Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

That would have been humiliating.

Yet, it’s still humiliating because according to my family, everyone has known but me.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

I would have married him in a heartbeat when I was in college. Ben has always been handsome.

Okay, not handsome. Hot as fuck. He’s hot as fuck. And only gets hotter with age, which seems unfair somehow.

What would my life have been like if I’d married Ben rather than Lance?

I immediately squash that thought. It’s not fair to me or Ben. And as horrible as it was, I can’t regret it because it shaped me into who I am now, and I really like her.

I fought like hell to be here.

Being Ben’s has always been a secret fantasy of mine, but I don’t know what to make of it actually coming true. Part of me screams YES! DO IT!

And the other part says this has disaster written all over it.

He hasn’t given me an ultimatum, he’s given me a choice. If I say yes, and Ben and I start to date, and I fall deeply in love with him, it will be catastrophic if and when it all falls apart. I’m not trying to be a cynic, I just have to be realistic because it’s not just the two of us at stake. But if I say no, that I want him to back away, and we only see each other at family gatherings, well that sounds like a level of hell I don’t want to experience.

Just the thought has my stomach rolling, my chest fluttering, and I’m about a millisecond away from having an honest to God anxiety attack.

“Well, there’s your answer, idiot.” I take a deep breath and reach for my phone. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it now.

Before I lose my nerve. But it’s two in the morning, and he’s probably asleep.

The text is simple. Are you awake?

I set the phone down and sigh deeply. No going back now, the text is out there. And really, life is so damn short. Why shouldn’t we be together, if that’s what we want? We’re adults. If the relationship doesn’t work out, we can still be friends after.

Probably.

I get out of the bath, the water sliding down my naked body and I remember the way Ben touched me earlier in the day. Gently, like I’m something important. I wonder how he would touch me in bed.

Holy shit, I’m going to have sex with Ben.

I stare at myself in the mirror and then giggle, holding the towel over my mouth. My eyes travel down my body. I’m thin. Not as thin as I was right after the incident, but still on the thin side. The Krav Maga has given my muscles definition, and my boobs have always been a decent size.

On the down side, I have little bit of a belly that I’ve never been able to get rid of, no matter how many damn sit ups I do.

I shrug and finish drying off.

Who cares if I have a bit of fat on my belly? If Ben is a man worth being with, he won’t care.

And he won’t sit in a chair, eating a cupcake, while he makes me do dozens of sit ups.

We’re going to make you thin yet, sweetie. Keep going. I didn’t say you could stop. I’ll kick you in the cunt if you fucking stop again.

I shake the memory off, step into fresh clothes, and head to the kitchen. I have left over scones that I bought myself the other day, and I deliberately eat one, at two-thirty in the morning.

Fuck you, asshole.

I frown down at my phone. He hasn’t replied. Granted, I sent the text two minutes ago. He’s probably asleep, but now that I’ve made up my mind, I want to talk to him right now.

I’ve discovered I’m not a very patient woman these days.

After five more minutes of him still not responding, I decide to just go to his house. I can’t imagine that he’d be mad at me for waking him up, especially not with this news.

I can’t wait to see the smile on his face.

I grab my keys and bag and head out into the night. It’s been raining, so the streets are darker than normal, despite the streetlights. I hate it when it’s rained like this. It makes it harder to see.

Thankfully, Ben lives close to me, and I arrive in no time. I only passed a couple of other vehicles on my way.

I park and climb the stairs to the porch of his old home in the Garden District.

There’s no answer when I ring the bell.

I wait and ring it again twice, but there’s still no movement inside.

“Jesus, does he sleep like the fucking dead?” I ask aloud and walk down to the sidewalk to frown up at the windows on the second floor. I don’t know which window is his, since I have never been invited upstairs in his house, so I can’t throw pebbles up to wake him.

Besides, with my luck, I would just break the window, and we don’t want that. It’s not terribly romantic.

I shrug and return to my car. I guess I’ll go home and wait for him to wake up. It was silly to just show up here anyway. And this gives me time to really think about what I’m going to say. Because although I’ve made up my mind that I want to see where a romantic relationship between us will go, I also need to make it clear to him that the most important thing is the family.

Not his sexy arms, or the gentle way he touches me, or the way my heart about flutters out of my chest when I see him.

I turn the corner to my house and frown when I see his car in my driveway.

“What the—?”

I pull in, cut the engine, and sit for a moment, watching Ben. He’s sitting on the stairs, his arms braced on his knees, and he’s watching me with those bright blue eyes.

I get out of the car and walk toward him.

“Why are you out driving in the middle of the night?” he asks.

“I was at your house,” I reply and his lips twitch. “But you weren’t home.”

“We had the same idea,” he says and stands, holding his hand out for mine so he can guide me up the stairs. I’m perfectly capable of walking up the stairs on my own, but I won’t ever turn down the opportunity to hold Ben’s hand.

He has big hands, but when they touch me, they’re the most warm and gentle hands I’ve ever known “What was that thought?” he asks.

“I like your hands.” I shrug and unlock my door and then lead him inside.

“Van—” he begins, but I turn and wrap my arms around him, hugging him close. “Hey.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter as he closes the door behind him and loops his strong arms around me, holding me close. “I just needed this.”

“It’s yours,” he whispers and kisses the top of my head.

“Did you get my text?” I ask. He grips my shoulders and pushes me back, a frown on his face.

“No.”

“Oh. I thought maybe that’s why you were here.”

He shakes his head. “I left my phone at home. I didn’t hear it go off.”

“Then why are you here?”