“What? No.” I shrugged. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

A noncommittal grunt emerged from his bearded face, and he turned and moved through the crowd, which quickly parted for him.

Curt is intimidating that way. He’s got intense facial hair, paired with over six feet of height and extensive tattoos creeping down his arms and up his neck. I’m pretty sure he’s only in his mid-thirties, yet somehow, he gives off the air of being much older. But, when you get past his brooding exterior, the guy is a sweetheart.

I made a note to ask him where he got his ink done, so I could see if Ben had heard of the place. I felt a wash of contentment, knowing that, if Ben ever got a chance to meet Curt, the two of them would actually have something to talk about.

I check my watch, happy to see the time is one fifty p.m.

When I woke up a couple of hours ago and saw Ben’s text, I made sure to check the bus schedule, so I could get here before he plugged in.

The doorbell ring has barely faded when the front door swings open, revealing a delicious view of a smiling Ben.

I mean, a normal, not-sexy view of my completely platonic friend Ben. I totally don’t admire how good he looks while barefoot with his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a red thermal that fits a bit loose on him. And it would be silly for me to step forward and wrap my arms around his waist in order to smell him. So, I don’t.

“You gonna stand outside all day?”

Shoot. I’m staring.

“Um … no. Just a bit longer.” I take a deep breath and peer up at the sky. Then, I focus back on an amused Ben. “Okay, I’m good.”

When I step past him, he shakes his head.

“I knew it.”

Crap. Did he realize I was ogling him? I’m such an obvious ogler.

Still, I try to keep the guilt out of my voice. “You knew what?”

He leans in close to my ear, brushing the scent of mint against my nose. “You’re weird.”

Ben leans back and grins at me, showing off a set of pearly whites. I’m like a Southern woman experiencing a fit of the vapors, needing to fan myself before the sight of his mischievous expression has me fainting.

“Holly! You’re here!” Mrs. Gerhard saves me, appearing at the top of the stairs.

She waves for us to follow her into the kitchen, and I chase after her, Ben’s presence a solid weight at my back. A laptop sits on the kitchen island where she must’ve been working before I arrived. Mrs. Gerhard grips my shoulders, and I get the sense it’s her version of a hug.

“Good to know Ben hasn’t scared you away yet.”

“I’m not sure Ben could be scary if he tried.”

I shoot him an exaggerated, disappointed look, and he returns with a mock scowl.