Page 23 of Bene

He’d never seen someone like her walk through the doors.

And damn …

That was a shame.

“Are you here with—”

“Me,” Bene spoke up before he could really think it through, making the woman glance up from the drink in front of her, and then over at him. “She’s here with me.”

The guy beside her—Mr. Fucking Suit—narrowed his gaze at Bene. “Sorry, but weren’t you here before me?”

The woman, to her benefit, kept staring at Bene, never dropping his gaze even as he lied for her again so that she wouldn’t be bothered further by the asshole to her right. “People can’t meet up for a drink, or do they always need to come together?”

“Well—”

“I’m here with him.”

God.

Yeah.

Her voice.

Before, she sounded bored and just fucking over it. As though she regretted sitting down, and one more word from the asshole beside her was going to send her straight over the edge. Now, though, staring at Bene while her soft pink lips curved in a sensual smile … her voice came out musical, and intriguing.

Just a hint of air.

Curiosity.

He smirked and pointed at her mostly empty glass. “Another one of those?”

Mr. Fucking Suit had just enough decency to roll his eyes and stand from the stool before tossing a few bills to the bar. He made himself scarce, and neither Bene, nor the woman, watched him leave, either.

“Depends,” she returned.

Bene grinned. “On what?”

“Are you going to finish yours? I can’t imagine drinking with someone who doesn’t seem very interested in being good company. And you’ve been staring at that drink of yours for at least an hour now, right?”

Damn.

How long had she been beside him?

Watching him?

On another evening, that might have bothered him. Right then, he found it interesting, and her … even more so because of it. Still, he glanced down at his drink, considering her offer.

“I really shouldn’t,” he said, “because lately, this shit has caused me nothing but problems.”

“Ah.”

He shrugged and watched a new highlight reel play through on the television. “I don’t need to let it become a bigger problem, that’s all.”

What was he doing?

Why was he spilling his guts to some random woman? At a bar?

She didn’t seem to mind. “The joy of adulting. I used to think turning twenty-one would be the best thing ever, and really …”