Page 27 of Benji

“I didn’t know what you wanted on your toast,” he said. On his plate was one slice of toast cut in half with a smear of peanut butter.

I took half, grinning as I bit into it. “Peanut butter’s fine.”

“Hey!” He laughed, swatting at my hand.

But then he took my plate and spread some peanut butter on the toast, cut it in half, and stole one of my halves. His playful smile and sparkling eyes caught me by surprise, and I had to make myself look away. I sipped my coffee as a distraction.

“Did your friends check in after last night?” I asked.

“Yep. All is well.” He nodded, popping a strawberry in his mouth. Which of course, made him groan. “Oh, that’s so good.”

I was still stuck on that filthy sound hejust made.

“You like strawberries?” My voice was rougher than I’d intended.

“Mmm,” he said, having another and making another obscene sound that curled low in my belly. “That’s so good. I haven’t had fresh strawberries in years.” Then he did a cute little happy wiggle. “This is all so good. You’re spoiling me so much I won’t want to leave.”

I found myself smiling at him, at how happy fresh food made him. I wanted to ask what his story was, how he came to be working like he did, but didn’t want to ruin his mood.

We had a week to delve deeper into personal waters.

I wondered if he’d tell me. And I wondered how bad it might be, and then I realised maybe I shouldn’t even ask. Maybe I should give him a week to escape from his reality.

“You’ll have to think about what you want for dinner. We can order something if you’d rather I didn’t cook.”

He smiled behind his coffee. “Or I could cook,” he suggested. “I haven’t done that in a while and I can’t promise it’ll be any good, but it’s the least I can do.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re paying me, after all.”

“I’m not paying you to cook though.”

“We haven’t really discussed what you’re paying me for,” he murmured. One of his eyebrows rose artfully, his smirk far too sultry.

“I’m covering your rent and loss of income because I hit you with my car,” I replied. “I don’t expect anything in return.”

He sighed, then smiled as he sipped his coffee. “You can put me to work if you want,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “I have... certain skills.”

Jesus.

My body knew exactly what he was implying but my brain had to intervene. “Breakfast was great, thank you. Maybe you can work on some lunch-making skills around midday.” I checked my watch as I stood up. “I should get busy.”

Benji smiled, watching me as I stole a slice of strawberry and put my plate in the sink.

“I think I’ll watch a movie,” he announced. “Seeing as I have hours to fill in.”

“Good idea.”

“I can watch in your room, if that’s okay. That way I won’t distract you if you’re working at the table.”

“Of course. Though you can watch out here. I’m good at tuning out noise. I don’t mind one bit.”

He pouted as he considered this, and damn, if he didn’t do it deliberately. Like he knew what those full, pouty lips did to me. “I might get lonely in your room,” he murmured. “Your bed is too big for one person.”

Yep. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I laughed and shook my head. “Does playing the sweet boy win over all your clients?”

He smiled, biting his bottom lip. “Yes.”

“I can see why.”

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