Loving You Was the Risk

A Peace Offering

Amy POV

The first morning I went back to work, I was running on approximately forty-five minutes of sleep and one deeply questionable amount of caffeine.

After getting ready like a zombie, I looked at myself in the mirror. Hair down today, jeans, and my shelter polo. My hair was lighter today because of spending more time at the beach. I looked….Okay. Tired as s**t, but still acceptable, I guess. It would have to do.

Plus, who was going to judge me? The kids?

Honestly, probably. They can be ruthless.

I panicked and added a little blush and lip gloss. Just a little. No need to scare anyone but enough not to come home and cry because of a bunch of kids that tell the truth no matter how hurtful.

I walked out into the living room and, of course, Austin was already editing engagement photos from the beach, completely in his

zone. I told him bye and practically ran out the door so I wouldn’t be late.

When I hit the last step, I almost jumped out of my skin.

Bennie was there.

Leaning against the railing like he had personally been placed there by my subconscious to ruin my morning. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of my dreams. Or my bad decisions. God, I needed a night with Mr. Red, my favorite vibrator. Maybe then I wouldn't act like a cat in heat.

Apparently, he and Austin were working together all week at the studio, which meant this was not a one-time emotional crisis.

This was now a scheduled event.

And unfortunately, he looked… like I wanted to climb him like a bear on a pole.

He was rude levels of attractive.

Tall, broad shoulders, relaxed like he didn’t have a care in the world, one foot propped against the railing like he was posing for a catalog titled Men Who Ruin Your Focus and Possibly Your Life. He looked solid. Confident. Effortlessly put together in a way that made me want to both admire him and push him off the balcony just to restore balance to the universe.

Today, he was in shorts and a soft gray cotton t-shirt that really had no business fitting him like that. The kind of shirt that looks innocent until it’s stretched across a chest that could probably bench-press my entire emotional stability. His sunglasses were pushed up on his head, which meant I could see his eyes. Clear blue. The kind of blue that should come with a warning label.

My brain supplied the very unhelpful thought: Wow. Panty-melting should be a regulated event.

And then my eyes drifted.

And then my soul left my body.

What the hell?

Were those… tattoos?

One entire arm was covered. Ink climbing up his skin in dark, sharp lines, disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt. It was new. Or maybe not new and I’d just never seen it before. Either way—holy hell. When did that happen? And more importantly, how did I not see it? I think I was too busy having an internal breakdown.

He used to be all elbows and attitude. Now he looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a very specific genre of book that I definitely pretended not to read.

I was, in fact, going to melt.

Right there.

In the parking lot.

Like a dignified adult.

Also… why was he waiting out here anyway?

For me? Absolutely not. This guy is brutal. He was probably waiting to tease me before I’d even had a chance to fully wake up. Rude.

On the outside, I stayed cool. Calm. Collected. The picture of a woman who definitely did not notice how good he looked and was absolutely not reconsidering all her life choices in real time.

On the inside, I was screaming.

I unlocked my car from afar like a normal person. A very normal, very mature person who was not internally spiraling or thinking inappropriate thoughts about men she had known since childhood.

He glanced over, and I pretended my heart wasn’t doing parkour in my chest.

Scheduled event, I reminded myself.

Great.

Just great.

He held out a coffee like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t currently the cause of my internal meltdown.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A peace offering,” he said. “Or a bribe.”

“You’re saying I look tired.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

He smirked.

I stayed frozen, waiting for the verbal attack. The teasing he was so relentlessly good at.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just wiggled the coffee slightly in front of my face.

I sighed and took it.

I was already exhausted.

And I might be a mess, but I wasn’t stupid.

From the balcony, Austin yelled, “Hey, asshole! Where’s mine?”

Bennie didn’t even look up. “You have legs. Use them.”

I laughed as I started toward my car, listening to their familiar bickering and effortless camaraderie, the kind that comes from knowing someone forever.

I got in.

Closed the door.

Started the engine.

And then… didn’t leave.

Because unfortunately, my eyes betrayed me.

Austin and Bennie were still standing there, arguing about something stupid, and Bennie turned just enough that I got a full, unforgivable view of his back.

And his… ass. Damn, that ass.

Wow.

It was like, criminally offensive.

My brain, which is supposed to protect me from making poor life choices, instead said, So… that’s what the military did for America.

I should not be noticing this.

I should not be cataloging this.

I should not be sitting in my car thinking, I could bounce a quarter off that and pay my student loans.

I looked away.

Then looked back.

For science.

What was happening to me? Why was I like this? I’d known this man since he was built like a depressed coat hanger, and for years he didn’t even really talk to me. He just showed up to insult me like it was part of his daily routine.

Now he looked like a very sturdy, very illegal piece of furniture.

My brain was doing that thing where it short-circuits and plays both panic and attraction at the same time. Like, run away but also maybe just one more second of looking.

I shook my head, muttered “Get it together, you horny freak,” and finally put the car in reverse.

As I pulled out, I risked one last glance.

Still arguing.

Still handsome.

Still… wow.

Great.

Just great.

I drove off completely confused, mildly flustered, and deeply concerned about my own mental stability.

By the time I pulled into work, I’d almost stopped thinking about Bennie and was back to thinking about my stupid paper on student collaboration that had somehow turned into an accidental novella. The sun was already up and bright, like it had a personal vendetta against me. I swear it laughed when I cursed it out loud in my car.

Damn, I was tired.

I was supposed to work the next three days from ten to five, but before I could even get out of my car at the shelter, my phone buzzed.

It was my supervisor.

Can you pick up an extra shift on your third day? Just 9 to 12.

I stared at the screen.

Sighed.

Typed Sure.

That’s how you end up exhausted forever. You say yes.

Finally, I dragged myself into the shelter.

Of course, Cassandra showed up late, rushing in with her hair in a messy bun, apologizing about her niece being sick and her sister and brother-in-law working late shifts at the hospital. Both nurses. Both exhausted.

“It’s fine,” I told her honestly.

She blinked like she didn’t believe me. “I promise I’ll make it up to you next week.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. And I meant it.

We talked while setting up breakfast and checking logs. Cassandra told me about her niece and how she always felt like she was failing someone. I told her most of us felt that way and were just better at hiding it.

Before I left that afternoon, she asked, “Doing anything this weekend?”

“Maybe,” I said. “My friend Savannah is trying to drag me out.”

“Where to?”

“Sharky’s Tavern. By the beach.”

“Oh, I like that place,” she said. “You should go.”

“We’ll see if I survive the week first.”

Cassandra just chuckled, gave me a thoughtful look, and walked toward the computer to finish paperwork.

Thank God. I hated doing that.