Under the Mistletoe

Insight

My mind lingered on Ben as I relaxed against the soft sheets, the fabric enveloping me like a warm embrace. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks, and my stomach fluttered with a swarm of butterflies. God, why did my body react like this around someone I barely knew? The embarrassment of waking up in this situation, knowing I would have to face him again, was almost overwhelming. My thoughts swirled around him—his intense gaze, the way he filled the room—and I felt a pool of desire swell within me. Was this really his house?

My reverie was abruptly interrupted when the door opened, and an elderly lady walked in, carrying a neatly folded stack of clothes. Marie was petite, her silver hair pulled back into a tidy bun, and her kind, weathered face was framed by soft wrinkles that spoke of years spent smiling. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, and her presence was both calming and authoritative.

She gave me a small, quiet smile as she laid the clothes at the end of the bed. “Get dressed, and Benjamin will be waiting for you in the kitchen for lunch,” she instructed, her tone stern yet gentle. “Go left, down the stairs, and then right. Follow along until you reach the kitchen.”

I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment still bubbling beneath the surface. As she turned to leave, I caught myself whispering, “Thank you, Marie.” My voice was soft, tinged with the lingering embarrassment of my situation.

She paused for a moment, her expression warmening at my words. With a simple nod, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

I quickly crawled down the bed, my heart racing as I grabbed my bra and some black leggings. I frowned when I realized I didn’t see another shirt among the clothes she had brought. Ignoring the discomfort, I pulled on the leggings and clasped my bra, pulling the large grey shirt back over the top, feeling a mix of vulnerability and excitement. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the wild strands that framed my face.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I followed Marie’s instructions. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. I turned left, my mind racing with thoughts of Ben and the strange tension that hung between us.

As I descended the stairs, I recalled the way he had looked at me, that mix of concern and something deeper lingering in his eyes. I shook my head, trying to dispel the way my body responded to him. It was ridiculous, yet undeniable.

Turning right at the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated for a moment, gathering my courage before continuing down the hallway. The anticipation built with each step, the scent of something delicious wafting toward me, coaxing my stomach to rumble again.

I finally reached the kitchen, heart racing, and cheeks still flushed. As I stepped inside, I caught sight of Ben, leaning casually against the counter, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he looked up at me.

I finally reached the kitchen, my heart racing and cheeks still flushed. As I stepped inside, I caught sight of Ben, leaning casually against the counter, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he looked up at me. My stomach clenched with desire, an electric thrill running through me. Swallowing hard, I slowly made my way over to him, determined to ignore the storm brewing in my stomach.

“Hi,” I muttered awkwardly, feeling that annoying blush creep across my cheeks once more.

“Hello,” he replied, his voice warm and inviting. “I’ve made some Chicken Caesar wraps. Grab a seat.” He indicated to a stool at the counter, sliding a plate toward me before taking a bite of his own wrap.

My eyes were glued to his mouth, those full, kissable lips moving effortlessly as he chewed. I tore my gaze away, my cheeks burning hotter as I focused on my food. What was wrong with me? I felt like a horny teenager, completely unable to control my thoughts.

I slowly took a bite of my wrap, and a small moan escaped my lips at the taste, my eyes rolling back in delight. It was delicious—better than I had expected. I heard Ben cough a couple of times, and embarrassment washed over me. I couldn’t dare to look his way; the sound I had just made was mortifying enough without having to meet his gaze.

“These are really good, thank you,” I managed to mutter through a mouthful, stealing a quick, daring glance at him. He was watching me, amusement glimmering in his eyes, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

He laughed softly, nodding in appreciation. “Glad you like them.” He seemed so relaxed, leaning back against the counter, his posture casual yet effortlessly charming. The way he held himself, confident and easygoing, only added to the tension in the air.

As I chewed, I tried to focus on the flavour, the crispness of the lettuce combined with the savoury chicken and creamy dressing, but my mind kept drifting back to him. The way he looked at me, the way he smiled—it sent shivers down my spine. Each bite felt like an invitation to explore this unexpected connection further, but I couldn’t shake off the awkwardness hanging between us.

“Are you always this good in the kitchen?” I asked, trying to break the tension, my voice light, but my pulse quickening.

“Only when I have someone worth cooking for,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.

I felt my heart flutter at his words, and my face lit up again, warmth spreading across my cheeks. I focused back on my food, trying to hide my embarrassment, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me.

He chuckled, breaking the momentary silence. “You sure blush easily, don’t you?”

I let out a soft groan, ducking my head in response. “A curse,” I whispered, unable to meet his eyes as I fought to keep my composure.

“More like a charming quality,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice low and playful. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and it made my heart race even faster. The way he looked at me, half-amused, half-curious, made it impossible to ignore the chemistry crackling between us.

I took another bite of my wrap, trying to focus on the food, but the flavours were overshadowed by the tension in the air. “I don’t know how to stop it,” I admitted, my voice muffled as I chewed. “It just happens.”

“It’s kind of cute, honestly,” he replied, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. “Makes me wonder what else gets you flustered.”

I felt my cheeks heat up again, and I shot him a quick, defensive glance. “You’re impossible!” I said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. But deep down, I was intrigued by the idea of him wanting to know more about me—about what made me tick.

Ben’s laughter filled the kitchen, rich and warm, wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. “Maybe so, but it’s entertaining.” He took another bite of his wrap, his eyes never leaving mine, and for a moment, I lost myself in the intensity of his beautiful brown eyes. They seemed to hold a depth that pulled me in, making the world around us fade away. I felt my heart skip a beat, the flutter in my chest intensifying with each passing second.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly acutely aware of how close we were, the kitchen filled with the rich aroma of the wraps and the lingering tension between us. I tried to focus on my food, but it was difficult when all I could think about was the way he was looking at me—like I was the only person in the room.

“What?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he caught me staring.

I quickly looked down at my plate, trying to regain my composure. “Nothing,” I mumbled, but my cheeks betrayed me, flushing again under his gaze.

“Come on, I can see you’re thinking something,” he pressed, leaning forward slightly, that teasing smile still playing at the corners of his lips. “You can’t just leave me in suspense.”

I bit my lip, my heart racing. Part of me wanted to play along to tease him back, but another part of me was terrified of where this might lead. “I just… I don’t know how you can be so confident,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, his gaze searching mine. “It’s not about confidence. It’s about being comfortable with yourself, and I can see you’re still figuring that out.”

His honesty caught me off guard, and I felt a swell of vulnerability in my chest. “Yeah, well, it’s a work in progress,” I said, managing a small smile.

“Progress is good,” he replied, his tone sincere. “Not all of us have the best start in life.” He tilted his head, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. “Saying that, tell me about yourself. I know you grew up rich. Your mother passed away three years ago, and your father remarried a year later to Jennifer Creed. You have a stepsister, Adaline Creed, whom you aren’t exactly friendly with. You moved away to study for your business degree, presumably to take over from your dad, but he gave it to Adaline instead. You haven't had a serious relationship, and you’ve worked at Buttercakes Bread for a few years. No credit card debts, student loans.”

I felt my eyes widen in shock, and a rush of heat flooded my cheeks. “What? How do you know all that?” I stammered, struggling to process his words.

He smirked at my reaction. “Sorry. I don’t normally look into someone, but when a girl I meet on a getaway appears in my office with a bankrupt company trying to scam mine, I got curious.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, utterly stunned. Shaking my head, I gazed at him for a moment longer, trying to gather my thoughts. “Um, well… my mum died of cancer three years ago after a long battle. My father, I suspect, was cheating on her once he heard about the diagnosis. I was supposed to inherit the company when I returned, but I was told plans changed. Yes, I have my bachelor’s, but now I’m kind of mooching off my friend Rachel,” I said, giving Ben a pointed look at the scoff that escaped him at her name. “I’m working at a café, trying to figure out what’s next. I’m an introvert, so I don’t make friends easily. I don’t like large crowds. I have no relationship with my dad or his new family. I’m 26 years old and have gotten nowhere, with no clear destination.”

I sighed at the last part, looking down at my wrap, the weight of my words settling heavily in the air. The kitchen went quiet for a moment. The only sound was the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. Then, Ben’s calm voice broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “Miles Co. was on the verge of bankruptcy when I took over from my father. I never wanted to take over the company, but I did so my older brother could chase his dream of being a doctor. I wanted to be a cowboy, riding bulls at the rodeos.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me at his confession, the absurdity of the image making me smile. “I think you would have made a great cowboy,” I said, still chuckling.

He grinned back, the warmth of his smile lighting up the room. “I agree, but I gave up that idea and studied while I ran the company. I guess I got lucky along the way—right time, right place—and we blew up. I never really liked the crowds, but you get used to the spotlight, the attention.” He shrugged, a hint of resignation in his voice.

My smile faded a little, sympathy washing over me. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to live your dream. Your brother must be so grateful to have you,” I said softly, sensing the weight of the sacrifice he had made.

He nodded, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. “It is what it is,” he replied, his voice steady. Ben suddenly frowns before fishing his phone from his pocket. His frown deepens as he glances down at his phone screen. He looked back at me, his expression shifting. “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this,” he said, his voice suddenly businesslike.

As he exited the kitchen, I could hear him say, “Benjamin speaking,” in a serious tone that contrasted sharply with the warmth we had just shared. I watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts.