Bennett (On the Line 2)

My mouth opened slightly and I snapped it closed. “Are you serious right now? No, Bennett. I have not been drinking, other than water and milk and sometimes ginger tea to settle my stomach.”

His expression relaxed with relief just as our young, perky waitress approached, her gaze lingering on Bennett. He ordered beer, I ordered water, and we picked a pizza to share. As soon as the waitress left, I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself before the words flew.

“Look, you can’t just waltz in and out when you’re not on the road with your questions and your judgments.”

His eyes bulged. “Waltzing? There’s no waltzing happening here, baby. I’m just as much that kid’s parent as you are.”

“Don’t call me baby. Ever.” My voice rose and my cheeks warmed. This guy had a hell of a lot of nerve.

“Don’t accuse me of waltzing. Or judging. I need to know you’re taking care of yourself, and that requires me to ask some questions.”

“You’ll have to trust me. And you could also note the irony of a hockey player ragging on me about drinking and whether I’m seeing anyone.”

Now he was the one whose lips parted with surprise. “What, I have to be an alcoholic manwhore because I play hockey?”

I gestured toward him with my hand. “Exhibit A: we met at a bar and had sex on the first night. Not exactly a choirboy.”

He shook his head. “It takes two to tango, baby.”

I leaned closer to him. “I told you—”

“All right, we’ve got a Guinness draft and a water,” the waitress said, looking uncomfortable as she slid them onto the table. “Just a few minutes on that pizza.”

She left and I lowered my tone. “My brother is a hockey player, Bennett.”

“Don’t I know it,” he muttered.

“I know how you guys are, especially on the road. Don’t tell me not to date anyone when you’re probably getting laid nightly.”

I didn’t even want to date anyone; I just didn’t want him telling me not to.

He held my gaze across the table. “Charlotte, I’m doing everything I can to man up and be there for you. I don’t want to get shut out of this pregnancy or my kid’s life. And if you knew me, you’d know I would come empty the puke from your trash can if you needed it.”

I swallowed, feeling shut down.

“You’re too good for him, Charlotte. A good guy wouldn’t have applied for that job and not told you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are we back on Riley again?”

“You might be lonely, but if you need to talk, I’m always—”

I grabbed my coat and purse and slid out of the booth.

“You don’t even know me. And so far tonight, you’ve told me not to date, interrogated me about whether I’m willfully hurting my baby, and apparently decided I’m lonely.”

“Our baby,” he corrected.

I glared at him. “I’m taking a cab home. I’ll text you about the doctor’s appointment.”

“Charlotte, don’t do this.”

I slipped into my coat and buttoned it up. “Bye, Bennett.”

“At least let me drive you home.”

“I’m fine taking a cab. I was an independent person before I got pregnant, and I still am now. I don’t need a man sweeping in to save the day and rescue me from loneliness.”

“First I was waltzing and now I’m sweeping,” he muttered. “You’re almost as abrasive as Liam.”