Bennett (On the Line 2)

“Mom?”

“Charlotte!” She beamed and held her arms open.

The bottom of my paper grocery sack gave way and a can of beans fell onto my foot.

“Ouch.” I cringed and watched helplessly as oranges, cereal, and more cans scattered on the floor. And, of course, there had to be a dozen eggs in there, which were now cracked and spilling out of their package.

“Dammit,” I said softly, bending down.

“Hey, I’ve got it,” Bennett said, easing me back up by the shoulders. “Go inside.”

“Is this the new man?” my mom asked, coming out into the hallway.

Fuck! I wasn’t ready for this. My eyes filled with tears. She’d tell Liam and he’d murder Bennett the week before Christmas.

“Mom,” I said, sighing, “this is . . . Christopher.”

Yes. Christopher. Using his middle name would buy me some time.

“Well, hello, Christopher.” She stepped out into the hallway, her tone more like a cougar on the prowl than a mother.

“Hi,” Bennett said, extending his hand. She shook it and eyed him from head to toe.

“What happened here?” James appeared in the doorway, taking in the spilled groceries.

“You know what a klutz I am,” I said.

He smiled. “Let me clean this up. I owe you one for making me breakfast this morning.”

He ushered us all into the apartment, not making one off-color remark or obnoxious comment. Who was this guy, and what had he done with my annoying roommate?

“I’m making chicken and noodles for dinner,” my mom announced when I walked into the kitchen.

Hell yes. I loved her chicken and noodles, and comfort food sounded perfect right now. But that was partially because of her unannounced visit.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Oh, Michael and I are working through some issues,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “I needed a break so I thought I’d come see my kids for Christmas.”

“Oh.” More like, “Oh, shit,” but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“And I can get to know Christopher while I’m here,” she said, giving him a huge smile.

“Come sit down,” Bennett said to me, wrapping an arm around my back. “You look tired.”

He led me into the living room, sat down in my recliner, and then put his hands on my hips and moved me onto his lap.

“You don’t look tired,” he said softly in my ear. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

I laughed a little at that. My legs hung over the side of the chair, and he cradled an arm around my back. I relaxed against him.

“Did Riley propose to you?” he whispered.

My head shot up from its spot on his shoulder. “What? No, he called me a whore.”

“He what?” Bennett’s gaze darkened angrily.

“Why would you ask if he proposed to me?”