Page 22 of No Kind Words

“Yes, to all of it. Especially the ’or something’. I can’t wait to find out what that is.” He straightens his face. The smile is gone, but his expression is still kind. “Ben, I told you I want it all with you. If this is how you want to start, I’m happy. When would you like to go out?”

“Are you free this evening?” I want to do this now. If I don’t, I’ll talk myself out of it again. I’m very good at telling myself he’ll get bored of me or he’ll realise that the torch he held burnt out years ago. At eighteen, he loved that I was the hot older guy. At thirty-three, he’s the hot one. I’m forty and pushing my luck for a chance with him.

“I am, and any or every night you want to spend with me.” He leans over Hope, his mouth tantalisingly close to mine. “Trust me, Ben, I want you.”

“I’m beginning to get the message.” I want to press my lips to his, but he pulls back, the tease. He knows exactly what game to play, and I’m annoyed and excited at the same time. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be ready.” As he walks me to the door, he places his hand against the small of my back, the warmth radiating through me. I press into it, and he reciprocates by pushing a little harder.

As we return to the reception, everyone turns their heads to look at us, making me aware of how close we are. Jethro’s low chuckle proves he not only knew this would happen but that he planned it.

“You’re going to get us talked about, Jethro Palmer,” I mock whisper, unable to contain my happiness.

“I’m banking on it, Benny-boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” I shake my head but grin like a fool.

Before I can get ready for Jethro, I’ve got a meeting with Amy back at home, purposely planned to take my mind off either excitement or rejection, depending on how my talk with Jethro would go.

As I offer her a management role at the café, her expression morphs from incredulity to delight. “I thought you were kidding, Benny. Are you sure? Do you think I can do it?”

“Amy, you’re more than capable of running the place. I’m not asking you to bake or do any cooking.” She’s baulked at the thought of it over the last year or more than she’s been with me.

“Phew. That would’ve been a deal-breaker.” Amy laughs, swiping her hand over her forehead.

“I’m going to need to be around for Hope, especially while she’s still recovering. Friends also told me I work too hard, and I’ve finally decided they’re right. Obviously, this position comes with an increase in responsibilities. Therefore, you’ll be salaried accordingly. I believe this is the going rate for a manager.” I hand her a piece of paper. “That will be your starting point. I know how popular the café is, so I’m happy to reassess as time goes on. Is that acceptable to you?”

“It sounds amazing. I know I’ve got lots to learn, but I really want to do this.” Amy’s virtually vibrating with excitement.

“I have every faith in you. We can start on the background duties tomorrow. You’re already more capable than you think you are.”

We talk for another five minutes and arrange a time to meet in the morning. When she leaves, I get ready. I made the brave decision to book a table at the bistro farther up the high street from the café. If Jethro had turned me down, I would’ve cancelled it.

As I pull up outside Jethro’s, nerves do a tango in my stomach. The lights in the kitchen and one above the front door are on. Should I wait in the car? It’s been so long since I went on a date I’ve forgotten the protocol. I should go to the door. Yes, that’s the right thing to do. I think. Is it? Yes.

The cold air swirls around me, and shivering, I jog up to the door. Before I get the chance to knock, it swings inward. Jethro stands tall and breathtakingly gorgeous. His hair looks stylishly messy, and he’s got jet-black studs in his ear. Again, I wonder what else he is hiding under the well-fitting clothes. “Hi,” I manage to say.

“Hi. Let me grab my keys, and I’ll be ready.” He steps back, leaving the door open for me to step inside. He collects his phone and keys, says something to his dog and gives her a pat, then returns to me. He leans in and hovers his mouth over the shell of my ear. I hold my breath. “I’m really looking forward to this.” Almost imperceptibly, he brushes his lips over my cheek. I nearly swoon.

As we walk back to my car, his hand is on my back again. Even through my coat, I feel the possessive pressure, and I like it. His confidence is the opposite of how he was all those years ago. The nervous way he spoke to me when he asked if we could meet up, the tentative kisses and touches that sent fireworks through both of us. He found the best places to meet without any eyes near us, the fear of his father always in the back of his mind. With all that behind him and the experiences he’s had since those secret rendezvous, I don’t think Jethro is going to hold anything back tonight. How am I going to stay level-headed?

Do I want to?

“Um, I made a reservation at the bistro. Is that okay? I haven’t eaten there for a while, but it still gets rave reviews, so it should be good. Would you have preferred somewhere else? There’s a great fish restaurant or a Chinese. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you. You haven’t gone vegetarian. Of course not. You had bacon at my house.”

Ben is rambling, likely because he’s nervous, and it’s adorable. I’m going to have to do something to calm him down. Something he’s not going to expect. I wait until he’s parked his car and we both get out, then approach him. I step so close he has to lean back against his car. As his eyes go as wide as saucers, I get even closer, bend my head, and run my nose up the edge of his.

“You need to relax, Ben. It’s only me.” My words are low and wash over his lips in a warm breath on this cold night. I press my lips to his, soft but firm. His are cold and smooth but not rigid or unwelcoming. I slide my hands from his shoulders to his neck, up to his jaw, my thumbs on his cheeks. The surprise comes when he parts his lips and tentatively touches my tongue with his.

A possessive growl grows in my throat as I sweep my tongue inside his mouth and deepen the kiss. He swallows down another of my moans. Ben slips his hands under my leather jacket, pressing his fingers into the cotton of my shirt. Goosebumps break out over my body. I shudder, relishing his touch. It’s like no one else has ever touched me. I’m right back to being eighteen and desperate for more of him.

The slam of a car door and laughter jolt us apart. The street light glows on Ben’s face, the wetness on his lips. The darkness in his dilated eyes highlights his beautiful face. “Let’s get some dinner.”

He nods and moves away from me, looking dazed. As we walk into the restaurant, I take his hand. This seems to bring him back to the real world, and he approaches the host, greeting him by name. I forget that there are many people who aren’t familiar to me. I expected the town to have been stuck in a time warp. That everything and everyone would be the same, apart from my parents. But I wouldn’t be here if they were.

Once we’re seated and alone, Ben scrutinises me, looking for what?

“Why did you do that?”

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