Chapter 4

After Robin’s confession at his welcome party, I hadn’t expected to see him up close again. He’d looked miserable the moment the words came out, like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. And when I’d offered to drive him home, he’d refused.

He’d very clearly wanted to be left alone, and I respected that—even though it felt inherently wrong to leave when he looked as sad as he did.

I mean, sure, we were technically something family-adjacent. I knew he’d be there at Thanksgiving, and probably during Christmas too. We’d awkwardly pass by each other, maybe share a nod and smile—at Mama and her book club’s expense—but that would be it.

There would be no more games.

There would be no more flirting.

At least…that’s what I’d thought.

Until Robin showed up at my office two days later with a plastic femur in one hand, sunglasses on, and his cheeks pink from the cold.

My receptionist, Lynda, let him in, looking far too amused as Robin clomped his way through the open door to my office like a pint-sized goth avenger. He walked like he had a purpose, a purpose I found I was more than excited to be made privy to.

“You didn’t tell me the book club was hosted at the B&B,” he accused me, instead of a proper greeting. The door slid closed behind him with a click, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, suddenly oddly self-conscious of my space. It felt far too small with him in here. Too plain. What I’d once felt was a practical room, now felt bland.

“I didn’t know you were staying at the B&B,” I countered. Then, raising a brow, I glanced over his skin-tight black ensemble—and again, the too-thin floor-length black jacket—and back up to his face. “That wasn’t a very polite way to greet someone, Robin. Now, was it?”

Robin paused, femur in hand. He lowered the bone, his sunglasses slipping down his nose a little as his mouth closed with a quiet click. He seemed to agree because his eyes widened, and then softened. “I…guess not?”

“Would you like to try again?” I asked, not even sure what the fuck was coming out of my mouth right now, only that seeing him in my office was making me feel like the world as I’d known it was shattering apart.

Robin stared at me for a beat, like he was deciding whether or not he did. He ultimately seemed to come to the conclusion that he could’ve been more polite, however—probably the same Southern manners his brother seemed to possess coming to the surface—because he relaxed, pulled his sunglasses off, shoved them in his pocket, and beamed at me.

A big, sunny smile that lit up his whole face.

The smile made the dark circles under his eyes look even more out of place.

“Hi,” he said, grin turning sly as he glanced at the coffee mug on my desk, “Ben-nilla latte.”

It was close enough, so I ignored the ridiculous nickname and smiled right back. “Good morning, Robin.” I hardly recognized my voice, it was so warm. “Why do you have a femur in your hand?”

Robin stared down at the bone like he was surprised it was still there, and then he laughed. “Did you know the B&B is run by the cutest old lady in the world? Total fucking grouch. Wears a pinstripe suit every day and swears like a sailor.”

“Matilda Deed,” I hummed, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“She’s so cute, man.” Robin laughed, then flushed. “Is that rude to say? I hope not.”

“She is cute,” I agreed, heart fluttering like crazy as Robin crossed the distance between us and sat right on the corner of my desk like this was a totally normal and not at all invasive thing to do. I scooted my chair back to see him better, and he graciously offered me a turn with the femur. With a quirked brow, I shook my head, and Robin happily kept the bone to himself.

“Anyway—your mom was there. At the B&B. Because she and Matilda run the book club.”

“Right.”

“On Mondays.”

“Yes.”

“And she told me?—”

“Who? Matilda or my mother?”

“Your mom,” Robin grinned, eyes dancing. “Keep up, Benmantha. Really. It’s like you have the attention span of a goldfish.”

“Two nicknames within five minutes, really?”

“So you are paying attention!” Robin crowed in triumph, wiggling happily, his cute butt shifting my papers over. He didn’t even notice, which made my belly fill with even more butterflies despite the fact that he was mussing my desk. My hands felt sweaty, his close proximity lighting me up all over again.

I’d thought I’d made that up.

My reaction to him.

But I hadn’t.

“Of course I’m paying attention,” I countered, suddenly self-conscious of the slacks I’d chosen to wear to work today. I didn’t have any clients scheduled. Today was the day I reserved for admin, and aside from the occasional walk-in, it was usually quiet.

Not with Robin around though.

Why is he here? This was the last place I expected him to go after what he admitted to me.

“Anyway—” Robin began again. He had eyeliner on again today, just as smudgy as the makeup he’d been wearing on the plane. Smudgy? Was that the right word? I wasn’t sure. “Your mom told me that your kids were sick on Halloween.”

“Yes.” I had no idea what this had to do with the femur, but I couldn’t wait to find out.

“And that the B&B puts up a haunted house every year, and your kids love to go, but they couldn’t this year because they were sick.” Robin was thrumming with excited energy now, so I didn’t interrupt him because I could tell he had to get it all out. “So I asked her if we could set up the haunted house again! Matilda—not your mom. And she said that it was still up. But it’d just need, like…electricity and shit. I dunno. And I told her I’d handle it.”

Still hadn’t explained the femur, but I could be patient.

“So I went to check it out. Thing needs major repairs. Maybe some paint? Anyway, I accidentally knocked a skeleton over—” There we go. “But when I was fixing it, I couldn’t figure out which bones went where. So I figured I’d come over here and ask you.” He blinked. “Because you’re a doctor.”

I nodded.

“Therefore you probably know a lot about bones.” Robin blinked again, seemingly realizing too late what he’d just said. “Not that kinda bones.” His pale green eyes raked over my shoulders, down my chest, and to my crotch. “Though I bet you know about those too.”

My cheeks grew hot, my cock twitching as Robin’s lovely pink tongue flickered out to wet his lips.

To be completely honest, I had no idea what was going on right now.

I mean…I knew why he was here. He’d just explained his thought process. And his need for my expertise. But it felt, in a way, like I’d accidentally adopted him. Like he was a duckling that had imprinted, and was finding any excuse to come see me.

And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

You find it adorable, Ben. Don’t play coy.

“So,” Robin waited, though I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. “Are you coming?”

“Coming?”

“To the B&B! C’mon, keep up.” He waved the femur impatiently. “We gotta get the thing up and running so your kiddos can come.”

And that was when it clicked.

All of it.

His disjointed rambling. His evil plan. The fact that he’d marched over here on foot—luckily it was only a few blocks away—wearing nothing more than cotton just to enlist me. There was a manic glint in Robin’s eyes, exhaustion apparent all over his face.

He’s lonely.

“ Robin ,” I said gently, and he deflated immediately, wilting like a popped balloon.

“You’re too busy?” He frowned, biting his lip. When he twisted his head to the side, no longer looking in my eyes, his lip ring glinted. “That’s cool. I mean… You’re probably elbows deep in doctor-y shit, right? Got better things to do.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” I countered, reaching out to grab his chin. Gently, I tilted him back to look at me. His skin was surprisingly soft.

“It isn’t?” Robin’s tongue wet his lips again, and I internally groaned.

God, being friends with him was going to be a lesson in patience.

“I think it’s incredibly sweet that you want to do that for my kids,” I said, watching as Robin’s cheeks pinked up from something other than the cold. He was so expressive, even when he didn’t mean to be. It was addicting.

“You do?”

“Yes,” I released his chin reluctantly, and he stiffened right back up, like my touch had been what was holding him together. “ Thank you. ”

Robin blinked, surprised. Like he’d expected the worst and didn’t know what to do now that he hadn’t gotten it.

“I’m poison.”

His earlier words fluttered around inside my head, making my heart ache for him as I chose my next words very carefully.

He looked like he needed a nap. Fifty naps. A hundred naps. There was something wild and slap-happy about the way he was moving, like he wasn’t entirely in control of himself. But his pupils weren’t abnormally dilated, so I knew he wasn’t high, and I could tell based on looks alone that it had to have been a while since he rested.

Maybe the B&B made it difficult?

Hell, I had a hard time sleeping when I was in an unfamiliar place.

Add on the fact that Miles was still in school, as was Bubba—and that meant that for most of the day, Robin was left on his own in a foreign place with no friends, no car, and nothing to do—and yeah. I could see why he’d latched onto me.

Why he’d have a hard time resting.

Despite the fact we’d only had two conversations—three now—I was more familiar than anything else here.

“I have a few things I can’t push back,” I lied gently, speaking quickly enough it wouldn’t give him time to get disappointed again. “Why don’t you lie down on my couch and take a nap while I finish up? Then I can come help you.”

He needed to rest, and I hoped I could trick him into it.

“A nap?” Robin looked dubiously at me. “I’m not a little kid.” The longing when he glanced at the buttery soft, red leather sofa in the back corner of the room spoke volumes, however.

“Believe me, I know that.” I glanced at his chest, and the nipple piercings that poked through the fabric, my pulse thrumming. “Humor me? I’ll drive us over when I’m done.”

Robin squinted at me, like he was trying to get a read on me but couldn’t. When I didn’t give in, he simply sighed, slid off my desk with a thunk and wandered his way toward the couch.

“You can take your shoes off,” I told him, turning back to my papers, even though there was no way in hell I’d be able to get anything done with him here with me.

He set his femur on the floor, flopped onto the couch, and reached for the many, many buckles on his combat boots. Click, click, click, he slid them open.

“There’s a blanket in the cupboard to your left.”

“A blanket,” he mumbled, confused. After tugging his boots off, Robin rose to his feet, socked and far shorter than he’d been before. He looked kind of vulnerable like this, and I let myself stare as he turned his back to me and rifled through the cupboard looking for what he wanted. “ Crows ?” He pulled a blanket out, the pink fabric splattered with cartoon crows.

“Jane’s favorite animal.”

“Cool, me too.” He grinned back at me and climbed back onto the couch. Rolling onto his back, the blanket clutched close, Robin sighed.

“You’ll need to unfold it,” I teased him, and Robin flipped me off with a snort before doing just that. Snuggled down, he stared up at the ceiling. His cheeks were bright pink, but there was a pleased little curl to his lips as he twisted his head to look at me. Already, his eyes were drooping.

“You like Christmas shit?” Robin asked with a yawn. He stared at me, waiting expectantly.

“Of course,” I lied. I’d never been big on Christmas. I celebrated because it was something we did, and after I’d become a father I hadn’t wanted my children to go without. I knew I was somewhat of a Scrooge, and I didn’t want that to ruin the holidays for everyone else.

“Really?” Robin perked up, some of the sleepiness fading. He blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyes open. “Because they do these matinees down at the theater—with Christmas movies. And I thought it might be fun to go.”

“That does sound fun.”

It did not sound fun. I did not watch movies unless my children insisted. It wasn’t something I’d ever enjoyed.

“And there’s like…a market thing too? I thought that might be fun.” Robin yawned again, then frowned, betrayed by his own sleepiness. “And sledding .” His words were syrupy and slow. “Holy fuck. I always wanted to go sledding.”

“Do you want me to go with you to these things?” I stared at him, curious.

“I mean…” he shrugged a shoulder—what I was coming to recognize was his signature move. “Do you …want to go to them?” He bit his lip. “With me?”

Instead of answering his question, because it felt quite loaded, I asked, “Why me?”

Robin frowned, snuggling his blanket closer to his chin as he stared at me. He looked young. Which wasn’t hard—because he was young. Far younger than I was at forty-five. He was probably still in his early thirties. Probably not a day over thirty-three.

Why he’d want to hang out with a grouchy, boring man nearly ten years his senior I did not understand. He wasn’t asking to date me. I understood that. But even wanting to spend time together as innocently as he’d just proposed made zero sense.

At least…until he spoke again, and shattered my walls completely.

“I like you,” Robin said simply.

And I figured that was answer enough.