Page 6

6

BEN

I didn’t mean to follow her out to the car park, but I also couldn’t stand in there with Jameson grinning at me like he knew the inner workings of my mind better than I did.

“I’m not apologising. You acted like a jerk.” The words float over her shoulder to me as I approach her.

A small chuckle falls from my lips as she stops and turns to face me, her hands on her hips in defiance. “How did I act like a jerk exactly? You were struggling to even breathe up there and I helped you. Normal people say thank you. Not accuse others of being arrogant and egotistical before stomping off like a petulant child.”

As I speak, I take a few steps toward her. Her mask of anger and distaste slips a little as she dips her tongue out to wet her lips and lets her eyes rove over my body. I like her looking at me, almost as much as I like looking at her. Her long dark hair is loose and frames her heart shaped face. Little freckles dance across her cheeks and her hazel eyes burn with anger, whether it’s still aimed at our situation or the fact I caught her checking me out is unknown.

She folds her arms across her chest, defensive and standoffish. “I didn’t ask anyone to speak for me. Didn’t need rescuing. I told you I’m not a damsel in distress. Save your gallant Prince Charming duties for the slew of wannabes you usually date.”

My grin gets wider. I don’t know why I’m doing this but I am. “So that’s your issue. You’re pissed off that I dared to help the great and powerful Penelope Richards and you’re jealous of my dates.”

She shoots me a look that I’ve no doubt would wither a lesser man but does nothing but make me chuckle. “I couldn't give a rat’s ass who you date. In fact, I feel sorry for anyone who has to be anywhere near you.”

She spits the words through gritted teeth and I have to fight the urge to step closer to her just to see what she’d do. But I quite like my balls intact, so I stay where I am.

“It’s okay, Penelope. You don’t need to apologise. It’s fine.” I’ve surprised her and I chuckle softly at her gasp. “You seemed shocked. What did you expect a gallant Prince Charming to do? Put you over his knee and spank you like a naughty girl or something?”

I watch her closely and I’m pleasantly surprised when her pupils dilate and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. She likes the idea of that, just like she liked the idea of me biting her. I liked that too, a little too much, but we’re not here for that. Not yet anyway.

“No, not at all. How demeaning.”

Her words say one thing but her reactions tell me a different story. Her nipples have tightened under her silk top and her breathing is deeper. And while I’d love to explore more, keep talking and see what her body's reaction would be to my words, she is Hank's daughter. Plus, she’s linked so intricately to people who work for me, I can’t. My tastes aren’t for everyone, and I never thought I’d be considering spanking Penelope Richards, but her reactions are definitely giving me food for thought. Even if that’s all it’ll ever be, thoughts.

“Hmmm quite. Anyway, for Hank’s sake, can we at least be civil with each other? I care a lot for your father and would hate to upset him. We also have mutual friends in Jenson and Angie, so less flouncing off after you’ve insulted me would be for the best. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh now you want to be civil? After years of ignoring me, pretending I don’t exist, you want me to smile and be nice to you. All because you’ve entangled yourself with my family and don’t want it to be awkward. Screw you!”

She frowns at me again, but I refuse to give her the reaction she wants so she can carry on this argument. After a short pause, I hit her with a smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “Wonderful. Until next time, Buttercup.”

I dip my head, take her hand and place my lips on her skin. She takes a sharp intake of breath and snatches her hand away, cradling it as if my lips burned her, and I leave without a second glance.

Believe me when I say you would be the last man I’d ever depend on.

Her words float into my mind and stop my thought process for what must be the millionth time this hour. Throwing my pen on top of the spreadsheet, I lean back in my chair. My desk is a mess. My normal organisational skills have skipped out on me today. I’ve got papers and cold cups of tea littering the wooden surface. My hair looks like I’ve just been dragged out of bed. And it’s all because I can’t concentrate on anything for longer than ten minutes without Penelope Richards invading my thoughts.

She’s so fucking frustrating. Devastatingly beautiful, but bloody infuriating. She went from desperate and flighty to flirty banter to cut throat bitch in front of her friends and family in a split second. And I’m still dealing with the whiplash.

I know what I saw. The panic in her eyes. The catch of her breath as she attempted to walk the steps up to the stage. I knew she wasn’t comfortable up there, and I couldn’t just leave her to the lions, I tried to help. Rescue the damsel in distress.

A smirk twitches on my lips. She’s definitely not a damsel in distress, she told me that enough times, but I like the idea of her needing me. Like I have this hold on her. Even if it isn’t appreciated after.

I haven’t had that many interactions with Penelope, which is strange seeing as our town is small and our social circle is so intricately linked. But flirting with her at the party, even though I'd told myself I wouldn’t, was an interaction I didn’t see coming. Her not wanting to react but not being able to hold herself back was definitely interesting as well. It’s a strange game, but I don’t want to stop playing. Not now that I know I can get her all riled up by just standing next to her.

She accused me of ignoring her. And while I most definitely did try, I could never escape her. Not really. I’ve heard stories about her ever since I came to America, but even more so since the carnival. And not just from Hank, who surprisingly has told me less about her than the Bradys have. They all seem to want to talk to me about her, and I could never refuse, even before our little spat.

After spending game nights with the brothers, I’ve learnt how fiercely she loves her friends and family. How much she loves teaching. And that if it wasn’t for her, the Brady boys probably would have died of alcohol poisoning more than once through their teen years. Hearing about her night after night made me feel like we’ve been friends for years, but in reality we’ve barely spoken.

She calls me arrogant, thinks I’m egotistical, says it like it’s a bad thing. But I see it as confidence. I know how good I am at what I do. I know what my qualities are. I’m even man enough to accept my flaws. And she thinks I care only about myself. That’s simply not true. I care about the Spartans, Hank, my family and friends.

And I really care when I know she’s out on a date. The idea of another man making her smile, bringing that flush to her cheeks, owning her mouth with his makes my blood boil.

So Penelope may think I’ve ignored her, but she’s always been on my radar.

Frowning at my own thoughts, I grab my phone to check out my social media. Maybe that will take my mind off her.

“What the…?”

Why am I splashed all over Insta, standing on stage with Penelope while Hank is walking up to the stage? It was supposed to be a private party for a reason.

I quickly check who posted it and roll my eyes when I clock Jenson fucking Brady’s handle. Checking the caption, I realise it’s just another part of Jenson’s ‘community outreach’, a way to get his reputation back to squeaky clean. He’s already achieved it, it’s what the bloody carnival was for, but he’s still doing little things to overcompensate for the next time his mouth runs away with itself.

‘Family over everything’ #Hankisthebest #sisterfromanothermister #bossmantoBrady.

Part of me wants to ignore it, while another part—a bigger part—wants to explore, so I scroll over the comments. Comment after comment assaults my eyes, every one declaring Jenson the best thing since sliced bread.

A grin forms on my lips. Angie certainly worked wonders with his image if people are this taken with him again. I keep scrolling, rolling my eyes at the numerous comments of women asking to be a part of his family. Angie will be furious at them, and it makes me laugh and frown at the same time.

Deciding I’ve had enough comments and pictures of myself, I scroll through the rest of my newsfeed, stopping abruptly when I see the same photo of us, this time cropped so it looks like we’re the only ones in the whole damn place.

I can’t escape her. And the worst part is, I don’t really want to.

Taking a closer look at who posted this image, I bristle when I realize it’s from a well known entertainment account notorious for spouting shit about my dating life. They’ve lifted the image from Jenson’s post. The image is ridiculous in itself but the caption… ‘The look of lust?’

Fuck. We do look like we’re seconds from ripping each other's clothes off. I’m standing slightly behind her, leaning down to speak in her ear. Her eyes are hooded and that fucking lip is between her teeth again.

I scroll to the comments and scoff when I read the first one. Get you a man who looks at you like Ben looks at her . Another comment reads: I knew there was someone he had a thing with. He’s been so obvious.

Have I? I avoid all paparazzi and go to extreme lengths to not have my private life splashed online, so how have I been obvious?

My frustration is growing, but so is my curiosity, and I can’t seem to stop scrolling through the comments.

I dunno who Penny is but she’s a lucky lady. Ben is HOT! Well that one I agree with.

Ben has definitely outkicked his coverage with her. Hmmm.

My little Buttercup and big bossman… I hear wedding bells. Dibs on best man. Jenson fucking Brady.

I throw the phone on my desk and ignore the number of likes his comment received. I’m going to kill him. But Penelope’ll probably do it first.

Running my hand over my face, I groan. Not that long ago, Jenson was the town pariah. Now he’s on Insta shouting about wedding bells. He’s lucky he’s so indispensable or I’d get Coach to bench his arse. As much as it would humour me, I know I won’t do anything. Jenson has become a good friend of mine. He’s irritating as anything, but he’s like one of those annoying puppies—full of energy and constantly yapping, but you feel bad if you’re mean to it.

During the whole pariah thing, he’d often come to my office for a chat. To let me know where his head was at. And the visits kept coming long after Angie had worked her magic and he was loved by all again. Game nights on a Friday are something I look forward to, not that I’d ever willingly tell him that. And as much as he thinks he’d like me to date his ‘sister’, he wouldn’t.

The women I date share my predilections. We sign NDA’s to protect us both. And after our physical relationship is over, we both move on. There’s no time for hearts and chocolates. I don’t give a second thought to any of them once our mutual agreement has reached its end.

I don’t think he’d want that for her. And I certainly don’t want to be taken down by my star QB for breaking his sister's heart because I’m too much of a coward to risk my own.

A knock at my office door has me sitting up straight and trying to declutter my desk before I offer a ‘come in.’ As if my thoughts conjured him, the man himself stalks into my office with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Whassup bossman?” Jenson flops onto the sofa in the corner of my room, behind my desk, so I have to spin on my chair to face him.

“Just scrolling through Insta. Wedding bells, huh?” My brow rises of its own volition and he starts to laugh and slaps his thigh.

“Listen, that pic was HAWT. Tell me I’m lying,” he counters and shoots his own raised brow at me.

Sighing and leaning back in my chair, I cross my leg and rest my ankle on my thigh.

“You’re not lying, but you know Penelope hates me, right? That comment’s just going to make her pissed with you as well as me. And this time I didn’t even do anything.” I run my hand through my hair and blow out a breath.

“Why do you care if she’s pissed with you?”

“I don’t. I’d rather avoid another confrontation in front of Hank, though.” I answer as honestly as I can, but I know it hasn’t done anything to stop his thoughts.

“What’s the deal with you and Buttercup? You’re interested in her, she’s interested in you, why all the pretend hate?” He rests his elbows on his knees and stares at me. He's cocky, seeing as he’s sitting in his boss’s office discussing personal shit instead of at game night.

“No idea what you’re talking about. Does she like you calling her Buttercup?” I hit him with a glare which normally shuts down any further conversation, but I’m not dealing with a ruthless businessman here, I’m dealing with a Brady. Someone who knows how to push his luck and use his charm to get away with most things.

He grins back and narrows his eyes at me. “Nope. She loves the film The Princess Bride but hates that nickname. I like to annoy her.” He smirks and runs his hand over his chin as I frown back. “Just like I think you like to annoy her too. And I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. I think whatever got her riled up at the party is the same thing that’s gotten you riled up now. But I think you’re both too pig headed to admit it.”

He raises his head, chuckles at the ceiling, and then lets his eyes meet mine. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. The Bradys are on the case. So buckle up, Bossman, because you’re in for a wild ride.”

He outright cackles as he stands and breezes out of my office like he didn’t just open a huge can of worms I have no idea how to close again. Fucking Brady.

I spin in my chair and grab the spreadsheet I’d abandoned and continue to ruminate over all the stupid things I’ve done lately.