouth. I shiver and lean in.

  “What?” I whisper quietly.

  His eyes widen for an instant, as if he didn’t realize he was being watched.

  He shakes his head and looks away.

  I hate the tension and awkwardness surrounding us. The last time he and I were together, I was shouting at him and kicking him out of my trailer. Now we’re at a table with two dozen people, forced into this civilized setting even though I’m not quite ready for it. I’ve been aware of his absence from the diner, aware of the fact that I missed him, but now that he’s right beside me, I’m at a loss for how I’m supposed to act.

  Clearly, Ben’s also aware of the issue.

  With a sigh, he loops his arm around the back of my chair, leans in, and tilts his face so his mouth is close to my ear.

  “Relax, will you? We’re fine.”

  His breath skates over my neck.

  “We’re not fine,” I hiss quietly.

  Not quietly enough, though, because the guy beside me chuckles.

  “You’re still mad at me?” Ben presses.

  “Yes.”

  “For what exactly?”

  He might as well be whispering sweet nothings into my ear with the way my body is reacting. My back arches ever so slightly, trying to bring me closer to him. With his arm on the back of my chair, it’s like he’s enveloping me on all sides. His hand touches my shoulder and his thumb brushes back and forth, a little nothing gesture that sends my heart careening over the side of a cliff. He can’t just touch me like this in public. He can’t touch me at all.

  This image we’re presenting to the group is not at all an accurate depiction of what we are. We don’t have intimate conversations like this. We don’t whisper to each other and press our bodies close.

  “Imagine if I had done that to you, looked into your life like that.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Oh, it isn’t? Why is that? Because I’m not as important as you? My secrets aren’t as valuable?”

  “Birdie—”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  I think he’s about to really let me have it. I’m poking him in public. This is close to all-out war, but then I catch him fight a smile out of the corner of my eye. The bastard has to take the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth to keep it from spreading.

  “Stop.”

  “Your secrets are just as important as mine,” he says, shifting his head so our eyes lock. My stomach squeezes tight. “But, it’s just not the same. Everything online about me, it’s personal. They want the skeletons in my closet.”

  For the first time since I met Ben, I regret not looking into him. I know nothing about him beyond what he’s told me himself and what I’ve heard in passing around town and from Leanna.

  If we weren’t currently at dinner, surrounded by people on all sides, I’d press him for more information. What skeletons could they possible uncover? But the waiter is already back with my water, and I have to lean away from Ben so I can pick up my menu and decide what I want to order.

  My eyes practically bug out of my head once I get a look at the prices. There’s not a thing on the menu I could afford save for maybe a side salad. I decide to just do that and then I’ll eat something else when I get home. Whenever that may be.

  The waiter comes back around the table and I listen to everyone ordering before me: grilled ribeye, chicken fricassée with creamy morel mushroom sauce, braised leg of lamb stew. My mouth is watering.

  “Miss?”

  I smile up at him. “Oh I’ll have a side salad with the house dressing, please.”

  I pray everyone around me thinks I’m watching my weight rather than just flat-out poor, but considering I don’t have much meat on my bones to begin with…

  “We’re sharing,” Ben tells the waiter. “We’ll each have a side salad, and then we’d like the ribeye”—he looks back down at me—“and did you want the red snapper or the chicken?”

  For a moment, I hesitate, almost tempted to argue, but then my growling stomach wins out.

  “Chicken please,” I say, smiling gently at the waiter.

  Ben passes off our menus and settles right back into place with his arm thrown over the back of my chair. He doesn’t look at me as he picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip. He knows I’m watching him, though, because he tips the glass in my direction.

  I hold my hand out to take it, but then suddenly, he hesitates and smiles.

  “Wait…how old are you?”

  His brows are furrowed. It’s like he can’t believe he doesn’t know the answer.

  I steal the wine glass out of his hand. “Old enough.”

  Barely.

  I take a small sip, and Ben watches me with rapt attention as my lips touch the rim.

  The red wine passes over my tongue, slightly bitter as I swallow.

  “It’s good.”

  “Keep it,” he says, eyeing the last half of the glass. “They’re bringing more. I can get another glass.”

  It’s intimate, of course, to have Ben’s wine glass, to put my mouth where his was. I don’t think that fact escapes him either. I take another small sip and have to look away from him for a moment, just to catch hold of reality once again.

  The chatter going on around us makes it feel like we’re alone at the crowded table. Everyone has gone back to their own conversations, forgetting about us mostly. The man to my right is having a heated discussion with his other seatmate, so I don’t worry about turning my body ever so slightly toward Ben or brushing my bare shoulder against his arm in an attempt to get closer to him, though I’d never admit that out loud.

  “You’re old enough to drink,” Ben notes while he surveys me. “But something tells me you don’t drink much.”

  “Wine’s not a necessity. So no, I don’t drink much.”

  He responds with a soft grumble as if he’s annoyed to be reminded of the way I live, pinching pennies.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  I can hear the barely restrained emotion in his tone. I know we’ve only put a pin in our discussion from the other night, and something tells me Ben would love nothing more than to pick up right where we left off. I haven’t forgiven him, but I’m here in this glitzy dress, practically in his arms.

  “Are you going to tell me about your skeletons?” I say suddenly, turning my body toward him even more, dropping my hand to the edge of his chair, right beside his thigh.

  He stiffens and his eyes narrow with thought as he assesses me.

  “Or will I have to read about them online like everyone else?”

  He arches a brow. “You haven’t already?”

  “I’m sure you won’t believe me, but no, I haven’t looked you up. I don’t get internet on my phone, and my laptop was property of Caltech so I couldn’t take it with me when I left.”

  “Still…if you were curious…” he says, pressing me.

  I shrug and take another small sip of wine. “Maybe I wasn’t that curious.”

  He looks at me as if I just admitted I’m not that into him, like he’s never beheld a person not trying to get close to him by any means necessary.

  The bold expression, the utter lack of self-awareness. This man has the world and he still wants more. He wants me.

  I lean in so my lips aren’t far from his, then I glance up to his eyes and make sure he’s listening carefully. “Maybe I should remind you that you’ve been the one pursuing me.”

  “Pursuing?”

  I smile then, suddenly sick of the games. “Yes, Ben. I see how you watch me. I see that hungry look in your eyes like you’d love nothing more than to drop me right onto this table and eat.”

  His brown eyes are enflamed as he takes his wine glass back from me and downs the contents in one go. My smug smile can barely be contained.

  “Watch yourself, Little Bird.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I just might do it.” Goose bumps bloom across my body, and I know he feels them. I must look so utterly dumbstruck, because he continues as if I don’t know what he’s referring to. “Drop you right on this table…”

  My jaw drops ever so slightly.

  We’ve never done this. Over the last few weeks, we’ve had polite conversation with our mouths while eating each other up with our eyes, but tonight, we’ve crossed a line. We’ve named our desire, and it feels dangerous to have it out in the open between us. Now, it feels like there’re vapors in the air that might go up in flames at any moment.

  Ben’s eyes shift to something behind me and he lifts his hand.

  “She’ll have another glass of the cabernet, please.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  “Nothing. Thank you.”

  The waiter walks away and I tilt my head. “Not drinking much tonight?”

  “I’ve had that glass and I don’t need anything else. I’m driving you home.”

  “I left my car at the diner.”

  “Then I’m driving you to the diner.”

  I arch a brow. “Oh, are you?”

  “Yes. Should I tell Lele right now? Announce it to the whole table?”

  My cheeks burn hot and I reach out to grip his forearm, to keep him from making a scene.

  His mouth splits into a gut-punching smile. “Not an attention seeker then?”

  My eyes narrow into slits. “Do I look like one to you?” His gaze flits over my dress, and I know what he’s thinking. I speak before he can. “This isn’t mine. Leanna dressed me tonight.”

  He chuckles under his breath. “It’s not about the dress.”

  I roll my eyes and try to shift away from him. “Oh please.”

  His hand on my shoulder keeps me in place. “You don’t see yourself clearly, Birdie.”

  I huff out an annoyed breath. “Don’t I? Maybe I’m confused then. I thought I was the girl in the trailer. Guess I’m wrong. Have I been livin’ in a big ol’ mansion this whole time?”

  “You think any of that matters?”

  “No. I know it doesn’t matter. I know I have a good heart and a good head on my shoulders. Still, I don’t need you coming to town and filling me up with ideas, Ben. You’re leaving.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Soon enough.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, watching me as I keep my attention straight ahead. I don’t realize how deeply I’m scowling, how intensely annoyed and sad I am until he leans in and presses a kiss to my shoulder, just beside the strap of my dress. It’s the first time his lips have touched my skin, and I can’t keep my eyes from squeezing shut to try to hold on to the sensation.

  “Thirteen days is longer than you think.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben

  Raelynn is pure sunshine in her shimmery dress. There’s nothing all that fancy about it, or her. Sure, Lele has clearly dolled her up a bit, but her blonde hair still hangs in loose wild waves. Her skin is still tan and freckled, not hidden under thick layers of makeup. I can smell her shampoo. I can read every emotion in her pale blue eyes.

  When she walked into the private dining room of the restaurant, I wasn’t expecting her. Lele didn’t tell me she was bringing Raelynn. It’s why I didn’t act right away. It’s why it took me a moment to shoot to my feet and get Raelynn a chair. I was as awestruck as the rest of the guys in this room.