Page 41 of The Hang Up

He rolled his neck. “Ben suspects something.”

I turned toward him, trying to pull my hand away, but he didn’t let go. “Joshua—”

“It’s fine. He doesn’t know anything. He just thinks I’m a perverted old man with a crush.”

“He said that?”

“Apparently, I was giving you gooey eyes during the football game.” He was staring straight ahead, so he missed the shocked look on my face.

“And how did you respond?”

“I didn’t.”

“Confirming his suspicions. Great.”

“Can we freak out later? This is our weekend—”

“Seriously? You could have told him anything—don’t shake your head, Joshua—anything would have been better than nothing.” I pushed back the fear that I was destroying everything. I tried to keep my voice calm. “You could have mentioned we used to play football together. Or you were happy to see Angel healthy and doing something she loved.”

“That—he—you weren’t there.” He shook his head and pulled his hand away.

“What?” Was there more?

“Ben won’t say anything.”

“You can’t know that—” I jerked around to stare out the window, chewing on my lip to keep from screaming. One weekend. Was that too much to ask?

Anytime I looked over at Joshua, he was watching me. At least traffic at six in the morning on a Saturday was minimal. “Are you okay?”

Unlike Sean, I usually faced things head-on. Well, maybe not my crush on Joshua, but that had been my problem. No one else’s. Not that I could’ve done anything without confirming Ben’s suspicions. I let out a breath and smiled. “Where are we going?”

He flashed me a grin. A real one with dimples, and my heart melted. God, this man. Gooey was the perfect word. “It’s a surprise.”

When we arrived at the small airstrip, I stared at the plane and then Joshua. “You have a private jet? What am I thinking? Of course you do.”

Joshua jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Ugh. I finally, finally had what I’d dreamed about for years. A chance to spend time with Joshua—kiss him, touch him—and I was screwing it up. He opened my door, stopping my self-recriminations, and held out a hand for me. His face pinched in anger as I followed him to the back of the car.

He started to grab our bags from the trunk, and I put my hand on his chest. “Wait, Joshua. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve been through this,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m not apologizing for my wealth. I’ve been hungry. I’ve been poor—”

I kissed him. Belatedly, I realized people could be around. Were around. I started to pull back, but he grabbed the back of my head and deepened the kiss. It was…devouring. As if he was staking his claim.You’re mine, sweetheart. No matter what happens.When he pulled back, I said, “I’m sorry. I was surprised. That’s all.”

The next kiss was gentle and sweet, with promises of more to come. “I want to forget all that. Everything else. This weekend is about you—”

“Us,” I said, running my fingers over his beard.

He smiled. And damn, I loved that smile. “Us. So no talking about family or work. Deal?”

“Can Mitch go a weekend without you?”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure his boyfriend is grateful. And he has Bagheera to keep him company.” He took my hand and squeezed. “I’ve been checking out properties for the nonprofit, and the real estate agent is supposed to get back to me on several possibilities—”

“It’s the weekend,” I said, whining a little.

“—but,” he said over me, “I’ve instructed Mitch to handle it. I’m not making the same mistakes over again, Brock.”

“Oh.”

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