I put my plate on my lap and began carving into my sandwich.

“Frankie?”

I lifted a bite and put it in my mouth.

So good.

“Francesca.”

At my full name and the way he said it, I looked to him.

“They gave you shit,” he stated as a fact he now knew from the look on my face. Then his expression turned scary. “They still givin’ you shit?”

I chewed, swallowed, and mumbled, “Uh…no.”

“Cut their losses,” he guessed.

I looked back down at my plate.

He didn’t like my avoidance tactic and I knew this when he grinded out, “Frankie.”

I looked to him and said quickly, “I called Sal.”

His face went straight into a scowl and he demanded, “Tell me you did not.”

“Not to…uh, lean on them or anything. To see if one of his attorneys might put the fear of God into them. That, well…worked.”

“Putting the fear of God into them is leanin’ on them, Frankie,” Benny informed me.

I made no comment.

The scowl didn’t shift as Ben asked, “Have you lost your mind?”

That was a loaded question.

“Babe,” he clipped out when I didn’t answer immediately.

“They were jacking with my credit, Benny,” I said in my defense.

“So you got a mob lawyer to threaten them?”

I tipped my head to the side as my nonverbal “yes.”

“You do not get into Sal for markers,” Ben said low.

“Sal said it was a freebie.”

“That man keeps track of every-fuckin’-thing and you know it. You do not get into him for markers. You do not get into him for anything. And if I had my choice, you would not have one f**kin’ thing to do with him.”

“He’s family, Benny,” I reminded him quietly, because he was, in Ben’s case, actually blood.

“He’s a sociopath, Frankie,” he returned.

That probably couldn’t be argued.

Though he was a charming one.

I decided not to give that opinion to Benny.

I went back to my food, suggesting, “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about Sal.”

“Oh, we’ll be talkin’ about Sal,” Ben told me, and I looked back to him, chip in hand. “Just not now. He’s not top priority.”

Suddenly, I wanted to talk about Sal.

“Don’t look freaked,” Benny said, now gentle, and I focused on him to see his tone was written on his face. “We’re gonna eat. We’re gonna catch up. We’re gonna enjoy this. We can get into the heavy shit later.”

“I vote for next February,” I muttered to the chip bag.

“You’re still with me then, baby, I’d give you that,” Benny told me.

I looked back to him hopefully.

“But, just sayin’,” he went on, “that might not be healthy.”

And my hopes were dashed.

“Now, just eat, honey,” he urged. “And tell me if you like your new job. Tell me about your new place. And I’ll tell you how Chicago survived the earthquake that was Ma when Manny gave Sela the diamond she wanted from Tiffany’s and not Aunt Mary’s heirloom ring, which, even me, as a guy who knows f**k all about jewelry, knows is butt-ugly.”

I giggled at Benny.

Then I popped my chip into my mouth.

After that, I told him about my job, my new place, and listened to him talk about his family.

* * * * *

“I travel for work,” I declared.

It was after dinner and after the minimal cleanup, the most taxing part being hauling all the chips back to the kitchen. Ben and I were back on the couch but arranged very differently.

That would be, me on my back and Ben on me.

Once he got me in this position, I’d decided I’d live, breathe, sleep and eat in it, if I could.

“I get that, you livin’ in Brownsburg and bein’ here,” Ben said on a grin, his hands, as they’d been doing since he got me on my back, were roaming.

“What I’m sayin’ is, I’m usually out of town at least once every two weeks. I’m rackin’ up frequent flier miles.”

That ratcheted the grin up to a smile.

He got me.

I lost his smile when he dropped his head so his lips could hit my neck, where he murmured, “Sounds promising.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, deciding I didn’t like my hands resting on his back over his tee.

I dipped them low, then up and got skin.

Better.

“What’s on for tomorrow?” he asked my neck.

“Two meetings,” I told his ear. “Then I was supposed to fly back. But my secretary already got me on a Sunday flight.”

“Excellent,” he muttered.

I stopped talking when his roaming hand roamed over my ass.

But my mind froze when he whispered against my skin, “What freaked you?”

I knew what he was asking and I was freaking right then because I didn’t have an answer.

He lifted his head and looked down at me. “What freaked you that day in the bathroom, baby?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

His head tipped to the side as his hand moved from my ass, up my side, and in to curl around my neck, where his thumb started stroking my jaw.

Once he had his soothing touch on me, he asked, “No clue?”

“Theresa came,” I said quietly.

His mouth went hard.

I tightened my arms around him. “Don’t blame her.”

“No way she should walk into my house like that, she knows I got a woman in it or not. That said, she knew I had a woman in it.”

“It’s not her fault,” I pushed.

“Okay, maybe not,” he gave in slightly. “But that’s not the point. I’m a thirty-five-year-old man, and my ma lets herself in, shouts up the stairs she’s climbin’, when I got my woman hot for me in my bed and the bedroom door is open? That shit’s whacked, starting at the lettin’ herself in part.”

It kind of was.

It was also not so kind of Theresa.

“She won’t do that again,” Ben declared.

“I bet not,” I muttered.

“What about her showin’ tripped you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was just…just…” I searched for it and found something. The problem was, I wasn’t sure if it was the thing. “It was just that we were taking the next step, a big step. Theresa showed, reminding me what I’d lost and got back, and I freaked. As in, Frankie-style freaked, making a huge deal out of it and doin’ stupid shit that hurts people.”