Win Me Over by Nicole Michaels Page B

please…”
    She shushed him as she put the wineglass back in the cabinet and pulled out pint glasses. “I don’t need wine. Besides, like my very ineloquent mother always says, ‘only drunks and stay-at-home-mothers drink alone,’ and since I’m neither of those…”
    Callie poured them each a glass of water and sat back down to finish her meal. Realizing that soon she was going to have her hands full of Bennett Clark, she began to feel flushed. She assumed that she’d have her work cut out for her, teaching this giant football player to be graceful, but now that she’d seen his little girly dog, his beautiful home, and his perfect skills in the kitchen, she didn’t quite know what to expect. This man was many things, and she couldn’t wait to see what other surprises were in store.
    *   *   *
    Torture was inevitable. Bravery was imperative, because brave was what he’d have to be very soon in order to get through this evening, holding her close and not letting his baser instincts take over. The same instincts that right now wanted him to thrust his hands into her hair and taste her lips. Just once. Maybe twice.
    Not going to happen.
    After giving Misha some water, Bennett began to rinse his and Callie’s dishes in the sink, anything to avoid his impending doom. That might have explained the meal, a distraction. But also because he simply liked to cook. Felt he was good at it and stupidly had decided he should make her dinner. It pleased him immensely that she enjoyed it, and he loved how she kept him company in the kitchen as she stood by the stove picking vegetables straight out of the pan with her fingers.
    Every once in a while she’d lick the sauce from her fingertips, which he tried not to focus on. Instead he listened to her as she went on and on and on about why she’d chosen the dance she did. A waltz. If he wasn’t mistaken, two people danced very close in a waltz, but it wasn’t necessarily sexy. Good. Very good; he didn’t want sexy. He wasn’t even capable of sexy dancing.
    After she’d cleared the pan of every remaining mushroom—interesting, he’d almost left them out since Ashley had hated them—he put it into the sink and began to scrub. He found himself stalling, washing it longer just to keep hearing Callie speak. The woman liked to talk and she was really funny. Open. Humble but also incredibly sure of herself. He’d never considered that so appealing, or maybe he’d never known a woman like her. Her personality was as attractive as she was.
    After their first meeting, Bennett hadn’t expected to be so comfortable with her. The teasing and bantering was still there, but Callie wasn’t pushing or prodding at him. He’d dated a little over the years and found that many women thought stroking his ego was the way to go. They wanted him to talk about himself, about his time in the pros. Or they wanted to talk to him about him. How much they knew about his stats, how nice his house was. It was maddening and never ever felt genuine.
    Not Callie. She was happy to chatter about anything and everything as she got herself some more ice from the refrigerator. She talked about her favorite dances, the girls on her team, how much she liked the digital display on his oven. She was just so easy to be around. Never once did she ask him uncomfortable questions or hint for information. He needed to remember that she wasn’t trying to impress him and didn’t have a hidden agenda. She wasn’t into him, and this wasn’t a date. She was doing him a favor.
    Nothing more. And yet watching her laugh as she talked about the crappy oven in her duplex, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe she liked spending time with him, too.
    When the last dish was loaded and he’d started the washer, she walked into his living room and flopped down on the couch.
    â€œSo, we could practice