“Uh, Rae Montgomery?” the man at the door says.
I nod. “I’ll sign for those. Three mattresses and frames, right?”
“And a table and chairs.”
“Right. Of course.”
I must be frazzled. I’m usually on top of all these details. What else did I buy? I’ll have to check my account—moving is expensive.
As Benji walks into the room, making my heart skip a beat and my lungs constrict, I know why I can’t think straight right now.
It’s him. Whenever he’s near, my brain turns to mush. I can’t think about anything except how big he is, and broad, and how freaking good he smells. His presence has the power to turn me into a hair-twirling, eyelash-batting, heart-thumping mess.
With a trembling hand, I sign the delivery paper, then watch as the two men start to unload the van. I direct them to each bedroom, expecting them to stay and set up the flat-pack furniture. When they shut the truck and climb in, I run out onto the front lawn.
“Uh, excuse me? What about assembly?”
“That costs extra,” the driver explains. “We have three more deliveries to make this evening. It’s late. Sorry. They’ll send someone out tomorrow if you call the store.”
Without another word, they drive off, and my shoulders drop. I turn to see Benji in the doorway, a smirk playing over his lips.
“Don’t,” I say, shooting him a glare.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t laugh. Whatever snide comment you have ready for me, spare me. Just this once.”
He opens his mouth, and I expect to hear something about me being rich and helpless and disorganized.
Instead, Benji nods toward his sister’s house. “I’ll grab some tools. I can help you with the beds.”
When Benji makes a move toward his sister’s place, I catch his hand in mine. Warmth blooms over my skin, wrapping me in delicious heat. I bite my lip, staring into Benji’s eyes.
He doesn’t pull away.
“Why?” I ask softly.
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me?”
Benji takes a deep breath, his blue eyes gleaming as he meets my gaze, and finally shrugs. “I don’t know.”
He pulls away from me, and I watch him head toward Sarah’s garage. I walk back inside, dragging the new dining room table over to its proper place and positioning chairs around it. At least they came fully assembled. The beds are a different story.
Benji reappears with a tool bag and a platter piled high with three burgers and a mountain of salad. “Sarah insisted,” he explains.
My heart swells as a lump reappears in my throat.
When I came to Woodvale, I was expecting some tense times with my brother. I thought it would be difficult to settle into a new place, but I did it for Lucy. Her college program is good, and I thought there was a chance Sawyer would forgive me for not coming with him.
I didn’t expect kindness from strangers. I didn’t expect neighbors to talk to me, let alone invite me over for dinner. I certainly didn’t expect the big, burly mechanic—who’s made it very clear he doesn’t like me—to help me more than anyone else.
No one has helped me out of the goodness of their heart before. No one’s made me dinner and brought tools over to my house, despite thinking I stole their business opportunity out from under them. I come from a cutthroat city, where my father is the top dog. A place where backstabbing is normal, and everyday kindness doesn’t even happen every year, let alone every day.
This is overwhelming. I grip the back of a chair to steady myself.
Benji’s blue eyes search mine as he sets the platter down on my brand-new dining room table. I point to a chair, and we each grab a burger. As I take a bite, I study the mountain of a man in front of me. He feels my gaze and lifts his eyes up to me, jerking his chin at the platter.
“Two of those burgers are for me, by the way. If you want another one, you can go grab it yourself.”
I hide a grin. “I guess chivalry only extends so far.”
“You’re, what, like a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet? I figured one burger would be enough.”
“I’m five-foot-nine. I’m heavier than I look. Just because you’re a behemoth doesn’t mean—”
“A behemoth!” He chomps down on his burger.
I grin. “Don’t food shame me. I like to eat.”
He shrugs, a big boulder of a shoulder stretching against his top. “Either way, I only got you one. After that, you’re on your own. You can have the salad.”
“How generous,” I deadpan.
Benji’s lips tug and my stomach clenches. I like seeing him smile. It changes him from a scary, animosity-filled beast to something altogether different.
Softer. More approachable.
I hide my grin behind another bite, enjoying the lack of tension between us.
“Willow told me you were planning a party for Sarah,” I say.
Benji’s eyes flick to mine. He nods. “A surprise. Don’t tell her.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“You sound shocked.”
“Can you blame me?”
Benji chuckles. He chews his food, swallowing before he answers. “Sarah’s always loved big parties. She makes friends easily, but she’s always the one to organize events for others. Her wedding was the last time she had her own party, and that was four years ago. I figured it was the least I could do.”
I nod, staring at the big man in front of me. Here, when we strip away the hatred between us, he seems gentle and kind and good.
I like it more than I should.
When we finish our food, Benji gets up and wipes his hands on his jeans. Everything he does is unaffected. Unpretentious. Real.
“Let’s get these beds built.” His eyes wander down to my mouth, and I instinctively bite my lower lip.
I swear I hear him groan, but it’s so soft I could be wrong. His eyes darken, his gaze shifting back to meet mine.
A spark jumps in my stomach, but Benji heads toward the bedrooms. I walk behind him, inhaling the air around him with an almost ravenous hunger.
If I could bottle up the feeling he gives
