Page 56 of Love, Rekindled

“You’re making me blush,” I tell him as I tuck the hair behind my ear.

His finger touches my chin, pulling it toward him. “You shouldn’t hide, you’re too beautiful when you’re unguarded.”

My head starts to spin and I don’t know what to say. It’s crazy that I’m feeling this way. It must be that I’m tired. Or hungry. Or maybe I’m just going through some post left-at-the-altar type breakdown.

Ben smiles. “I’ve really missed you, Gretchen.”

“I really missed you, too.”

I mentally slap myself for saying that. Definitely some breakdown. Now I just need it to stop.

CHAPTER 6

Gretchen

“I can’t quit thinkingabout your list,” Ben tells me as he takes a huge bite of his sandwich.

Not back to this again. It’s been a week and each day he somehow brings up my stupid life plan that didn’t work out. “Let’s forget about my list.”

“Why?”

Because the list is clearly not happening. Because my life isn’t going to plan, unless the plan was to epically fail. Because everything on that list stemmed from me walking down the aisle that I never went down.Pick a reason.

Instead of admitting any of that, I just shrug. “No point.”

“I disagree.”

“You would because you’re a man.” A very big, hulky, sexy man who I’ve fallen asleep thinking of each night.

“You know what’s funny?” he asks but doesn’t give me the chance to answer. “That after all this time, it’s the same with us. No awkwardness. No weird silence issues, it’s just—normal.”

“Because you’re not normal,” I say with a smirk.

“No denying that.”

“You are different though. You’re a lot bigger and scarier.”

Ben leans in. “You don’t seem scared.”

Oh, I’m totally scared. Especially regarding the way my body reacts and the fact that I really want to know what his lips feel like against mine.

“You may be The Hulk, but I don’t think you’ll smash me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I fucking hate that call sign.”

Mark was all too happy to call him it a few times. I love the idea of call signs and that everyone eventually gets one in this crew. I thought we got to pick them, turns out that’s not the case.

They’re given.

And usually it’s because you’ve done something stupid that they plan to use against you—forever.

“I need the story,” I tell him as I pop a chip in my mouth.

“Not a fucking chance.”

“I’ll just ask Lee or Mark.”

Ben grumbles. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I busted a chair.”

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