Page 45 of Friends With Benefits

He swore as he pulled into his dark driveway. Friends didn’t treat friends that way. How could he live with himself? Not only was he questioning his whole career, he was now guilty of abusing his best friend. He was such an asshole.

***

“I owe you an apology.”

Mitch stood on her front door step Saturday afternoon. He looked adorably miserable, hair mussed, eyes shadowed.

She stood back and let him in, wiping her hands on a towel. What was he doing there?

“What are you doing?” he asked, sniffing.

She led the way into her kitchen, which looked like a chemistry lab with vials, jars, beakers and bottles spread everywhere. He looked around in amazement.

“Concocting.” She stirred a huge pot of mysterious liquid.

“I amnoteating that,” he said with a frown.

She laughed, and it was such a relief to have a genuine moment of amusement.

“It’s not for eating,” she told him. “It’s aromatherapy oil.”

“Ah.” He sniffed again and peered into the vat. “You look like a mad scientist.”

Suddenly conscious that she was wearing a T-shirt with oily stains and old shorts, her hair scraped back with an ugly headband, she grimaced.

“Thanks.”

“Seriously, is that what you’re making? How do you do that?”

She started telling him about the essential oils and herbs she was using.

“What do you do with this stuff?”

She shrugged. “I use it when I get out of the shower. I give some to friends. Lately, one of the massage therapists at the spa has been using it on some of her clients. Apparently they love it.”

“Oh. That’s why you were asking Jack about it that night.”

She nodded. “But please don’t say anything to Sela. Amanda hasn’t told her, and she’s afraid Sela would freak out if she started using something she didn’t know about.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” he said, with a shrug.

“I’m trying some new things.” There was silence other than the blurp-blurp-blurp of thick liquid as she poured it into the bottles arranged on the counter.

“Let me help,” he said. “That looks heavy.”

She let him take the pot and she steadied the bottles as he filled them, one after the other.

“So, um…why are you here again?” she asked, when the pot was empty. He set it down carefully.

“Oh, yeah.” He picked up a towel and wiped his hands slowly, looking a little embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize. For last night.” She watched him swallow.

“You were pretty intense last night.” That was an understatement. He’d shown up at her door all moody and dark, then proceeded to fuck her brains out. Not that she’d minded, but she’d definitely had the feeling something was bothering him. When he’d left in the middle of the night, although he’d kissed her good-bye, she’d still felt something wasn’t right.

He nodded. “Yeah. I had a kind of shitty week.”

“How come?” She looked at him steadily. “Work stuff?”Or “us stuff”?But she kept that question to herself.

“Yeah.” He said it almost with relief. “Hell, yeah.”

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