10. Benny

CHAPTER TEN

benny

Oh, that’s it. I’m never drinking again. Not ever. I try to sit up but fail and land back down on my pillow with a deep groan.

I can’t believe I did that. I never drink. I might have a beer here and there, but not like that. I reach up and rest my forearm over my eyes, blocking out the sun because it’s just too bright this morning.

I know why I drank so much last night.

It may have been stupid, but I thought it had to be better than watching Bianca Pearson all over my man.

My man.

I snort at that, making my head pulse with pain. But seriously? Mine? He’s not mine. He made that pretty clear last night. He can’t even admit he wants to kiss me.

I can feel it though. He wants it, but he won’t let himself have it, and that’s the most frustrating thing I’ve ever experienced. It would be one thing if he didn’t want me, but he doesn’t want to want me, and it’s a punch to the gut.

I hate that I let it get to me.

I finally pull myself up on the bed and stumble to the bathroom to take care of my morning business before making my way down the hall. I can smell something delicious cooking, but my stomach is revolting.

My head is still throbbing as I walk into the kitchen and see both my parents smiling obnoxiously at me. “Oh God, what?”

My mom is standing by the stove and points her wooden spoon in my direction. “Rowan Kincaid?”

I almost forgot he was the one to bring me home last night. As if I could forget leaning against his strong shoulder and breathing him in. I hated that I could smell Bianca’s perfume on his skin over his normal sexy scent.

I flop down in a chair across from my dad with a groan. “It’s no big deal. His job is to protect the quarterback.”

My dad grins, taking a drink of his coffee. “Pretty sure that’s just out on the field, son.”

I wave him off, and he gets up, walks over to the coffee pot, and pours a mug full that he then places in front of me. I wrinkle my nose, never really liking coffee. He grabs a cup full of water and places it next to the cup of coffee. “Drink up. Both will help.”

I grimace when I listen to him and take a sip of the coffee, but I do my best to choke some down. My dad looks far too amused as he sits back down across the table from me. “Should we ask?”

I bite on my bottom lip, knowing he means should they ask about why I got so drunk last night, but also knowing my parents well enough to know they’ll drop it if I ask them to. “Just celebrated a little too hard.”

It’s a nonanswer, but he seems fairly satisfied with it. “Don’t let it become a thing. I took care of your chores this morning, but you aren’t off the hook for this evening.”

I nod at that, hating that I missed my chores. “I’m sorry, Dad. I won’t let it happen again.”

He grins at that and pats my shoulder. “It’s okay to be a kid, you know?”

My parents are pretty cool. There’s no getting around it. I know I’m lucky with the parents I ended up with. “So, I’m not grounded?”

He laughs, and I take a drink of water just as my mom plops down an overflowing plate of biscuits and gravy in front of me. It’s usually my favorite, but I gag, nearly losing the contents of my stomach, right then and there, but I manage to quell it in time.

“No punishment needed. Hangovers are the worst,” my mom says, totally satisfied as she takes a seat while my dad gets up to make them both a plate. He seems to agree with her, and since I’m pretty sure I’ve turned green, point taken. I shouldn’t have had that much alcohol. Especially because of a guy who won’t ever pull his head out of his ass long enough to admit he likes me.

Hell, he also kind of hates me.

What is wrong with me?

By evening, I’m feeling a lot better and decide to take a walk after doing late afternoon chores. I decided to get an early start on them and plan to come out after dinner to close up all the animals and clean up a little bit to make up for messing up this morning.

But I’m kind of on a mission.

I see Rowan before he sees me. I round the shrubs at the end of his driveway and see him working on his truck, the hood popped. “Finally getting it fixed, Kincaid?”

My voice is a little louder than normal as I approach, and he jumps, hitting his head on the hood and letting out a sharp curse.

“Oops,” I say, cringing a little as I stop a foot away from him, his death glare directly on me as he rubs the top of his head. “Sorry about that.”

He goes back to working on his truck, but I notice his body is stiff. “What are you doing here, McBride?”

I lean against the truck, trying to play it cool. “Thought you might want to hang out.”

“No,” he says instantly, and of course that’s what I expected, but it doesn’t make it any less disappointing.

“Why not?”

“Because we aren’t friends,” he says pointedly and then steps back a bit before slamming the hood down. I move out of the way just in time, but he didn’t seem all that concerned.

“Of course we are,” I say breezily as he walks over to the driver’s side and wrenches open the old rusty door.

“No. We aren’t. Go home.”

As if I’m going to let him off that easily. I hop into the passenger side just as he climbs behind the wheel.

“What the hell are you doing?” He looks horrified, and I stifle my laugh.

“Well, you could give me a ride home since, you know, I’ve given you several.”

He might actually murder me with the way he’s looking at me. But he just looks up at the house and then huffs as he starts up his truck—which starts immediately, so I’m assuming he’s put the new part on.

“Fine.” He looks back at the house nervously, and I wonder what that’s all about. I don’t see any vehicles parked there, so I’m assuming his dad isn’t even home. Why it matters, I’m not really sure.

He pulls out and makes the short drive to my house, parking in front. “You should come in for dinner. My mom is making fried chicken.”

“Benny...” Holy shit, I love the way he says my name. I can’t help but look at his lips as he says it, and I swear they twitch with amusement when he catches me looking. “Benny, stop that.”

My gaze snaps to his eyes, and I lick my suddenly dry lips. “What?”

“Staring at me like that,” he says in a huff. “We aren’t friends and not just because you’re a pain in my ass, but because we can’t be.”

“Why not?” I ask seriously. I have a lot of friends. I’m even friends with total assholes who aren’t friends with anyone. But Rowan always resists, and I don’t know why.

“It’s too hard,” he says, looking away from me and through his windshield.

There’s something almost sad in his gaze. I know he has things he doesn’t like to talk about. His mother, for one. I remember when our teacher told us why he was gone one day in grade school. His mother had died. It was a shock to all of us, not even knowing a parent could die when we were so young and innocent, let alone, it happening to us.

I can’t imagine how he felt.

But he got quieter after that. Sullen and angry.

“Just come in for dinner. It was my mom’s idea anyway. She wants to thank you for bringing my drunk butt home last night.”

I swear I see a small hint of a smile again as he turns to me. “I’m not doing the dishes.”

I grin, the smile so big it hurts my cheeks, but I don’t care because he’s agreeing. “Deal,” I say and hop out of the truck, happy as hell when he follows me inside the house.

My parents are both cordial and greet him before I set an extra place and Mom serves us up her famous fried chicken. During dinner, Dad talks mostly about football, while Mom asks about his plans for after school.

He’s polite in his answers but doesn’t seem too interested in talking about the future. Just says he’ll find work after graduation, probably in oil. I want to offer him a job here, but of course, I don’t do that.

Mom and Dad aren’t looking for farmhands, but the thought of him out on the oilrig makes me panic slightly. And I know that’s what Dallas and Colt do for a living, but I don’t love that for them either. It’s dangerous work.

After dinner, Mom starts to clear the table, but Rowan climbs to his feet and stops her. “I’ve got it.”

She smiles at him. “Well, thank you.”

“Thanks, son.” My dad says, handing his plate to Rowan and then exiting the kitchen with Mom. I busy myself with collecting dirty dishes and bringing them to the sink.

I fill the sink with water and soap and start to wash, but I’m shocked stupid when Rowan’s big body crowds in next to mine. He rinses and puts them on the drying rack without a word.

I want to tease him about how he said he didn’t want to do dishes but decide not to push it. After we finish the dishes, he thanks my parents for dinner again and then we walk out to the porch.

The sun is just starting to set, and the sky is a pretty mix of orange and pink. “Thank you for coming to dinner.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says begrudgingly and walks down the stairs toward his truck before looking over his shoulder at me. “But we still aren’t friends.”

I chuckle. “See you Monday, Kincaid.”

“Count on it, McBride,” he says with a sexy as hell smirk before he gets into his pickup and drives off. I go about doing my evening chores, my thoughts solely on Rowan Kincaid.

We may not be friends, but if I can help it, we’ll be so much more than that.