Totally and Completely Fine(12)

But before things could get really good, Ben pulled away, his forehead pressed against mine.

“I’m starting to rethink the back seat,” he said.

“Me too,” I said.

We’d already steamed up the windows.

“Can you wait ten minutes?” he asked.

“Can you?”

I gave his lap a meaningful look. He laughed.

“Buckle up,” he said.

* * *

—

He made it to the rental in seven minutes, his hand on my thigh the entire time.

I kept taking deep breaths, my heart racing, my brain as fogged as the windows had been. This was happening.

We pulled into the driveway, and he pulled me into the house.

I was against the door before I could blink.

He kissed me, and his hands went to my top. I closed my eyes and tried to feel everything. Tried not to think. He felt so good. His mouth moved downward to my throat as his fingers made quick work of my shirt. It was unbuttoned halfway down my stomach when I caught my breath.

And unfortunately started thinking again.

“I have to keep my phone nearby,” I said. “You know, just in case. I wouldn’t want to be unavailable if something happens to Lena or Gabe needs me. I mean, they don’t even technically know where I am—I’m sure Gabe thinks I’m just hanging out at his place or reading in the backyard or something, so I just need to make sure that if they have to reach me, they can.”

Ben had stopped halfway through my babbling and was leaning back with his hands on my hips, giving me a look that was unnervingly fond, like I reminded him of a lost kitten or something.

“How about a drink?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to be this way, it’s just—”

He held up a hand to stop me. I could see how calloused his fingers were, and I wanted to feel that on my breasts.

“Let me get you some water,” he said.

“Okay,” I said.

He disappeared in what I assumed to be the direction of the kitchen, while I moved out of the entryway. There was a small living room, and I sank down onto his couch, all my feelings of bravado leaving me. I was now just a spineless, limp bag of well-moisturized skin and freshly blown-out hair.

My shirt was still open to my waist.

I buttoned it up.

Like Gabe, he’d elected to rent a house rather than stay at a hotel, but unlike Gabe’s—which had all the signs of a single man living there—there wasn’t much to look at in Ben’s place.

At least, not much that was his.

The place was furnished like the typical Airbnb—minimal white or gray furniture, with Ikea pillows strewn about. There was a Live, Laugh, Love decal on the wall by the door, which only made the place feel more impersonal, since it stood out among the lack of additional décor.

The couch was nice, at least. I half wondered if I could just disappear into the cushions. One of the few signs of life in the house was on the coffee table. A mirrored tray with glass jars on the far end—the whole thing looked like it had been lifted out of an Instagram ad—and closest to me was a pile of scripts.

The newest pages for The Philadelphia Story were on top, and I lifted them to find a few bound projects with titles like What Is a Man and A Lonely Man All on His Own and…

I froze as I looked at the final script on the bottom of the pile.

Untitled James Bond.

“I probably shouldn’t have left that out,” Ben said.

I dropped the scripts back into place.

“I didn’t see anything,” I said.

He came over and handed me a glass of water before sitting down.

“You didn’t?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said.

We sat there, drinking our water.

I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re going to be the next James Bond?” I asked.

He grinned. “So much for not seeing anything.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m nosy.”

Ben pushed aside the top scripts, revealing the one I’d been looking at. We both stared at it, as if we were expecting it to contribute to the conversation.

“It’s not a done deal,” Ben said. “But they’re interested.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“Is it a good script?” I asked.

“It’s not bad. The money, on the other hand”—he let out a low whistle—“is very, very good.”

I was surprised. Looking around his rental—and at him—it didn’t seem like Ben was someone who was focused on a big payday.

Then again, I didn’t know him.

“I’ve heard that,” I said.

I thought of Gabe. The money had been life-changing. For him. For us.

But it hadn’t come without major complications.

He’d gone from someone who looked vaguely familiar to the average person to being mobbed by paparazzi and fans whenever he tried to go out for coffee or groceries.

He’d had a few people follow him into the bathroom.

Once Hollywood turned its spotlight on you, there wasn’t much that could be done about privacy. Whether it was worth it I didn’t know. I’d never asked my brother.