Ben Hoffman.
And just like that, my pulse isn’t fluttering anymore—it’s pounding.
Chapter Four
Ben
I step out from the kitchen and spot Kelly right away, her bright smile aimed at the woman sitting across from her. My gaze shifts, landing on the woman, and for a second, I forget what I was even walking over for.
She’s… striking. Long, dark hair pulled back so I can see the curve of her jaw, the smooth line of her neck. Her top is simple, neat, tucked into a pair of fitted slacks that make her look polished without trying too hard.
She doesn’t look at me right away, her gaze fixed somewhere on the table, like she’s running through a mental checklist. Even from a few steps away, I can see the nerves in the way her fingerstighten together in her lap, the way her shoulders stay just a little too straight.
Then, finally, her eyes lift to mine.
There’s a flicker. No. It’s more than that. Shock. Like she’s just been blindsided by something she wasn’t expecting to see.
It throws me for a second. I’ve seen plenty of reactions when I meet someone new—I meet new people every single day. I see the range, from friendly to guarded to flirty. But never this.
And I have no idea why.
The longer I stand there, the harder it is to ignore the rest of her. The way those slacks hug her legs, the soft curve of her hips, the delicate line of her collarbone disappearing beneath the collar of her blouse. My mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t—fast, uninvited, and entirely inappropriate for a potential tenant.
I drag my gaze back to her face, but it doesn’t help. Her lips are full, the kind that make a man wonder what they’d feel like against his own. And those eyes… God, those eyes.
They’re warm, like melting chocolate, holding my gaze. Like she’s taking me in at the same time that I’m sizing her up.
Her gaze stays locked on mine, and for a beat, neither of us moves. There’s a tension there that has nothing to do with leases or rental agreements. I’m used to reading people quickly,figuring out if they’re going to be easy to deal with or cause me a headache. But with her, I can’t pin it down.
I clamp down on the thought, hard, shoving it into a corner where it belongs. This is business. Just business.
Kelly’s voice cuts in, pulling me a half step back into the moment. “Ben, this is Paige.”
It takes half a second for the name to land, and when it does, it’s like a punch to the chest. Paige.
Paige Richards.
The recognition doesn’t come in one clean piece—it slams into me in jagged flashes. Jason’s kid sister. A few years younger, always hanging around the periphery back then. Big brown eyes, a quiet way of watching people.
I haven’t seen her in what—eight years?
Right after graduating college, Jason and I moved back here. She was at the grad party.
But once we moved in together, that was it.
Then she went off to college.
And now she’s back…
Now she’s sitting here in my pub, looking nothing like the girl I remember. This woman… she’s polished, confident-looking despite the nerves I spotted a minute ago, and she’s grown into herself in a way that stirs something in me—entirely unwelcome. My jaw tightens automatically.
Hell. Jason’s little sister.
What the hell am I doing, thinking of Jason’s kid sister like this?
I slide into one of the empty chairs, still trying to get my head straight. Paige’s name is bouncing around my skull like a loose bolt in a dryer. I manage a polite, neutral nod in her direction, but inside, I’m still trying to reconcile the girl I remember with the woman sitting across from me.
Kelly’s smiling between us like she’s just waiting for the pleasantries to start. “So, Paige, this is Ben Hoffman, the owner. Ben, Paige Richards.”
