Borrowing Bentley (Wishing Well Texas Book 9) Read online

  “So how is your date going?”

  “What?” She looked up at me.

  “Your date?”

  “Oh, it’s not really…wait, why?” Her guard immediately went back up.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you asking me about my date?”

  “Is there a law that I can’t ask you about your date?”

  It was obvious by her body language and stare that she assumed I had some ulterior motive. But I honestly didn’t—other than the satisfaction I’d get from hearing how bored she’d been all night.

  Ever since I moved into the condo next to Olivia four years ago, she and I had breakfast together most mornings. For a while there, our breakfast talks had consisted of my sis filling me in on The Adventures of Maisy’s Dating Life. I’d always found it entertaining, probably because most of them were more like misadventures. But I hadn’t heard much about it lately.

  “It’s fine.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “He’s nice.”

  “Nice and fine, those are the two words a man likes to hear after a date.”

  “Why are we even talking about this?” I could see she was getting frustrated.

  “We’re going to be working together, and closely, for the next few weeks.” I held her a little tighter as I said the word closely. It wasn’t intentional, more like a knee-jerk reaction, and I couldn’t be sure if she’d noticed it. “I’m just trying to make small talk.”

  “Well, don’t.” Her tone left no room for argument.

  Which was sad. Arguing really was our sweet spot.

  The second the song was over, she stepped out of my arms. I watched as she walked back to join her sister and date at the high top they’d been at all night.

  “I can’t believe Maisy volunteered to dance with you.” Olivia said in disbelief as she stepped to my side on the dance floor. “Her date must be really bad.”

  That, or I’d tricked her into it. Maybe it was both. As I watched her grab her purse and make excuses to leave, I had the strangest impulse to offer her a ride. I shook it off. It was probably just because I’d programmed myself to sleep with whoever I had the last dance with.

  Yeah, that had to be it.

  Chapter 9

  Maisy

  “Some people you love right away, other’s grow on you, like a fungus. I prefer fungus, it sticks.”

  ~ Granny Turner

  I stretched my arms overhead and yawned for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. I’d been up working since three-thirty because I couldn’t sleep. Not because of the nightmare that had haunted me for years. No, last night was much more disturbing.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I was transported back onto the dance floor with Bentley. I saw the tiny scar above his left brow. I felt his hand spread across my lower back, and his strong leg pressed between my thighs as he dipped me. I was surrounded by his strength and agility. I smelled the clean fresh scent of his aftershave combined with his natural earthy musk.

  For years, I sat on the sidelines and watched him dance with any and every female in Clover County. I’d seen him flip girls, dip girls, and twirl girls, but I’d never been that girl. And the night before, I had been. It was, in a word, intoxicating. I’d actually gotten a buzz when we were on the dance floor.

  I shouldn’t have agreed to it. I knew that now. I wanted to believe it was because Bentley tricked me, or that he’d made a good point when he said we needed to show people that we could get along. But the truth was, I’d always wanted to be that girl that he was twirling, dipping, and flipping. And once he’d pulled me into his arms, I’d been unable to pull away.

  Something I’d only become aware of over the last twenty-four hours was that when Bentley touched me, I didn’t just feel it at the point of contact. I felt him all over. One dance was all it had taken for him to imprint himself further onto me.

  The first time he’d left his mark was the kiss twelve years ago. The second time was, yesterday before the press conference when his hand had ended up on my rear. And then last night on the dance floor. Each time we came into contact I felt branded by him. And the sickest part about that was, I’d liked it.

  All of it. The kiss. The dryer sheet. The dance.

  My reactions to Bentley had always been extreme. He could get me madder than anyone else could. It wasn’t even close. But, he also made me hotter than anyone else did, and that wasn’t a close race, either.

  I had a boyfriend in college, and our sex life had been great. But Stephan had never come close to making me feel what Bentley had. And moreover, he’d been putting in effort. Bentley was able to spin me around, body and soul, just by walking in the room.

  And that really pissed me off.

  And now that I thought about it, there was another thing that pissed me off. Why did Bentley have to be such a, dick to me? Excuse my French.

  If it were Brady, I’d think that it was just his way. But Bentley was different with other people than he was with me. He was nicer. He was more considerate. He actually was the “good one” to other people.

  He’d moved next door to Liv so she wouldn’t feel so alone. He took Barbara-Jean Nelson out for breakfast at six a.m. every Saturday morning for months after her husband of sixty years had passed away last summer.

  I knew that he’d done that because Tami Lynn had mentioned that he fell asleep one morning right at the table. Barbara-Jean’d said to let him sleep because he’d just worked fifty-four hours straight on a big case.

  He mowed our old high school principal Mr. Craft’s lawn for a year after he had back surgery, because he knew how much pride the Crafts took in their home. I knew that because Mrs. Craft went to Zumba with my mom, and she told her.

  Basically, I was one of the only people in Clover County that Bentley didn’t go out of his way to be kind to. The opposite, in fact. It was sort of hard not to take that personally.

  I still had no clue why he disliked me so much. He’d literally been making fun of me since before we ever spoke.

  Our first interaction had been horrible.

  I was five years old; it was the first day of kindergarten. I was sitting on a bench by the playground because I didn’t want to get my yellow dress dirty. I loved that dress and had been saving it to wear for the first day of school even though I’d gotten it as a church dress months before. I was nervous because my parents decided to separate me and my sisters, so we were all in different classes. It was the first time I’d ever spent that much time away from them.

  As soon as he saw me sitting there in my yellow dress, he started making monkey noises and going across the swinging bars. My dad had said that I looked like a banana when he’d seen me in the dress, so I thought that was what Bentley was making fun of, but I tried not to pay him any mind. The problem was the more I ignored him, the louder he got. When the bell rang, I was so relieved to go into class. I was first in line and the next thing I knew, he jumped in a puddle and splashed muddy water all over me.

  The entire class laughed, and I did my best not to cry. The teacher noticed the tears in my eyes and allowed me to go to the office and call my mom for a change of clothes. He never apologized for it. Yes, he was only five, but it wasn’t like his behavior had improved much over the years.

  So why did he make me feel so alive when he touched me? Why was his face the only thing I saw when I closed my eyes? Why was I incapable of focusing on my work?

  I couldn’t stand him, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It didn’t help that I could still smell him on me even after taking a shower last night, and another one this morning. It’s like I’d gotten skunked by him. I wondered if tomato juice would work on the smell of aftershave…

  Whatever was going on with me, it needed to stop. My reactions to him might be extreme, but that didn’t mean my behavior had to be. Just like I wasn’t going to allow him to goad me into arguing with him, I wasn’t going to allow him to seduce me into another kiss.

  Or worse.


  Not that he’d try, but still.

  I sat up straighter, clear on what I had to do. I felt instantly stronger. Everything in life was better when you had a plan.

  Later today, I would call Bentley into a meeting, and we’d have the talk we should’ve had yesterday before Orville interrupted us. I would clearly outline what was appropriate behavior and what was not. And that wasn’t limited to when we were in the office. Last night, he’d tricked me into volunteering for a dance, and I did not appreciate it.

  Didn’t you, though?

  Damn my little voice. I narrowed my eyes. No, I didn’t appreciate it, thankyouverymuch, and I planned on letting him know.

  I shifted restlessly in my chair. As tired as I was from getting no sleep, I had a nervous energy that made it impossible to sit still and focus.

  Instead of trying to fight it, I decided to go make copies of a presentation we were giving to all the department heads at the end of the week. I went to the copy room and was relieved to find it empty. As much as I liked my coworkers, I didn’t have it in me to fake my way through water cooler talk.

  I was halfway through the batch when I got an error signal, letting me know there was a paper jam. I bent over, trying to find where it was, when the atmosphere around me shifted. Before he said a word, I knew—my body knew—that Bentley was behind me.

  “Mornin’, Daisy with an M.” His deep voice reverberated through my body like an echo in the Grand Canyon. “Can I give you a hand?”

  Hand.

  Just hearing him say the word caused my body to shiver with the memory of just how amazing his hands had felt against my bare skin the night before. For one, they were large. Their size alone made me feel protected.

  Then, there was the talent in them. They’d spun me, caught me, and maneuvered my body like I was a puppet and he was a master puppeteer. And the most enticing thing about them was their actual texture. He had just enough callouses to be rough and manly…but they were somehow also soft. His touch had power and strength, but was also gentle and tender.

  “Nope. I got it.” My voice was sharp, and I tugged the paper loose with much more force than necessary. I stood and restarted the machine, praying it would work. The last thing I wanted—or scratch that, needed—was for him to invade my personal space to fix the copier. The last thing I needed was to be re-skunked by Bentley Calhoun.

  I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to give off a professionally distant vibe. Thankfully, the machine buzzed back to life at that moment. “Did you happen to see the projections that I sent—”

  “Check your email,” he said with a wink, then smiled and headed down the hall.

  A wink. What was it with all the winking? That kind of behavior was exactly what I was worried about.

  No more flirtation. None. It didn’t matter that we’d known each other since we were kids, or that he treated every other person in the world that way. It wasn’t appropriate for work. And I was going to tell him that.

  I was still flustered when I got back to my office. As soon as I walked in, that feeling amplified. I saw that it was no longer just my office. Bentley had moved in. He now occupied the small desk in the corner that, prior to this, had only been used for storage.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to ignore the way my belly flipped. “Why aren’t you in your office?”

  “I am. Grace in HR asked if I wouldn’t mind bunking with you since this was a temporary arrangement. I didn’t want to come off like a diva, so I agreed.”

  I knew that he added that last part so I would look like a diva if I said I wasn’t okay with it.

  He shrugged with studied nonchalance. “But, hey, if this is a problem, I can go talk to Grace and let her know—”

  “It’s fine.”

  No! My office was my space. I’d worked hard to get my own office—and not just any office, but an office with a private bathroom.

  All my life, I’d shared rooms and bathrooms with my sisters. Rooms and bathrooms. When I was little, I fantasized about having my own house, and my own office at work. I didn’t even know yet what I wanted to do for a living, just that I wanted to do it in my own office.

  Not to mention, I’d planned on retreating to this space when I needed to get away from Bentley. Now that he was occupying it, where was I going to go? It wasn’t like I could use the excuse of going to the bathroom, since it was connected, and that would be kind of obvious.

  Wait. He’s gonna hear me go to the bathroom!

  I was biting the inside of my cheek when Bentley flipped open his laptop. His screensaver was a picture of him with his dog on his family’s boat, down at the lake. I’d always loved the sight of a man with a dog. Some women loved pictures of guys holding babies, some had a weakness for guys reading, but for me, it had always been man and man’s best friend.

  And the photo on his screen could’ve easily been on a poster or one of those catalogs for charity. He was shirtless, with water dripping down his chest and his golden retriever, Thor, sitting on his lap.

  “Did you need something?” he asked, his hands hovering over the keyboard, implying that I was trying to steal his password.

  “I was looking at Thor.”

  “Right.” The half-grin that lifted the corners of his mouth before he turned back around had that all-too-familiar annoyance creeping up my spine.

  It served as a splash of cold water. No one could irritate me as quickly and completely as Bentley. It was a gift, truly. Growing up with three sisters, I’d been surrounded by estrogen, and I, by all accounts, had been the most patient and even-tempered of the Turner girls—and that included my mother.

  Granny Turner used to say that I had the patience of a saint. I think that was only because I was the quietest when she was looking after us.

  But Bentley, somehow, managed to get on my last nerve at every turn. Maybe it was because I always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt and never took anything personally. If someone was rude, I assumed it was because they were having a tough day. If they dropped the ball on something, I was sure it was because they must have too much on their plate and were overwhelmed. If they lied, I was convinced that it was merely because they were mistaken.

  But Bentley never got the benefit of a single doubt of mine. Quite the opposite. If he was rude, I knew it was personal. If he dropped the ball on something, I was sure it was because he had zero respect for whatever it was. If he lied, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was not only intentional, but malicious.

  Early childhood experiences have a profound impact on how we perceive the world around us, and very early on, Bentley had caused me not to trust him. So I never had, and likely never would.

  As I looked at him now, all I felt was irritation. I was so happy to be rid of any warm and fuzzy feelings for him, I could kiss him. But I wouldn’t, though, because that would probably just bring the warm fuzzies back.

  A knock sounded on the door and Orville stepped in, wearing his signature red suspenders, white button-down short-sleeved shirt, and slacks that were one size (at least) too small. “How’s my dream team?”

  “Good.” We both answered as I walked back to my desk.

  “Don’t you two look cozy?”

  More like cramped.

  “I just stopped by to tell you that Helen and I are having some people over Friday night and you two are invited. I’m not taking no for an answer.” Orville pointed at both of us.

  Great. More time with Bentley.

  “Sounds good.” Bentley nodded.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” I forced a smile on my face.

  Orville started discussing the draft and I tuned him out as I pulled up the spreadsheets I’d been working on. It was actually easier to focus on it with people talking in my office than it had been when it had just been me and the voices in my head.

  I was lost in my work when an email alert appeared in the top right corner of my screen. I looked, saw the message was from Jenny in accounting, and clicked
on the notification. The first thing I noticed when my email program surfaced was that Bentley had replied to all seven of the emails that I’d sent him in the middle of the night when I’d been up working.

  As I started to go through them, my jaw dropped. He’d found inconsistencies I’d missed. Come up with several theories as to how the funds were siphoned. And he had a game plan for how to start a process of elimination.

  I could see that my concerns about Bentley not carrying his weight were unfounded. For years, I’d been walking around thinking Bentley was the human embodiment of the Dunning-Kruger effect, and now I had to admit that I’d been wrong. He was clearly up to the task. If anything, I’d be trying to keep up with him.

  That should’ve made me happy, especially since we were in this together. So why did it feel like one more thing that made him harder to resist?

  Chapter 10

  Bentley

  “Exes are good from afar, but far from good.”

  ~ Granny Turner

  “Welcome to Casa Rogers!” Orville bellowed from the open door as I walked up the brick path to his house.

  Memories flooded back to me with each step I took. I wasn’t thrilled about being at the Rogers’ house. The last time I’d been invited here was back when I was with Camilla, who was Orville’s wife’s niece. Cam and I used to come to family dinners at least once a month in the years we were together.

  As I walked into the house and looked around, a strange feeling crept up my back. Everything looked exactly the same as it had eight years ago. It was like walking into a time capsule.

  It seemed like I was the first one to arrive. I handed Helen the brandy that I’d brought because, as a good southern boy, I never showed up anywhere empty-handed. She took it and pulled me into a welcoming hug. Even she was the same, still wearing the same perfume she had worn since I was a teenager.

  “Hello, dear. It’s been too long. How have you been? I’ve been worried about you. I heard about the trouble at the Grimes farm.”