Ben’s arm brushed against mine.
I looked up and found him staring down at me.
He cocked his head then leaned down to talk/shout into my ear over the roar of the music and crowd. “You a fan of them?”
When he pulled back, I shook my head. I think my mom might’ve been a fan back in the day, but this wasn’t the music I listened to on repeat. Or ever.
A slow smile stretched across his mouth. Then he leaned down again. “You hungry?”
I nodded.
He nodded back, clutched my hand tighter, and then we were weaving through the crowds toward the parking lot inside the security barricade where dozens of food trucks lined the pavement.
I mourned the transition from sand to pavement as the heat off the asphalt was almost unbearable. But it didn’t seem to be bothering Ben, despite his long-sleeved t-shirt hoodie and hat. He looked as cool as ever.
“You know, they have better food in the VIP area,” Roscoe pointed out as he scanned the area for threats and fangirls. A trickle of sweat streamed down his temple. “And misters with fans too.”
My heart twisted with guilt. They were only out here in the heat because of me. I didn’t want to keep the guys from the comforts they’d paid a lot of money for. “You guys don’t have to—”
“It’s not that big a deal,” Ben cut in. “I’ve been meaning to try some fish tacos while we’re here. What’s Oregon known for if not fish?”
“Craft beer and Tillamook cheese?” I replied with a smile.
“Christ, you’re the perfect woman. Is it too soon to say I love you?”
I ducked my head as my smile grew way too big.
Ben let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. Then I felt something press against the side of my hair, and I melted into his embrace.
Gah, he even smelled good while sweaty. All spicy and manly and just uniquely him. It was intoxicating.
So, I let him lead me to a food truck that promised seafood tacos. It would’ve been faster if we split up and I got drinks while he got food, but he didn’t want to let me go, and Roscoe wouldn’t leave Ben.
Twenty minutes later, we were noshing on Dungeness crab tacos while waiting in line at the beer tent.
“I’ve never had asparagus in a taco before, but this is epic.” Ben swiped at the sauce trickling down his chin.
I was too busy watching him eat to even try it for myself. He had this effervescence that was intoxicating. Like this whole experience was something he’d never done before.
“Or nuts,” Roscoe tossed out. “But this is addictive. Good call, Emma.”
“You going to eat any, Em?” Ben asked after a few minutes, and once his plate was empty. “You feeling all right?”
I shook my head slightly. “Yeah, no. I’m fine.” I picked up my taco and took a big bite of the fried crab taco in my hands. The guys were right. The asparagus and nutty salsa were amazing. Though hard to eat. I bobbled my plate and taco in my hands and tried not to drop both. “Whoops.”
“Gotcha.” Ben swooped in and saved my plate while Roscoe took a step forward in the line. Ben guided me to the side of the line and out of the way of everyone waiting impatiently for beer. “Maybe it’s a two-hand job for you—since your hands are so small.”
My eyes bulged. Did he just say… I coughed then gagged as the food fought to go down my windpipe and my body rebelled. I coughed again, and Ben thumped a hand against my back, trying to help me.
After a minute, I straightened and wiped at my teary eyes. “Really?”
“What?” He frowned.
I shook my head at him. “Two-hand job? I literally just met you.”
“Oh fuck.” Ben laughed and shook his head. “Guess I’ve gotta watch what I say around you.”
I bit my lip as I looked at this ridiculously attractive man in front of me who’d just paid out the nose for crab tacos for us because I’d mentioned missing my dad’s version. “Maybe you don’t.”
