14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Benjamin
B enjamin was running late and it grated his nerves. He scrambled around the hotel room to collect his wallet, key card, and navy blue peacoat. Phone in hand, he scowled down at the silent device and cursed a certain someone for ignoring his attempts at contact. He’d wanted to give her the heads-up. Informing Miss Miller of his presence ahead of time, instead of sauntering into the Bella Notte banquet room unannounced, seemed like the merciful thing to do. He desperately wanted to avoid drama; he owed Johnny that much.
Despite his friend’s marriage being doomed from the get-go, he could at least play along and do his part to ensure a happy wedding week.
But a certain stubborn little sister refused to respond, which threw a rather imposing wrench into his plan. Francesca was the wild card in this whole affair, and while he doubted she’d do anything to intentionally disrupt the nuptials, he wasn’t so confident in her ability to play nice. He scolded himself for his behavior in class. Had he behaved like . . . well . . . an impartial adult, he wouldn’t have found himself in the current state.
It was too late for all of that, and while he could play shoulda, coulda, woulda until the end of time, the useless musings would fix nothing. All that remained was damage control.
If only Miss Miller would answer the blasted phone.
Benjamin reached up to run a hand through his hair but remembered it was pomaded into place, and he didn’t feel like arriving looking disheveled. It was bad enough that he hadn’t shaved. Snoqualmie Pass was more congested than he’d planned and ate up an extra half hour of his time on the trip over. Fortunately, he doubted his friend would mind the stubble; Benjamin just preferred a certain level of grooming, and going into a potentially tenuous situation less than immaculate left him feeling half-cocked.
Agitation pricked over his already tense shoulders. He needed to calm down, and fast. The cold air would mellow him out—maybe a scotch as well.
He pulled the door shut behind him and adjusted the tan cashmere scarf looped around his neck. The chill swirled around, managing to locate every square centimeter of exposed skin and tunnel into his bloodstream. Gritting his teeth to distract from the sting of winter, he glanced down at his phone.
Still no response, not that he expected one.
In a final attempt, before catching her off guard at the restaurant, he tapped out another message. He took a few assured strides from his door and propelled squarely into some barrier he hadn’t noticed.
“ Oof .” He grunted.
His hard chest plowed into a petite form. She made a breathy gasp, and he flung his arms around her, letting his phone fly from his hands. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus struck him first, followed quickly by the sensation of warm, soft curves pressing against his tense body. Wisps of silky hair stuck to his stubble as he inhaled the heady fragrance before a tickle of recognition stopped him cold.
“What the fucking fuck?” came the sputtering words from the woman in his stabilizing embrace .
No. Oh no, oh no. It can’t be.
He looked down into amber eyes, rimmed by impossibly thick lashes, wide with shock.
It was.
“Jesus, Clark!” Miss Miller spat. She reached up and braced her hands against his chest, pushing him away like he’d tried to grope her against her will.
He supposed he accidentally, sort of did. His cheeks flushed—from the cold, certainly not embarrassment.
“Miss Miller,” he said, straightening his black-rimmed glasses and clearing his throat with what he hoped passed for a friendly chuckle. “It appears we are doomed to repeat history.”
“What the hell are you doing here?!” Her shock morphed into fury. “Are you following me? Did you come all the way to Leavenworth to torment me?”
Her outrage was almost cute. Scratch that, no. Not cute. Benjamin tried to open his mouth and speak, but the whirlwind of her ire stopped him cold.
“What? Did I fail the final and you decided it would be a super fun Christmas present to see the look on my face when you told me in person?” She took a tentative step back. He couldn’t blame her; from her vantage point, he had followed her home for the holidays without her ever divulging where she lived. In the hotel room directly adjacent to hers, no less.
“I can explain,” Benjamin began, holding up both hands.
“You’d better, pal.” She fumbled in her little golden purse and pulled out her phone. “You’ve got three and a half seconds to state your case before I call the cops. And there’s not much for them to do around here, so they’ll love fucking up a creepy, pretty-boy stalker like you.” She took another step back, eyes feral.
“I’m here for your brother’s wedding,” he blurted, not daring to move for fear of bloodshed.
“What? ”
“Johnny and I went to school together.” He let out the breath he’d been holding as she lowered her phone from her ear. “At NWU. I’m Benjamin, er . . . Benji.”
“His friend Benji is a lawyer, not a professor.” Her face dripped with skepticism.
“I was a divorce attorney but switched to teaching a few years ago.” He glanced around for his fallen phone. “Here, let me show you proof.” He knelt, flinching at the crack that webbed down the center of his screen. Serves him right for not putting it in a case. He scrolled through his photos and pulled up a shot of the two men—much younger versions, of course—standing with arms flung over each other’s shoulders. He flipped the phone around and held it so she could see.
Her mouth gaped.
“Well, I’ll be fucked down the road and halfway ’til Tuesday.” She looked back up at Benjamin. Shock once again beginning to morph into something more volatile. “Wait. Was this some sick joke between you and Jon?” She stepped forward, jabbing a pointy finger against his chest. The lingering daylight caught the gold of her earrings, glimmering in a way that matched the wrath flashing in her amber eyes. This fiery version of Miss Miller was rather intriguing, and Benjamin felt a peculiar ripple of curiosity at the back of his brain. The outlandish urge to get a closer look at her gilded gaze nagged momentarily, until he shook the notion away.
“No, no,” he urged. “Of course not. I only just put the pieces together during Thanksgiving break when he and I spoke on the phone. But he doesn’t know who we are to each other.”
“Who we are to each other?” she sneered. “You mean how you tormented me for twelve weeks? Did your best to make me feel unwelcome and . . . and stupid twice a week for an entire quarter?”
Benjamin cringed. He had done that, hadn’t he? But that was before he knew who she was, which didn’t really seem to make it any better.
“Perhaps I was overly harsh,” he began but quickly rerouted as her nostrils began to flare. “All right, all right, I was horrid. But you held your own. You did surprisingly well considering your experiential shortcomings.”
She huffed and turned away, marching through the external hallway and down the steps at the end of the building.
He had to fix this. For Johnny. Benjamin had been a terrible friend for so many years, promising to come out and visit, not being there when Johnny’s first wife, Cynthia, died nor when his father passed before that. It was his mission to do everything in his power to make things right. Carrying on a needless rivalry with his sister wouldn’t help matters. He jogged after the angry woman.
“Wait, Miss Miller.” She dismissed him with a swat over her shoulder and continued along the snow-plowed sidewalk. “Francesca. Please.” He didn’t know why she halted her steps, but he assumed it was the desperation in his voice. She turned and crossed her arms.
Oh wow, she was stunning. Under the residual twilight of the setting sun, her hair glistened like silk and flowed like rich honey in lustrous waves. The pink on her cheeks and scrunch of her nose proclaimed her anger. It wasn’t that he hadn’t found her attractive in his classroom, but with rage pulsing off her, she seemed particularly powerful.
Her ferocity stirred something in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in some time. Something that bordered on carnal.
Woah, maybe I should unpack that later.
She had every right to be pissed at him. He was a little pissed at himself. Benjamin’s hands itched to fix the mess he’d made.
“I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot. Flashes of cherry red toenails peeked out from the keyhole at the tip of her golden shoes. The same red that shone on her manicured fingertips. Would they also match the lingerie she wore beneath?
Focus, man.
“Look. I was awful. A monster. My behavior was completely reprehensible.” He held out his hand, palms up in supplication. “But we must suppress whatever disdain we hold for one another for your brother’s sake. This is his wedding. We need to ensure it goes well instead of selfishly ruining it because of our precarious history.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek rather aggressively but released her arms and nodded.
“Fine. Under two conditions.” She pulled her coat snuggly around her waist.
“Name them.”
“First,” she said as she held up a finger. “Stop calling me Miss Miller. I’m not your student anymore, and I sure as shit won’t be calling you Professor Clark ever again. You can call me Frankie.”
“Of course, Francesca.” he crooned, struggling to quell a grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Close enough. Number two.” She held up a second finger. “Keep your distance. I know there will be times when we have to interact, but I want them kept to a minimum. We are not friends. We are not colleagues. We are acquaintances who tolerate each other at best .”
“Your terms are agreeable.”
Francesca nodded and began to turn toward the restaurant.
“One clarifying question,” he braved.
“What?” She glared over her shoulder. A puff of condensation released from her glossy, parted lips. Her frustration was palpable, and for some reason, he wanted nothing more than to continue egging her on just to see what might happen.
That wasn’t right .
He wanted even more to ensure his friend’s happiness as best he could, especially after all he’d done for Benajmin.
“What are we going to tell Johnny?”
“The truth. I don’t lie to my family. But I will downplay how dickish you really were. I would hate for my brother to stain his rented tux with your bloody nose.”
Benjamin’s pulse spiked at her smirk as she turned and marched away.