~Ben~

I’m on a date with Savannah. A second date, if we want to get technical. Our first date last night was more fun than I anticipated. I knew that Van already knew how to cook, but I don’t, and I thought it would be something fun to do together.

She smiled all evening.

And now, the morning after, I’ve picked her up and we’re at her favorite breakfast spot before we each go to work.

“Thanks for getting up extra early to do this,” she says as she studies her menu.

“If I have to choose between you and sleep, you win every time, sugar.”

She smiles sweetly and returns to her menu. “You did well last night.”

I snort. “I almost killed us both with the knife.”

She wrinkles her nose and then busts up laughing. “You didn’t almost kill us. But I was worried that you might take off a finger for a second there.”

“I think it’s best if I stay out of the kitchen. I’m not saying that in a sexist way at all.”

She’s chuckling behind her hand.

“I think I’m destined to eat take out for the rest of my life,” I say.

“I’ll cook,” she says, waving me off. “Not because I’m a woman, but because I like to.”

The waitress arrives to take our order, and Van accidentally catches the water glass with her menu, pushing it forward and spilling all over the table and my lap.

“Oh my God,” she says, her eyes wide with fear. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the waitress and I say at the same time.

Van’s fingers have started to shake. “I am so stupid. I’m sorry, Ben.”

“Hey, it’s an accident.”

She’s shaking her head, not hearing me at all. The waitress quickly cleans up the water and ice cubes and passes me an extra napkin to wipe up most of the water on my pants.

“Hardly any of it fell on me,” I say. But Van is shaking, an anxiety attack moments away. I turn to the waitress. “Give us a minute.”

“Certainly,” she says and marches away. I reach over to take Van’s hand firmly in mine. “Savannah.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Look at my face, baby.”

Her eyes find mine. They’re full of tears and fear and every muscle in my body tightens in pure fury.

That fucker put this in her.

“Savannah, it’s okay.” My voice is calm, belying the blood rushing through me. I’d love the chance to have another go at that asshole. “Do you hear me?”

She nods, watching me with wide hazel eyes. Her hand is clinging to mine for dear life.

“Listen to my voice.”

“I like your voice,” she whispers.

“I like your voice too.” I smile gently and pull her hand up to my lips, kissing her gently. “You didn’t do any harm. It’s cleaned up, and it barely got me.”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Take a deep breath.”

I keep her gaze locked on mine as I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. On the second one, she joins me. The trembling has stopped.

“See? You’re great.”

She bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, and then I watch in wonder as she physically makes herself calm down, most likely using whatever tool her therapist has given her.

Jesus, she’s strong.

“I’ve been told I have some PTSD.”

“That makes sense,” I reply and take my own advice, breathing in deeply. “Does it happen often?”

“Not anymore,” she says and takes a sip of the fresh water the waitress delivered. “It used to happen all the time, but now it’s sporadic. I never know what might trigger it.”

“I think that at some point, not today, but sometime soon, we should talk about the worst of it, so I know what may or may not upset you.”

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“Did I just say that?” I ask.

“No.”

“You’re not glass. You’re fucking badass, Van. But part of my job as your man is to protect you, and if you think I won’t do whatever I have to to keep this from happening again, you’re mistaken.”

She blows out one last burst of air and picks her menu up, signaling for the waitress.

“Okay, Captain America. You can protect me.”

“I think I’m better looking than Captain America.”

She narrows her eyes as if she’s studying me over the top of her menu. “I’d say it’s close.”

I cock a brow, but the waitress interrupts us.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Savannah says. Her voice is strong again, and she’s the confident, beautiful woman I’ve always known. “I want the sweet potato pecan waffles with a side of bacon.”

“And to drink?”

“Coffee is great.”

“And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same, but make mine a double side of bacon.”

She takes our menus and leaves, and my hand immediately finds Van’s again.

“I have to go to a gala tonight,” Van says with a wince. “I get shy at these things, but we’re celebrating the completion of the contract with Signet Shipping.”

“Lance’s company?” I ask with a frown.

“Well, it’s his family’s company, and he’s not a part of it anymore, but yes. We’re not renewing, given the circumstances, but it was a successful contract. It brought Bayou Enterprises a lot of money and exposure on the East Coast. It’s not a huge party, only a couple dozen people will be there, but I have to get dressed up. Will you come with me?”

“Do I have to get dressed up too?”

“God, I hope so,” she says with that sexy smile that makes my cock stand at attention. “You look hot in a tux.”

“Is that right?”

Van looks me up and down and a smug grin spreads over her face. “Oh yeah. Super hot.”

“Are you ready to let your family see us like this?”

“I’m a grown woman, and I’m not ashamed of you. They’re going to see us together sooner or later. Why wait?”

“Hey, I’m totally on board with that. I just want to go at your pace.”

“I’m comfortable here,” she says. “And I am excited to see you dressed up.”

“Likewise,” I reply. “You’re stunning in a formal gown.”

“I even bought a new one,” she says, winking at me. “I’ve decided it’s time to show off the girls.”

I choke on my water as Savannah smiles smugly.

“I’ll never complain about that.”

“Good.” She says and sits back as her food is placed in front of her. “You can pick me up at six.”

“Shouldn’t I take you to dinner first?”

“That’s why you’re picking me up at six,” she says and takes a bite of her bacon. Jesus, she’s gorgeous. The bad moment from a bit ago is over, and she’s now in full-on flirt mode.

My dick is already semi-hard, as if I’m seventeen and a girl just told me her parents are gone for the weekend.

But I’ll happily control myself until she’s ready. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

“That you’re sexy as hell.”

She blinks twice and then laughs. “Just wait until you see my new dress.”

“You’d be gorgeous in a burlap sack.”

“Back at you,” she mutters and pours syrup on her waffles. “Does it bother you to know that I’m just with you because you’re arm candy?”

She bites her lip, trying to keep a straight face. She’s teasing me.

“I can live with it if you can.”

“Oh, I’m living with it, handsome.”

She takes another bite of bacon and winks at me.

I’m in so much trouble.

***

“You’re stunning,” I whisper into Van’s ear for the third time this evening. She wasn’t lying when she said the new dress showed off her tits. Her cleavage is impressive, but the dress is still classy.

The shoes, sleek and black and boosting her up at least five inches, are sexy as fuck. I would love for her to wear them and nothing else, her legs wrapped around my shoulders.

And we’ll get there.

“I think you might be biased,” she says with a grin. She’s been sipping on the same glass of wine for the last hour. She clearly doesn’t want to get drunk in front of colleagues, and that’s just one more reason to respect her.

“Not at all,” I reply. She’s been holding onto my hand all evening. None of the family have commented, but there have been some knowing smiles thrown my way.

“Van?”

We twirl at the sound of a man’s voice, and I have to physically hold myself back from throwing a punch.

“Larry?” Van frowns. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I just flew in,” he says with a smile way too much like his twin brother’s. He leans in to kiss Van on the cheek and turns to me, holding his hand out for a shake. “Ben, right?”

Van elbows me, and I shake his hand, but keep eye contact with him.

“Well, I wish you’d let me know you were coming,” Van says. “I would have made time for lunch or something.”

“No need, it’s a quick trip,” he replies easily. I know that Van has said a few times that Larry is the opposite of his brother. But frankly, I don’t like him.

“I’m so happy that the contracts went so well,” Van says. “Eli took over that project for me, and I know you all worked hard on it.”

“We did, and it worked out great for all of us,” he says with a nod. “I won’t keep you. Have a good evening.” He touches her shoulder and then walks away and Van takes in a long, deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She nods and takes a drink of her wine. “I know that Larry is harmless, but it’s always a shock when I see him in person. He and Lance look so much alike.”

“I wanted to punch him just on principal.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “He’s not the bad guy.”

“Do you have a lot of contact with him?”

“No, not anymore.” She returns a wave to someone across the room. “He checked in quite a lot in the beginning, but now I only hear from him every couple of months or so. He’s a good guy.”

I simply nod and welcome the distraction of Beau as he approaches us.

“Hello,” he says, a smug smile on his face.

“Hi,” Van says and slips her hand back in mine. Beau winks at her, then turns to me.

“It’s about time.”

“It’s the right time,” I reply. “How late is this scheduled to go?”

“Just about another hour,” Beau replies. “People are already trickling out.”

“I know you don’t love these things,” Van says. “Thank you for bringing me. And for wearing the tux. It’s seriously hot.”

Beau cocks a brow. “I don’t think I need to be privy to this conversation.”

“I’ll take you anywhere,” I reply, ignoring Beau altogether. “I’m good for another hour.”

Over the next thirty minutes or so, Savannah is interrupted with words of thanks from the guests. She smiles, shakes hands, and is the perfect professional. I can see that she certainly has the respect and trust of her colleagues.

She’s pulled away for a conversation with a group of people, and I suddenly have to make a run for the restroom.

Jesus, I haven’t been this nauseated since I was a kid. I barely make it there in time to lose my dinner, lunch, and probably what I ate last week, too.

“Fuck,” I mutter when I can catch my breath. I fumble for a towel to wipe my mouth and the sweat from my brow.

It doesn’t look like I’ll make it another half hour.

I spend another few minutes praying to the porcelain gods, convinced that I’m going to die, and then go in search of Van.

“Oh my God,” Mallory, Beau’s wife, says. “Ben? Are you okay?”

“Not feeling great,” I reply and scan the room, finding Van by the door. “I need to get out of here.”

“We’re on it. Beau!” She waves Beau down and the two of them work to get Van and me out of here. Beau calls down to have the valet ready with my car.

“You’re going to have to drive,” I say to Van, who only continues to frown and watch me carefully.

“Of course I’m driving,” she says. “Can you make it down to the car?”

I start to nod, and then have to make a run for the bathroom. I don’t even give a shit that it’s the women’s bathroom. The only thing that matters is that it’s the closest one.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Beau asks behind me.

“No.”

“The flu is going around,” he says and I shake my head. “Just get me home where I can die in peace.”

“You can’t do that.” That’s Van’s voice now. “We finally got to the good stuff, so you can’t die yet.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I whisper.

“Should I ride with you two?” Beau asks.

“Maybe,” Van says, uncertainty heavy in her voice. “If he needs help up to his bedroom, I won’t be able to assist much.”

“Good point.”

“No,” I say in between heaves. “We can do this.”

I hold my hand out and someone puts a cold, wet cloth in it. I wash my face again and stand up. “Let’s go.”

“I’m helping you out to the car, and if I think you need it, I’ll go home with you too.”

“I don’t care,” I reply honestly. I feel like I’m dying. That my insides are cramped so tightly, my body is trying to shove everything out of my mouth.

And, it’s succeeding.

Fucker.

“Have you been around anyone who had the flu?” Van asks. She’s rubbing circles on my back, and it bounces back and forth between feeling like heaven and the most annoying thing ever.

“I work with hundreds of strangers every week,” I remind her. “Probably.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says as the elevator doors open and the valet has indeed pulled my car to the curb. Van and Beau help me into the passenger seat.

“Here! Take this,” Mallory says, handing me an empty ice bucket. I didn’t even know she was with us.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Beau asks.

“We’ll be fine,” I reply. “I can walk up the stairs to the bedroom. And if I can’t, I have a guest suite downstairs that will do fine.”

He nods and looks at Van, who’s just climbed in the driver’s side and is adjusting the seat. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” she promises and starts the car.

“It feels weird to have someone else drive my car.”

She reaches over and pats my leg. “I’m so sorry this is happening. You look miserable.”

“I feel miserable.” I can feel my stomach muscles begin to contract, so I push the button to roll the window down. The cool air feels good on my face. “I feel drunk.”

“And you didn’t even get to have the fun part to get there,” she says. Her voice is throaty and smooth, and it soothes the rough edges of this hell.

It feels like it’s taking forever, and the cool air isn’t doing the trick anymore.

“Pull over.”

“We’re—”

“Pull the fuck over.”

She complies, and she isn’t even at a full stop when I open the door and practically roll out of the car to the curb and hurl some more.

Jesus, how do I still have anything in me?

Suddenly, Van is behind me, pulling the tux jacket off. That feels much better. I’m hot and having the chills, all at the same time.

Finally, I dump myself back in the car and Van drives us to my place. I’ll feel like an ass tomorrow, but I can’t wait for her. I have to hurry or I won’t make it.

I run up the stairs to my bedroom, stripping out of my clothes along the way, and head right for the master bathroom.

“I’m behind you!” she calls out. I can’t reply, I can only kneel on the cold tile, in my underwear, and heave into the toilet.

What the fuck do I have?

Finally, I just collapse on the floor, shivering, but loving the way the cold floor feels against my hot skin. It feels too tight, too hot.

I’m sweating like crazy.

“In the shower,” Van instructs and helps me into the standing shower. I’m upright, leaning on both hands against the tile. She turns on the water and I don’t even flinch at the burst of cold water.

“Too hot,” I say when it starts to warm up.

“I don’t want to give you hypothermia.”

“Please, it’s too hot.”

She complies, turning it to the coldest setting, and I can finally feel my stomach and organs begin to relax. I think the worst of the throwing up is finally over.

“Worst hour of my life,” I mutter.

“It’s only been thirty minutes,” she informs me. “If you’re not feeling any better, I’m calling an ambulance.”

“I am,” I say and reach blindly to hold her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re an angel.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

I glance over at her and frown. She’s sopping wet in her sexy new dress. Her feet are bare.

“I ruined your dress.”

“It’s just a dress,” she says soothingly.

“How are the shoes?”

“They’re fine. I took them off when you made me pull over.”

“Good. I like them.”

She kisses my bicep. “I’m not leaving you tonight.”

“Good. I don’t want you to. You’re safe from my sexual advances tonight.”

She smirks. “I don’t think I’m ever in danger with you.”

“I’m too weak to argue.”

“You stand here. I’m going to go pull your covers back and get you something cold to drink. Oh, and fresh clothes.”

“I’ll sleep naked,” I reply. “I’m so fucking hot.”

“The water is ice cold.”

“Must be one hell of a temperature.”

“I need a thermometer,” she mutters.

“I have one in the medicine cabinet.”

“Great. Wait here for me, and I’ll help you to bed.”

She leaves, and about ten seconds later, I turn off the water and dry off, peeling out of my wet underwear.

I’m not going to make her help me to the bed. I’m not a fucking invalid.

I grab a fresh pair of underwear, deciding not to give her the shock of her life tonight, and climb under the covers.

“So, you’re not great at taking direction,” she says as she comes into the room.

“Nope.”

“So noted,” she says and sticks the thermometer in my ear. “Jesus, Ben.”

That’s what I want her to say when I’m inside her.

“You have a fever.”

“That I knew, sugar.”

She grins down at me, and I swear to God, she’s a fucking angel. An angel that I don’t deserve, but I’m so damn grateful for.

“But it’s not going to kill you.”

“Feels like it.”

“I know.” She kisses my forehead and then places a cold towel over it and I want to just ask her to marry me. “Go to sleep, Ben. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I want you to be here every time I wake up.