Yet, here he was.
“Thanks for the dinner,” he said, wiping his hands off with a napkin.
She did the same, grinning. “You’re welcome.”
So. First tip? She liked Wendy’s. Not expensive restaurants. “Now that we’ve stuffed ourselves…” Looking outside, he tried to figure out where they were. They were approaching Penn Station, heading down Eighth Avenue. “What’s next?”
“This.” She handed him a beer. His mother had always said it was a poor man’s drink, and he was never to be seen with one in his hand. He didn’t agree, but he also refused to give her yet another thing to bitch about. “Drink up.”
He tightened his hold, remembering how much he’d enjoyed beer, once upon a time. “Where did you find out about this?”
“That you drink the best wines and whiskeys in public, but truly prefer a twenty-bucks-a-case bottle of beer?” She lifted hers to her lips. “Oh, I have my ways, Benjamin.”
He studied her, lifting his own beer to his mouth to take a swig. It meshed well with the Wendy’s he’d just eaten. He’d asked her to show him what she liked in a date, and instead of taking him to some pottery exhibit or boring art exhibit—she was giving him everything he liked instead. It didn’t make any sense. Why would she do that?
Why would she care?
Lost in thought, he swished the beer in his mouth before swallowing. “Let me guess.” He swirled the amber liquid in the bottle. “Our destination is a place that most people wouldn’t suspect I like to go to, but you somehow discovered it.”
Her lips twitched, and he saw those blue flecks in her eyes that he’d come to crave more than anything else. “Fine. I’ll tell you. We’re going to the Rangers game.”
Jesus. She’d done her homework, all right. If he wasn’t aware it was what she did for a living, it might’ve creeped him out. He understood now why she’d been upset at his botched attempt at a date Saturday night. It was painfully clear that she’d put a shitload of thought into this outing, into the things he’d like, and all he’d done was take her on his generic first date—and he’d assumed she’d be just as lost in his charm as other woman always had been. Maggie was a special kind of woman.
The kind who cared more about his fun than hers.
He swallowed hard, shame churning in his gut. “Let me guess. You found out because you’re just that good?”
“Nah. That one was easy to figure out all on my own,” she said, laughing. “You have a puck on the corner of your desk.”
And that made him feel even worse. She was so much better at this than he was. He was used to skating through life without a care, getting what he wanted from people with a snap of his fingers, and he’d dared to treat her like the rest of the people in his life.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
A few hours later, in the last seconds of the game, Benjamin shot to his feet, a beer clasped precariously in his left hand. The opposing team had slammed a Ranger into the wall, and a fight broke out. “Get the piece of shit!” he shouted, laughing when the Ranger knocked the other guy to his ass. “Fuck yeah!” As soon as the words left his lips, he looked at Maggie. “Sorry. So sorry.”
She laughed. When she was chilly and rosy, she had freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks. “You can shout curses in front of me. I won’t faint.”
People started clearing out of the arena, but he didn’t move. Neither did she. Truth be told, he didn’t want the night to end. It had been…fun. So much fucking fun it was almost like a dream. Like he’d fallen asleep at his desk and would soon wake up with his head resting on a stack of reports, instead of having Maggie at his side.
If that was the case, he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to stay where he was.
He enjoyed hanging out with Maggie, and if they got up, it would be over. She’d go home, and he’d go home, and he’d be alone in his apartment, like always.
Funny. That didn’t sound as appealing as it had a week ago.
“But still.” He sat back down, his knee brushing against hers. He clenched his jaw. All night long, those accidental touches had been killing him, and she suffered, too. He saw the tension in her growing with each soft touch. He felt it, too. “It’s a respect thing. Gentlemen shouldn’t curse in front of ladies.”
She snorted. “Lucky for you I’m not a lady. I’m just me.”
“Ah, but I disagree.” He turned Maggie’s way, and those gray eyes of hers were glowing with so much life. And, damn it, he wanted to feel that way, too. To remember what it felt like when he’d been…well, himself. “You’re more of a lady, and more deserving of respect, than anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re amazing Maggie, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
She swallowed hard and shifted closer to him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced away, before he did the unthinkable and touched her cheek, or gave up resisting, broke the rules, and kissed her. The worst part was he could see the matching desire burning in her eyes, but she refused to give in. “And I’m sorry for my outburst.”
All his life, he’d been taught to hide his emotions. To never show happiness, fear, or even excitement. For a while, he’d balked against those constraints. He’d been alive. But then his father had died, and all that had changed. Around Maggie, the balance shifted again. Tiny pieces of the real him came out to play.
And it was good to get a portion of himself back.
“It makes me happy, seeing you so…” She set a soft hand on his arm. “Free.”
He couldn’t see it, since he’d refocused on the ice, but he could feel it deep down to his soul. It was as if when she touched him, she somehow made him brighter—which was ridiculous. “I’m not free.”
“And you never will be, with your mother on your back.”
He lifted a shoulder, watching the Zamboni smooth the ice. “It’s fine. She’s just got a set of goals in mind for me, and when I don’t follow through with her plans, she gets upset.”
That, and she hates me—for good reason. But he wouldn’t say that out loud. It would only sound like a pity party, and he didn’t do those.
“I get that,” she said softly. She sipped her beer, also watching the machine as it smoothed away the blemishes in the ice. Too bad they didn’t make those for your life. Benjamin could think of a few incidents he’d like to smooth over, too. Maggie went on. “My ex was like that. Overbearing. Controlling. Irrational.”
He glared down at his beer. “I hope you kicked him to the curb quick.”
“Not quick enough.” She side-eyed him. “Not before I needed a court order against him to make him to leave me alone.”
He growled deep in his throat, not even meaning to. The fact that she’d been scared enough—hurt enough—to need an injunction infuriated him. “What’s his name? I’ll kill him.”
“No need.” She smiled, but it was a sad one. “He did that himself, after writing me a note that told me it was all my fault.”
He swallowed. That kind of history explained so much about her reluctance to let him in. To trust him. Hell, he didn’t blame her. Not after what she’d been through. And the worst part was, Maggie was the kindest person he’d ever met. She didn’t deserve that. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.” She lifted the beer to her lips. “Either way, it only proves how bad I am at relationships. It’s why I stopped trying. He wasn’t the first guy to show me that love isn’t worth the fight, but I swore he’d be the last.”
Which was why she refused to let him kiss her. She was scared they’d come to a messy end. And even with all of that, she had gone through a hell of a lot of effort to give him the best date he’d ever had. She’d shown him kindness he could never, and had never, shown another person. It was humbling, and embarrassing, and it made him like her even more.