What I Should’ve Said
Chapter 26

Norah

Of all the ways to start today off, being the leader of a flock of sheep in the middle of Bennett’s yard wasn’t one of the options I mulled over. A clear-the-air chat, a just-act-like-nothing-happened avoidance, those were more on par with what I’d pictured.

But this? Yeah. Epitome of awkward. And now that I’ve been spotted, keeping this very embarrassing moment a secret is no longer an option.

Bennett crosses his arms over his chest and leans into the post at the front of his porch. His eyes are locked on me and my flock, and bells and baaas sound at my back as I approach him. He’s silent, as expected, but his face says more than enough for a full-blown rebuttal to trigger in my head and shoot off my mouth in a ramble.

“So, weird story, but I started this morning on a run slash walk, thinking I could get back on track in the area of physical fitness, and now I’m kind of, like, the head of this herd of sheep. Josie says they’re Tad’s because they have orange paint on them, so I’ve been trying to get them to go home. I heard he lives next to you, so, well, here I am with a herd of sheep in your yard.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I take a deep breath and continue.

“I know things are a little weird between us because of Friday, and I know this is inconvenient and I’m undoubtedly going to be late for work now, but I’ve tried cajoling them, complimenting them, and insulting them for going on an hour now, and none of it has seemed to help get rid of them.”

“That’s because they’re sheep.”

“Right. Well, that pretty much leaves me with walking them the rest of the way to Tad’s, so that maybe when they see him, they’ll get over me.”

At the mention of Tad’s name, his lips turn down in an almost-frown—a state in which I’m completely used to seeing his handsome face. I don’t know what he has against the sheep farmer, but I do know that this is our MO. I mean, I’m almost always annoying or disappointing him.

Though, I am surprised when he simply responds with, “I’ll take the sheep to Tad’s.”

I don’t know what I expected, but I take it as a good sign. He hasn’t said the word fired once. Maybe things won’t be weird between us. Maybe we’re both just going to forget Friday night even happened.

“Really? You’ll take the sheep to Tad’s?”

“Really,” he affirms, shoving away from the post and coming down the steps toward me. “Summer’s so excited to see you, she’s already in the studio. I wasn’t quite ready, but she made Charlie go ahead with her so she’d be there when you got there.”

My chest warms so much it almost feels fuzzy. I haven’t known Bennett’s daughter long, but her spirit is the kind that infects you immediately. Her positivity, her radiance, her eagerness to learn about anything she can—it all defies the body she’s been given like space defies gravity. She might only be a seven-year-old little girl, but there’s something special about her. It’s like she’s wise beyond her years. It pains me to think that her daily battle with her disease has made her grow up faster than any little girl should.

And the thought of her waiting for me to arrive in the studio trumps any and all vague notions I had about running home and taking a shower. I refuse to make her wait anymore.

“Okay. If you think you guys can bear the smell of sheep on me all day, I’ll go ahead and head to the studio now and save my shower for after work.”

Bennett’s face contorts again, and then he jerks his chin back toward the house. “You can shower here if you want. Won’t have any of your girlie shit, but at least you won’t smell like livestock all day.”

Take a shower in Bennett Bishop’s bathroom? As in, I’ll be naked in his house?

A shiver passes over my whole body at the thought. Still, with one secret sniff to the collar of my sweat-drenched T-shirt, it quickly becomes a viable option.

“I don’t have any clothes or anything.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you can replace a shirt and some sweats in my closet.”

Now he wants me to wear his clothes?!

Clearly tiring of me, he sighs and walks down from the porch with a directness I’m not ready for, stopping right in front of me. I have to look up to meet his eyes. “Take a shower or not, okay? Neither will bother me. Just make a decision before snow covers the ground, would you?”

Without another word, he grabs one of the big sheep by the fluff on its neck, making it baaaa in a way that gets the rest of their attention. As Bennett turns toward Tad’s, so do the sheep, and just like that, he’s off with the flock, leaving me in their wake.

Funny how they were so attached, and all it took was one strong hand from the scary macho man to change their minds.

“Can’t say I blame you,” I mutter in the direction of the sheep. For as much bad blood as Bennett and I have had, I’m still pretty sure I would crumble at the first sign of sexy manhandling. I have two unexpected but all-consuming kisses to thank for that.

He is your boss, you know.

I sigh. Maybe a shower is a good idea, and maybe I should make it a cold one.

I scramble toward the front door and open it carefully, calling inside for extra people I don’t know about or, I don’t know, monsters or something. “Hello?”

No one answers, which is good since Bennett is gone and Summer and Charlie are already in the studio. I’ve had just about as many Bennett-related surprises as I can take for a while.

It’s weird being in his house alone when I’ve never really been inside it before. Sure, the day I demanded this job and met Summer, I breached the front door and found my way into the hallway, but there’s so much more beyond that I couldn’t possibly have imagined.

I see tons of pictures of Bennett and Summer throughout the years. Some of them feature other familiar faces from town and some of just the two of them, but in almost all, Bennett showcases a huge and handsome smile. He looks more carefree—not entirely, of course, he is a grump after all. But there’s a happiness behind his eyes that you can’t miss.

That little girl is his everything, Clay’s words ring out in my head.

I choose not to dally too long on the photos and tiptoe across the rug in the living room, heading down the back hallway. I look in open doors, searching for a bedroom that looks like it belongs to the protein lover, and I finally replace it at the very end.

It’s both clean and tidy, and almost impressively nondescript. There is no color, no touch of rugged bachelor, no personality whatsoever, just white walls, a black metal bedframe, and white linens.

As an almost interior designer, I think it’s as close to a blank canvas as I can imagine an artist having.

Especially him.

Since I started working for him last week, I’ve been studying all of his previous works rigorously. The internet is a vast source of knowledge, and what it’s taught me is very much at odds with Bennett’s bedroom. Artistically, he works conscientiously with color, mixing hues that are unexpected and oftentimes vibrant. I’m not surprised my wall painting made him consider hiring me, because while it wasn’t even in the same country of skill level he has, it was on point for the way he mixes colors.

Him having an all-white bedroom is just…weird.

Quickly, I move on from being judgmental and head for the attached bathroom. There’s still a little girl in the studio waiting for me, and I need to get my shit together.

I close the door and lock it, and then turn on the shower to let it heat up while I strip down. The air feels eerily chilly on my bare skin, and I know without having to think too hard that it’s more because of the owner of this bathroom than the temperature. To be honest, I’m still kind of sweating.

The spray feels good when I climb under it and close the glass door behind me. I wet my whole body down and soak my hair before grabbing the first product I replace to start the process of cleansing the aura of sweat and sheep.

It’s a 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, and I am objectively horrified at the level of unbothered men can get away with. Still, I lather it up and put it in my hair before using the remainder to soap up my body.

Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t take long before I’m overwhelmed by the scent of Bennett.

I try to ignore it as I scrub, but this annoying, arousing ache starts in the lowest part of my belly. And the more I inhale through my nose, the more I’m reminded that I’m naked in Bennett’s shower. That I’m scrubbing myself with his soap. And that three nights ago, while he was kissing me, I came undeniably close to experiencing an orgasm at his hands.

My fingers linger a little on my clit.

Come on, Norah. Move it along.

Okay, but really, what would it hurt? It’s not like it’s going to take a while—I haven’t come in I don’t know how long. Thomas tried—or at least, made it seem like he did—but he could never hit the spot just right. Plus, it’d probably relieve a lot of the tension I’m feeling toward my new boss. And man, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Right?

Carefully, tentatively, I swirl my finger around my clit, swiping at it at the end of each circle. At first, I’m just considering it. Just testing. Just teasing. But it ultimately feels so good—too good—that my toes curl against the tile, and I have to steady myself with a hand to the wall.

Yeah, this isn’t going to take long at all.

Decorum out the fucking window while the scent of my boss’s cleansing trio fills my head, I touch myself until my spine feels like a single puff of air could snap it.

My mind loses itself in thoughts of Friday night. The way he kissed me. The way it felt to have his hands on my body. How hard his cock felt beneath his jeans.

Heat runs through my cheeks and my belly at once, the apex of my climax just a millimeter away. Spine bowed, I let my head fall back into the warm water as all the tension in my body releases in a crashing wave of pleasure. And the entire time, I can’t help but visualize Bennett’s body over mine, his cock inside me, and his finger at my clit instead of mine.

I have to cover my mouth with my free hand to stop myself from screaming. My body shakes and my heart races as I come down from the highest peak I’ve hit in years—maybe ever.

Oh man. Talk about crossing an intimate line. Not only have I been naked in my boss’s shower, but now, I’ve also made myself come. I don’t think he had this in mind when he offered to let me use it.

Holy hell, what have you done, you freak?

A rush of shame makes me hurry to finish, and I turn off the water without even considering doing a second wash on my hair. Sure, it’s my normal, but I doubt this kind of shampoo and conditioner is going to turn my hair into anything but straw anyway. Not to mention, it’s that very product that led me to Masturbation Lane.

I towel off and twist my wet hair into a ponytail before putting my underwear and bra back on and running into Bennett’s closet to grab something to wear. Typically, I’d be careful with my choice, but the embarrassment and need to vacate the premises as soon as possible really cut into my overthinking. I grab the first shirt and sweatpants I come to, throw them on and roll them up until they fit, and then flee the scene like I’ve just completed a heist.

By the time I make it to the studio, I’m nearly out of breath, and Summer and Bennett are there. Charlie is gone.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I blather dramatically as I jog in. “I’m sorry I took so long, but I’m getting to work right this minute. Social media, emails, website, phone calls—I’m ready to tackle it all!”

When I look up, I see I am unavoidably the center of attention—and not just because I’m late.

Bennett and Summer both stare at me with mouths agape, their focus on my borrowed clothes. I look down at what I’ve thrown on and freeze. “What…what am I wearing?”

Bennett, astonishingly, laughs. Whole body, face transforming, bent over at the waist, he looks like a movie star and a rock star and the king of an entire country. He is regal in his humor, and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve seen in at least a decade.

So much so, I almost don’t even hear him when he speaks. “That’d be my Halloween costume from two years ago.”

Summer giggles. “I wanted to be Anna, you know, from Frozen. Dad was Kristoff.”

“Hmm. I guess that explains why I look like a Norwegian boy.”

Bennett’s laugh has faded to a smile now, but I swear it’s just as good. Big and bright and so genuine, I would never have dreamed it possible.

Summer laughs again, but what starts out as endearing quickly turns into a cough. My eyebrows draw together in concern, and Bennett pauses for only the briefest of moments before jumping into action. I’ve never seen him move so fast as he runs to Summer’s stroller chair and flips it up to elevate her. She struggles to catch her breath, and a sharp cry of pain is the only thing that breaks the sound of her fighting for air.

I join them, panic roiling a nausea in my stomach I’ve never felt in my life. “What can I do?” I ask desperately, my chest seizing as Summer’s sweet face begins to turn blue.

“We have to take her out of the seat,” Bennett commands, undoing one side of the buckles with swiftness I’ve never seen such a large frame exhibit. “Just be careful,” he says in a quiet rush when I start undoing the padded straps on my side. “She has brittle bone. Even the slightest touch can cause fractures and breaks.”

My mind registers his words while my heart feels like it’s been put in a vise.

A simple touch can break this little girl’s bones? Oh my God.

Inside, I’m tortured. But on the outside, I will my fingers to work efficiently. I’ve just managed the last strap when Bennett swoops her into his arms with a gentleness I can’t even begin to describe.

“It’s okay, Sum,” I coach pitifully, hoping my words will bring her even an ounce of comfort as Bennett takes off at a run toward the house.

I follow frantically, churning my legs so hard to keep up that they burn like fire. One of his steps is two of mine, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to keep up with him. Somehow, I manage the speed I need, opening the door to his truck for him when he gets to it and climbing in beside Summer’s delicate body when he runs around to the other side. Carefully, I hold her close with as little pressure as I can manage and try to straighten her body enough to get some air into her lungs.

When Bennett climbs in, fires it up, and takes off, I ask a question with a calm I am in no way feeling. Truth be told, the word composed isn’t even on the same planet as me right now. “What’s happening, Bennett?”

His voice is soft and tortured as he responds. “I think her ribs are collapsing.”

I have to suck my lips into my mouth to fight off a sob, but I do it. I’m the very last person in this truck who needs to be breaking down.

Summer is fighting for her life—literally—and emotionally, I know Bennett is fighting with every ounce of strength for his.