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Arching a brow at him, I said, “Next thing you know, you’ll be waking me up with cunnilingus.”
He coughed on the sip of coffee he’d just swallowed, then belted out a laugh when he could breathe properly.
“Oh, wait, you already did that.” I smiled, loving this side of him. The soft, sweet side. So different from the cocky charmer. Then I thought of the bottle in the medicine cabinet.
“What is it?” he asked, a frown pinching between his brow.
I wasn’t the kind to hide my thoughts and feelings. That was for damn sure. But I didn’t want to admit I’d invaded his privacy.
I ate another bite, and he waited, seeming to know something was up. When I set down my fork and wiped my mouth, I said, “I accidentally, but not really, found your scrip bottle in the bathroom.”
His expression fell, his mouth tightening into a line. He walked over to the kitchen sink and rinsed his cup.
Immediately, I was up and behind him, wrapping my hands around his waist. “Please don’t be mad.”
He grasped my hands and unclasped them from around his waist.
No, no, no.I didn’t want him to push me away. Not yet,not yet.
“I’m so sorry, Bennett. Look, it’s not a big deal. Lots of people take meds for anxiety disorders and depression and stuff. I’m sorry I snooped. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Rather than push me away like I was afraid he would, he turned and took both of my hands in his. But he didn’t look at me right away, staring down at our hands instead.
“I know it’s not a big deal. It’s just part of who I am. But I wish you hadn’t done that.”
The fun, flirty Bennett was long gone, and it was all my stupid fault. The tone of disappointment made me want to cry.
“Please, Bennett. I’m so sorry,” I said softly.
I bit my bottom lip, afraid I’d ruined this before it began. We were only a few hours past our first night together. I wanted it to last a little longer.
“I wasn’t going to hide this from you, Betty.” He finally met my eyes. “I just wasn’t prepared to share my demons with you just yet.”
“My friend Finn has had to take them for some past anxiety. Is it—” I paused, staring at our hands where he cupped mine gently—“is it something you struggle with a lot?”
My heart squeezed painfully for him.
“No. Only on occasion. I’m taking them now because the opening of the store has me stressed out.” He clenched his jaw as if to say more. I wasn’t going to push him.
“I’m sorry I was so nosy. In addition to my judginess, my curiosity is crippling apparently.”
He smiled, his hands coming up to cup my face. “I lo—” he cleared his throat, “like everything about you, Betty.”
“I like everything about you, too,” I said, wrapping my hands around his wrists, “except for the gluten-free area of your bakery.”
He laughed and shook his head.
“I mean, there’s just something very wrong about baked goods without gluten.”
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine. “You are something else, Betty Mouton.”
Relieved that he was smiling, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his chest.
He hugged me tighter against him. “The anxiety can get the best of me sometimes, but I’m handling it.”
“You definitely are. I’d never have known. You’re always so charming and perfect and….”
“Cocky?”
