“Boss man picking you up?”
“Yes.” I sort through the books on Timothy’s bookshelf and grab the book he needs for class. “And I don’t want to miss our flight.”
“Impossible,” Benji says as I race by. Whatever that means.
“That book isn’t going to fit,” Manuel tells me as he winds the tape back onto the roll.
“It’ll fit. Can you overnight the box? I’ll get you some money,” I tell him as I grab my purse. “Is twenty-five dollars enough?”
“Cris.” Dennis sounds frustrated.
“I’m sorry, Den. I’m not trying to ignore you. I just have a few things going on. What about your friend, again?”
The phone vanishes from my hand and Benji says, “Dennis, Benji. How are you, man? I’ll have Cris give you a call when we’re in the air. You going to be around for a while?” A pause and then, “Yeah. You got it. Thanks.”
Call ended, Benji slides my cell phone into the front pocket of my jeans and tucks my wallet into my purse. He follows me to the kitchen where he holds the box flaps down as Manuel applies the tape.
“We have time to drop this off,” he tells my brother.
“We do?” I ask.
“Yeah, Firecracker. We do.”
Manuel jerks his gaze from Benji to me and back again, processing the nickname. I give him a tense smile. Box tucked under one arm, Benji places his hand on my lower back. “Say bye to your brother. I’ll be in the car.”
He then sets a kiss on the corner of my mouth and walks out the door. Now I’m left in my kitchen facing my brother’s narrowed gaze. He doesn’t look happy.
“Don’t.” I point at him. He wants to know everything, but this might be too much to know. Especially when I don’t have time to explain. Not that I would share details. “I love you.”
He’s normally recalcitrant, so I’m surprised by his returned “I love you too.” At least he sounds sincere when he adds, “Have a nice trip.”
* * *
Benji
Two hours later we’ve landed in Florida and a car is taking us to the hotel. I surprised Cris with a private jet rather than flying commercial. As she boarded our airliner, her cheeks tinged pink and her eyes crinkled at the sides. Totally worth it.
We made a quick stop to drop the package at the post office before a cozy flight south. We didn’t have sex on the plane, but I’m not going to say it didn’t cross my mind. I want her losing her virginity to be right. Unfortunately, doing things right means not inducting Cris into the mile-high club on the first go-round. On the flight home, however, anything goes.
I put a pin in my libido and hand the valet the keys. The hotel I booked is a ritzy, modern-day masterpiece. Nothing’s nicer than a Crane hotel.
We check in amidst white and glass and sleek, modern furnishings in the lobby and then take the elevator to the top floor. I booked a suite, and while it’s not a honeymoon suite with a chincy, heart-shaped bed or a champagne-glass hot tub, they do have a bottle of champagne on ice and a vase filled with an assortment of flowers next to it. Nothing but class, which is exactly why I chose this hotel.
“Mr. Owen,” Cris reads from the card. “Enjoy your stay at the Crane Hotel.” She bends to touch her nose to a delicate flower petal and inhales. “Mm.”
The throaty sound reminds me of the shower we had together a few days ago and wow, does that reroute my thoughts. I adjust my dick but don’t linger the way he’d like, before blowing out a calming breath as I take in the view from our floor. I was promised oceanfront. I am not disappointed.
“Amazing,” she says from beside me. “A few hours ago I was in my house, and now we’re overlooking a blue ocean. Isn’t life incredible?”
I smile at her simple yet poignant observation. “Want to dip your toes in?”
Her face lights up. “More than anything.” Then she frowns. “But I can’t. I have to finalize a few things for the event tonight. We’re registered as VIP guests, but Marla asked us check in the moment we arrive. There could be a photo op. If so, we need to know where to show up and choose what you’re wearing. You might want to coordinate with your dad and brothers, but I imagine everyone will wear suits.” While she’s talking, she flips open her suitcase and drags out her laptop. Shoving the flower vase and champagne aside, she opens the computer on the table and bends over it. “And then we’ll have to—hey!”
Her exclamation was due to my shutting the laptop before she could log in.
“Beach,” I instruct.
“Just because we are in an enormous, beautiful suite overlooking the blue water and white sand of the Gulf Coast doesn’t mean we don’t have work to do. Last I checked, I’m still employed by you. These events don’t exactly run themselves.”