Bring Me Back

“What’cha lookin’ at darlin’?” He feigns a thick—and truly appalling—southern accent.

“That dent in your face.” I surprise him by poking his dimple.

He throws his head back and laughs. Tipping his head down, his blue eyes shimmer with mischief. “I happen to know for a fact that you love that so-called dent.”

“And how do you know that?” I raise one brow when I step back and cock my hip.

He leans against the counter casually. “Not only have you told me on numerous occasions, but you also frequently mumble about it in your sleep.” He crosses his hands together and lays his head on them, pretending to be asleep. “Oh, Ben, your dimples are so cute. I just want to lick them,” he says in a thick voice.

I swat at his arm. “I do not.”

He laughs and straightens. “You don’t but I wouldn’t mind if you boasted about me in your sleep.” He winks.

I shake my head. “Silly boy.”

He pinches my ass. “Man, B. All man.”

I skitter out of the kitchen and he laughs behind me. “You’re cleaning up on your own now.”

“Not a punishment,” he yells back.

I pad into the bedroom and take a shower. I don’t take long, and when I’m done I apply some makeup and part the front part of my hair—braiding a section of it and pulling it back into a bun.

With my robe secured around me, I step into the closet and flick on the light, searching the racks. I settle on a pair of black jeans, a short-sleeve black shirt that dips low with several cutouts, and since it’s chilly out, I top it with a black leather jacket. I try to mix up my wardrobe, but I have to admit that most of the things I own are black. It’s my go-to.

When I enter the bedroom, Ben is just coming back in.

“I’m going to see if I can get some more sleep,” he says with a yawn.

I nod. “Good idea.” I grab my phone off the table and see a text from Casey. Ben is slipping beneath the sheets when I say, “Hey, Casey wants us all to meet up for lunch at the café. You wanna go?”

He yawns again. “I can do that. I don’t go back into work until tomorrow night.”

“Please tell me you have a shorter shift?” I ask him.

He nods. “It’s twelve-hours.”

“Better than twenty-four,” I mumble. I understand the need for such long shifts, but it really sucks and I hate the toll it puts on him. “Have a good nap.”

I ease out of the room and close the door—not before I see Winnie jump on the bed beside Ben and snuggle close. She’s such a whore.

I busy myself with cleaning the house and work. Always work. I’m not complaining, though. A year ago I would’ve never imagined I’d have so much interest in my little planning business. Especially in such a small town. But word gets out and that’s been my best ally. It’s not like I have a lot of money to spend on marketing.

Ben comes downstairs a few hours later. His blond hair is ruffled around his head and he’s still shirtless. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to kill me—only so he can restart my heart.

“How was your nap?” I ask him, turning down the volume on the TV.

“Good,” he says and opens the refrigerator door, bending to grab a bottle of water. “What time are we meeting them for lunch?”

I push the round button on my phone so it lights up. “We have an hour.”

He finishes his sip of water and lowers the bottle. “You know what we could do in an hour?” He waggles his brows.

I roll my eyes. “I think I have an idea.”

He sets his bottle of water on the counter and runs over, jumping into the air to make it over the back of the couch.

“Ben.” I laugh when he practically lands on top of me.