Chapter 13 #6
“No,” I said honestly, eyes holding hers briefly before I looked back toward the road. “It doesn’t.”
Her thumb moved once against mine. Nervous. Sweet. Almost unconscious.
I turned my hand, catching her fingers more securely between mine.
The motion made her glance down and notice it for what it was. The minute she noticed it she blushed.
I wanted my mouth on that blush.
“So,” she said, clearly desperate to pull the conversation back into territory where she could breathe, “are you mentally prepared for today?”
“I brought a competitive attitude and an empty stomach.”
“Those are both dangerous here.”
“I’m adaptable.”
“You say that now, but Lyon plays street hockey like a man with outstanding warrants.”
“Good. I hate boring.”
“Ryker will pretend he’s too mature to take it seriously and then absolutely try to assassinate you with a slapshot.”
“I respect that.”
“Kellen cheats.”
I quirk my brows. “Oh, noted.”
“Knox will act like he’s supervising and then start the entire fight.”
“I knew I liked him.”
“You like chaos way too much for someone who looks that controlled.”
My mouth curved. “Maybe I like controlled chaos.”
Her eyes flicked to me, then away, and there it was again. The new awareness. The memory of my control slipping this morning. The memory of me between her legs, of the way she had grabbed my hair and stopped pretending she didn’t want anything from me.
I let the silence sit for half a second longer than necessary.
“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.
“Let it happen, Pip.”
“See!”
I laugh again. “See what, Pip?”
“You, making normal words sound dirty.”
“Maybe your mind’s dirty.”
“My mind was innocent before you.”
“That is the biggest lie you’ve told me yet.”
She gasped. “Excuse me?”
“Pip, you looked me dead in the eyes on FaceTime and asked to watch.”
Her cheeks went bright pink. “We are in a vehicle.”
“I’m aware.”
“Driving to my father’s house.”
“I’m also aware.”
“For a family barbecue.”
“Still tracking.”
“You cannot bring up FaceTime on the way to potato salad and children.”
“I can if your scent is still on my lips.”
“You’re a menace.”
“You like that too.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it, which I considered a win.
“Careful,” I said, letting my voice drop just enough to make her squirm. “You’re proving my point.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I should.”
“Probably.”
Her laugh came out breathless, and that sound went straight through me.
Fuck casual.
I didn’t say it. But I thought it so clearly it might as well have been carved into the dashboard.
Nothing about this woman was casual to me.
Not the way she stole my coffee. Not the way she talked about her mom.
Not the way she pretended wanting me was something she could put in a box and open only when convenient.
Not the way she looked at my hand over hers like maybe the touch scared her because it felt better than she expected.
I’d let her have the word “benefits.”
For now.
But every mile closer to her family, every laugh she gave me, every blush I dragged out of her, every soft truth she accidentally put in my hands made the word feel more ridiculous.
This wasn’t benefits. It was strategy. Access. A door she thought she controlled because she was the one who named it.
This was me learning exactly how to get under her skin until she stopped confusing fear with common sense.
And if that made me a bastard, fine.
I’d been called worse on the ice.
Pip shifted in her seat, still trying not to smile as she took another sip of my coffee. “This is really good, by the way.”
“My coffee?”
“Our coffee.”
I glanced at her. “Our coffee?”
“You said your wardrobe belongs to me now. I assumed beverages were the same.”
“You’re expanding the agreement.”
“I’m a woman. We adapt contracts as needed.”
“That’s not how contracts work.”
“That’s how mine work.”
I smiled, squeezing her hand once. “Greedy.”
“With coffee?” she asked, all wide eyes and fake innocence. “Yeah.”
My gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
Wrong move.
Because now I knew exactly how that mouth felt. Knew the shape of it under mine, the way she opened for me when she stopped fighting, the way she tasted like coffee and heat and stubbornness. Knew the sounds it made when she lost control.
I forced my eyes back to the road.
“You are incredibly distracting,” I said.
Her smile turned smug. “Good.”
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“The girl who pretends she doesn’t like making me lose my mind.”
Her smile faltered, not because she didn’t like the words, but because she did.
The air changed again. I kept my thumb moving over her hand, slow and deliberate, letting the silence do some of the work.
She looked out the windshield as the road curved toward her neighborhood, the scenery shifting from campus-adjacent streets to wider roads lined with old trees and houses set back on big lawns.
The closer we got, the more her energy changed.
Still happy. Still excited. But something tightened beneath it too.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her eyes cut to me. “You’re very nosy today.”
“You get quiet when you’re bracing for something.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
She huffed. “Maybe I’m internally prepping for round two with my family and you.”
“No, you’re preparing yourself.”
Her mouth pressed together.
Hit.
I didn’t push harder.
Not yet.
“Dempsey going to be there?” I asked, keeping my tone casual even though nothing about the question felt casual inside me.
Her fingers stiffened under mine, and there it was. The answer before the answer.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Lie? Maybe. Not completely. But not clean either. I nodded once, eyes on the road. “You don’t seem to like him much.”
Her laugh came too fast. “Luke’s fine.”
My hand tightened around hers before I could stop it.
Pip noticed, so I loosened my grip immediately, not because I was backing down, but because the reaction was mine to control. Not hers.
“Fine,” I repeated.
“He’s been around forever. Family friend. Small-town stuff.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“The judgy hum.”
“I didn’t judge.”
“You absolutely judged.”
“I don’t like him.”
The words came out clean. Flat. No dressing them up.
She looked at me quickly, alarm flickering in her face before she smoothed it away. “You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.”
“Oh really?”
I glanced at her then, and this time I let her see some of it. Not all. Not the full dark thing sitting in my chest every time I thought about him too close to her Jeep. Just enough.
“I know you don’t breathe right around him.”
Her face changed.
There.
The truth flashed before the lie could cover it. Then she looked away. “Cade.”
I backed off by half an inch, because that was the play with her. Not retreat. Not surrender. Just space enough for her to think she had won the moment.
“Okay,” I said.
She blinked, like she had expected more. Good, let her underestimate me there too.
The Range Rover rolled past a line of trees, and the first familiar trucks near the Bennett house came into view. The smell of smoke hit before we even reached the driveway, faint at first, then stronger through the vents.
Pip inhaled, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders despite herself. “Dad’s already burning something.”
“Smells like tradition.”
“It smells like dry ribs and denial.”
“I’m still excited.”
She looked over at me, and the softness came back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a second, she forgot to be scared. Forgot to sell me benefits. Forgot to keep one hand on the emotional emergency exit.
She just smiled at me. And fuck, that smile. That was the thing that would ruin me if I let it. Except I was starting to think ruin didn’t sound all that bad if she was the one doing it.
I pulled into the gravel driveway, killed the engine, and turned toward her before she could reach for the door. Her hand was still in mine.
“Pip.”
“What?”
I lifted our joined hands and brushed my mouth over her knuckles, not soft enough to be sweet, not dirty enough to be a threat, but close enough that her breath caught anyway.
“Your family gets the polite version today.”
Her eyes narrowed. “There’s a polite version?”
“Barely.”
“And what version did I get this morning?”
I smiled against her fingers. “That was just a preview.”
Her lips parted, and for one second I thought she might actually climb across the console and kiss me.
Then she snatched her hand back like I had burned her and pointed toward the house. “Out. Immediately. Before you get me disowned.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You exist provocatively.”
“That’s on you.”
“That is not on me.”
“You’re the one looking.”
She glared, cheeks flushed, mouth fighting a smile she was absolutely losing too.
I opened my door, grinning as I climbed out.
Behind me, she muttered, “Benefits. Physical. Controlled.”
I leaned down, looking back through the open door. “You giving yourself a pep talk?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Go carry something heavy and be quiet.”
I laughed, grabbed the foil pan from the back seat, and watched her step out into the sunlight with flushed cheeks, messy bun, and my coffee still in her hand.
Physical. Benefits. Controlled.
Sure, Pip.
Whatever helped her walk into that backyard.
I had all semester to prove her wrong.