Chapter 39
Mylie sipped a glass of wine while she watched Ben standing over the stove. He was cooking her dinner. He’d called her at
the warehouse, said he’d been craving lasagna, and told her to be at his house by seven p.m. She’d tried to tell him she didn’t
have time—it was too close to the tournament, but he hadn’t been able to take no for an answer. Finally, she’d relented, locking
up long after everyone else left and heading straight over to Ben’s.
The first thing she’d done when she got there was take a shower. She’d thought about going home first, but she saw Morris’s
truck in the driveway and decided against it. She’d never get out the door in time. After the shower, she’d rummaged through
Ben’s clothes and found an oversized T-shirt she could wear, then she sauntered back down the stairs wearing nothing else.
Ben had stopped, stared at her.
“That’s not fair,” he said.
Mylie looked down at herself and then back up at him, grinning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you know how hard it was for me not to go upstairs with you the second you said you were going to use my shower?” he asked.
“And now you come down here looking... like this... you’re torturing me.”
“It’s not too late to head back up,” Mylie replied.
Ben sighed, tearing his eyes away from her and concentrating on the stove. “Pour yourself a glass of wine.”
“It smells good,” she said to his back. God, his butt was cute in those jeans.
“It’ll be done in a few minutes,” Ben said, turning and making his way to the table. He sat down across from her. “How’s the
wine?”
“Very good,” Mylie said.
“Good,” Ben replied.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
Mylie shifted in her seat, her bare legs sticking slightly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Why?”
“You’re acting weird,” Mylie said. “Like, really weird.”
“Why?” Ben asked. “Because I want to cook you dinner?”
“Because you’re acting like you’re on Iron Chef ,” Mylie replied.
Ben poured himself a glass of wine and refilled Mylie’s glass. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”
“I don’t care,” Mylie said. She took a drink.
“Well, I do,” Ben said, getting up once again to check the oven.
“Okay,” Mylie replied. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I was just telling you that it wouldn’t matter if you burned the lasagna.
I just want to be here with you.”
Ben loosed a breath. “Do you want a salad?” he asked.
Mylie got up and went to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her. “Slow down,” she said.
“Mylie, we... I... need to talk...”
Mylie cut him off, standing on her tiptoes to reach his mouth. “Come on,” she whispered. “Just one kiss.”
“I’m trying to...” Ben trailed off as she brushed her mouth against his.
Ben kissed her back, ferociously. His hands reached down to cup her ass, riding up the already short T-shirt.
She knew it wasn’t fair, to tease him this way. To kiss him when he was trying to be so serious, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Can’t you just be patient?” he asked, brushing his lips against her neck.
“I’ve spent years being patient,” Mylie replied. “I’m tired of it.”
Ben groaned, pressing himself up against her.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he half-growled.
“Yes,” Mylie managed to say.
In one swift motion, Ben scooped her up and began to head toward the bedroom. Mylie shrieked in delight, nuzzling his neck.
She was impressed that he managed to carry her all the way up the stairs. He kicked the bedroom door open and laid her down
on the bed.
Mylie sat up on her elbows and watched him undress. First, his marinara sauce–covered shirt and then his pants. When he sprang
free before her, Mylie’s eyes widened, and Ben gave her a smirk of satisfaction before she pulled him down to her.
Ben’s hands grazed her thighs and felt their way up to her breasts, and when Mylie let out a soft groan, Ben replaced his
hands with his mouth.
Mylie began to writhe beneath him, and Ben huffed a laugh. He took his free hand and parted her legs, settling between them,
and Mylie lifted her hips to greet him.
“I want you,” she whispered.
That was all the invitation Ben needed.
Mylie left Ben’s house before the sun was up. There hadn’t been any conversation after going upstairs. They’d both been too ex hausted. Instead, Ben had gone downstairs to turn off the stove, and by the time he was back, Mylie was sound asleep. She attributed it to the great sex, yes, but the week before the tournament was always hectic, and this time it was no different. She’d gone home and showered, dressed, and was back out of the house before either Granny or Cassie woke up. She was glad for that. This week, she had to concentrate on the task at hand, and unfortunately, the task was the tournament and not Dr. Benjamin Lawrence.
The warehouse was dark and cool when she arrived, hours before anyone else would be there. It felt almost illegal to be there
so early. It reminded her of the first time she’d been there, years before, when it was an abandoned shoe factory.
The Realtor—Courtney, of course, fresh from her real estate courses—was excited to show Mylie something she “could afford.”
Mylie had been less than thrilled to see the place. For one, it had been too big. Although her fledgling lure business was
now too big for Granny’s house, too big for the bait and tackle truck, it certainly wasn’t big enough for this .
There had been wires hanging down, holes in the roofing, and the floor was an absolute mess of leftover parts. It was going
to take weeks, and lots of work, to clean the place up.
Mylie had stayed at the warehouse after Courtney left, promising to consider making an offer and to lock up afterward. She’d
sat down on the floor and looked around—at the abandoned husk—and wondered if she could make something of it. After all, it
was just about the only thing she could afford. All of the other available buildings were too expensive, and she hadn’t wanted
to rent, hadn’t wanted the added stress of a landlord to deal with.
It was then that she’d made a deal with the warehouse. She’d bring it back to life if it would agree to work with her—if it would become a space where she could grow her business. She knew how silly she probably sounded, speaking to a building as if it were a living, breathing entity with a soul, but for some reason, she felt like it was important to make this offering. After all, she knew what it was like to be abandoned, to feel like she was alone. Maybe if she loved this place, if she cared for it, then it would return that love in kind.
And it had.
Year after year, she and this building worked together. Grew the business, hired employees, and became the Hook, Line, & Sinker
everyone knew today. In fact, she’d often thought about living there, since it was really the only thing she owned herself.
Once Cassie graduated from high school, she considered using the loft upstairs that was reserved for overstock as an apartment.
When she’d told Jodi, she’d thought Mylie was nuts, but more and more, Mylie yearned for a place of her own. Or maybe it was
a life of her own. She couldn’t quite tell. Either way, she wanted to get Cassie through high school first. Granny had never
lived alone, but Mylie didn’t anticipate Granny having any issue with it. Not when she refused to ask Morris to stay over
while “the girls” lived with her. Maybe Granny wanted a life of her own as well. Although her grandmother rarely mentioned
the grandfather Mylie and Cassie had never known, Mylie knew that Granny still thought about him, still missed him. What would
it be like, Mylie wondered, to love someone that much?
She thought about Ben. He was hers. For now, at least. They hadn’t discussed what would happen when the house eventually sold. Selfishly, she hoped it took a while. They were both being selfish, she guessed. It was easier not to think about it, even if she secretly hoped there might be some way they could make this work. At the very least, Mylie wanted the summer, even if she knew at the end of it, he’d go back off to his life somewhere else. Maybe this time, they would keep in touch. Maybe they could work it out. She didn’t know.
It was too early for these thoughts, that was all she knew. Soon enough, this place would be buzzing with activity. The whole
town would be. In fact, as she’d driven through town this morning, there were already business owners, up early like her,
hanging banners and putting up signs, readying for the influx of people in the coming days.
It made her smile. This time of year, Mylie was in her element.
Let the games begin.