“Fuhgeddaboudit!” He pinched his fingers together and gestured with his hand.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you also have that swarthy olive skin and dark hair.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice, “And then there’s that big Italian sausage—”
“Look!” Ben shouted, cutting me off. “Here’s Roscoe with our beers.”
I sat back on my bench seat, my face flushing with heat. Widening my eyes at Ben, I winced.
Judging by the grin on his face, he found the whole thing hilarious.
I wasn’t going to look Roscoe in the face again. Ever.
Roscoe, discreet as always, plopped my beer down in front of me and Ben and then hustled to the other end of the long table, sitting with the choking guy. I assumed. I didn’t really look up to verify for myself.
“So…” Ben’s low voice came across the table and drew my eyes without even trying. “You killed it up there tonight, baby. You were awesome. How’d you know all their moves? I thought you said you haven’t seen Monica perform before?”
“I haven’t and uh, the answer is kinda embarrassing.”
“Look at me.”
The tender note in Ben’s voice made my heart lurch. After a breath, I lifted my face and stared into Ben’s eyes.
He shook his head slightly. “There’s literally nothing you could tell me that should embarrass you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m serious.” His lips quirked like he was fighting a smile. “Unless of course you’re going to tell me that you have a Shawn Reyes poster on your bedroom wall. Then I’m out.”
My eyes widened, and I bit my lip. I might’ve had one in high school. I took it down years ago, but like hell would I admit as much now.
But Ben could read me like a book. He burst out laughing at whatever expression was on my face. “Seriously?” His sandwich landed on his cardboard boat with a plop before he bent to the side coughing and laughing. “Fuck me. I thought you had better taste than that.”
“Give me a break! I was in high school. And he’s cute.”
“Cute.” He shook his head. “The guy’s an ass.”
“You say that like you know for a fact.”
He lifted a shoulder and picked up his sandwich again.
Meanwhile I boggled. “Seriously? First Monica and now ShawnfreakingReyes? Who are you?”
More coughing came from the other end of the table followed by another glare from Ben and a muttered, “seriously?”
Finally, he shook his head and looked back at me. “I’m just a guy lucky enough to have caught you in a weak moment. And I’m not above exploiting it to my advantage.”
Then he sent me a heated look that had me clenching my thighs together and muffling a whimper. We were in public! And I was so wet again.
His expression turned cocky, like he knew what he’d just done to me. He was such a hot asshole.
I wanted to know where we were going to go from here. I mean, sure we had tomorrow—literally, because that was when the festival ended—but what happened next? Was this just a festival fling? Or did he want to see me again?
I cleared my throat and picked at my side salad. “You know I just realized I don’t even know where you’re based. Do you work in LA or New York? I mean, I’m assuming you’re not a local.”
“I, uh, you’re right; I’m not local. I guess you could say LA. I mean I have a place there. But I travel a lot…for work.”
I nodded. Suddenly my heart was feeling heavy. Even though he was based in LA, it didn’t sound like he was there a bunch. And if the offer with Monica worked out, I doubted I’d be in LA much, either.
So, this had to be a weekend fling.
