Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Ben
I step out from the kitchen and spot Kelly right away, her bright smile aimed at the woman sitting across from her. My gaze shifts, landing on the woman, and for a second, I forget what I was even walking over for.
She’s… striking. Long, dark hair pulled back so I can see the curve of her jaw, the smooth line of her neck. Her top is simple, neat, tucked into a pair of fitted slacks that make her look polished without trying too hard.
She doesn’t look at me right away, her gaze fixed somewhere on the table, like she’s running through a mental checklist. Even from a few steps away, I can see the nerves in the way her fingers tighten together in her lap, the way her shoulders stay just a little too straight.
Then, finally, her eyes lift to mine.
There’s a flicker. No. It’s more than that. Shock. Like she’s just been blindsided by something she wasn’t expecting to see.
It throws me for a second. I’ve seen plenty of reactions when I meet someone new—I meet new people every single day. I see the range, from friendly to guarded to flirty. But never this.
And I have no idea why.
The longer I stand there, the harder it is to ignore the rest of her.
The way those slacks hug her legs, the soft curve of her hips, the delicate line of her collarbone disappearing beneath the collar of her blouse.
My mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t—fast, uninvited, and entirely inappropriate for a potential tenant.
I drag my gaze back to her face, but it doesn’t help. Her lips are full, the kind that make a man wonder what they’d feel like against his own. And those eyes… God, those eyes.
They’re warm, like melting chocolate, holding my gaze. Like she’s taking me in at the same time that I’m sizing her up.
Her gaze stays locked on mine, and for a beat, neither of us moves. There’s a tension there that has nothing to do with leases or rental agreements. I’m used to reading people quickly, figuring out if they’re going to be easy to deal with or cause me a headache. But with her, I can’t pin it down.
I clamp down on the thought, hard, shoving it into a corner where it belongs. This is business. Just business.
Kelly’s voice cuts in, pulling me a half step back into the moment. “Ben, this is Paige.”
It takes half a second for the name to land, and when it does, it’s like a punch to the chest. Paige.
Paige Richards.
The recognition doesn’t come in one clean piece—it slams into me in jagged flashes. Jason’s kid sister. A few years younger, always hanging around the periphery back then. Big brown eyes, a quiet way of watching people.
I haven’t seen her in what—eight years?
Right after graduating college, Jason and I moved back here. She was at the grad party.
But once we moved in together, that was it.
Then she went off to college.
And now she’s back…
Now she’s sitting here in my pub, looking nothing like the girl I remember. This woman… she’s polished, confident-looking despite the nerves I spotted a minute ago, and she’s grown into herself in a way that stirs something in me—entirely unwelcome. My jaw tightens automatically.
Hell. Jason’s little sister.
What the hell am I doing, thinking of Jason’s kid sister like this?
I slide into one of the empty chairs, still trying to get my head straight. Paige’s name is bouncing around my skull like a loose bolt in a dryer. I manage a polite, neutral nod in her direction, but inside, I’m still trying to reconcile the girl I remember with the woman sitting across from me.
Kelly’s smiling between us like she’s just waiting for the pleasantries to start. “So, Paige, this is Ben Hoffman, the owner. Ben, Paige Richards.”
“Yeah,” I hear myself say, my voice coming out slower than usual. My gaze flicks back to her, catching the tension at the corner of her mouth.
She nods, but doesn’t elaborate, and it’s enough to make Kelly’s head tilt like she’s sensing there’s more.
“Do you two know each other?” she asks, her eyes darting between us.
Paige hesitates, just a beat, before she says, “Sort of. Through my brother.”
Jason’s name doesn’t get mentioned, but it’s sitting in the middle of the table like a third wheel.
I lean back, forcing my voice into the kind of casual I use with regular customers. “Yeah. Jason Richards and I go way back.”
But my brain’s not buying the casual act. It’s too busy flashing me little memory fragments—her curled up in the corner of their big couch with a book, her laugh drifting from the kitchen when she thought no one was listening, the way she used to look at me, shy and red-faced.
Now, she’s looking at me like she’s not sure what to make of me at all.
Kelly gives a bright smile, flipping open her folder. “Well, that makes this easier. No need for formal introductions, then.”
I nod, pulling my focus back to the reason we’re here, but every time Paige shifts in her chair or looks up at me, I feel a strange, uninvited awareness I have no business feeling for Jason Richards’ little sister. And yet, here it is, sitting in my chest.
Kelly launches into the lease details, her tone upbeat yet efficient, sliding papers across the table for me to reference. I nod at the right times, answering her questions when they’re directed at me, but most of my attention keeps drifting toward Paige.
She’s listening closely, that much is obvious.
Her posture is straight, hands resting on her lap, but every now and then she glances at me.
I can tell she’s prepared—probably rehearsed a dozen answers in her head, but I can also see the small tells.
The way her fingers smooth an invisible wrinkle in her slacks.
The way her foot shifts under the table when she’s waiting for my response.
When she finally speaks, it’s with a surprisingly steady voice. Confident, but not overplaying it. “I’ve already reviewed the terms Kelly sent, and they work for me. I’d like to clarify the maintenance agreement, though.”
Her gaze is on me now, not Kelly, and for a second, I almost forget she’s Jason’s sister. Almost. “Standard for the building,” I say, keeping my tone even. “I cover structural, plumbing, electrical. Anything relating to your build out— fixtures, appliances, cosmetic— you handle.”
She nods slowly, her eyes narrowing just a little.
She leans in a touch. “The appliances in there right now are… well, outdated is putting it nicely. I’d like to bring in updated ones—a commercial-grade oven, mixers, maybe a new fridge unit. To do that, I’ll need the electrical upgraded. Possibly some other modifications depending on the specs.”
I nod slowly, already running through the logistics in my head.
She’s just leasing, so it doesn’t make much sense for her to eat the full cost of long-term infrastructure upgrades that will ultimately stay with the building.
“Maybe we can work out a split,” I say, leaning forward a little.
“If the electrical panel or wiring needs upgrading to handle commercial-grade equipment, that’s something I’m willing to invest in.
It benefits the building long-term. But if we’re talking specialized hookups or modifications just for your setup—those costs would be on you. ”
Her brow furrows slightly, but not in disagreement—more like she’s already calculating what that would mean for her budget. “So, for example,” she says, “if the current system can’t handle the oven I want, you’d cover the panel upgrade, but I’d pay for running the dedicated line to that oven?”
“Exactly,” I say. “That way you’re not paying to improve the whole building, and I’m not footing the bill for equipment that’s only useful for your business. I think it’s a fair compromise.”
Kelly smiles while making notes. “That’s a reasonable approach. We can put the language in a lease addendum so there’s no confusion later.”
“I’ll have my electrician check the panel and wiring in that space,” I continue, leaning back in my chair but keeping my focus on her.
“If you give me the list of equipment you plan on putting in, I can have him upgrade everything, make sure it’s all up to code, and ensure we don’t overload the building’s existing systems. Once we know exactly what we’re dealing with, we can decide how to divide the costs. ”
She doesn’t flinch at the mention of cost or extra steps, which tells me she’s already factored it in. “That’s fine. I just want to make sure everything is ready before I start bringing in equipment.”
There’s that thoughtfulness again, professional and deliberate.
Definitely not the kid I remember who could barely squeak out a sentence in my presence.
I keep my face neutral, but inside, I’m trying to reconcile this capable, self-assured woman with the flashes of memory I’ve been getting ever since I recognized her.
Kelly jots another note, her pen moving quickly across the page. “I’ll set up the inspection as soon as possible. If you can get your specs together, Paige, we’ll make sure the electrician reviews those when he’s on-site.”
“Already working on it,” she says, a small, confident curve tugging at her lips.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile like that, and for reasons I can’t explain, it hits me right in the gut.
I force myself to refocus on the folder in front of us, on the black-and-white terms we’re supposed to be discussing, but part of my mind is still replaying that moment.
And I know it’s going to keep replaying whether I want it to or not.
Kelly glances between us, pen poised above her notes.
“So,” she says, her tone shifting into a tone that clearly indicates that she’s ready to wrap it up, “would you both like to move forward with the original lease agreement for now and handle the electrical upgrades in an addendum later? Or do you want those changes made to the lease before you sign? For assurance.”
She mostly looks at Paige, since she’s the one most at risk if I don’t hold up my end of it.
Paige looks at me like she’s considering the situation and whether she can trust me before committing to an answer.
I make sure my voice comes out steady when I say, “The original lease works for me. I’ll have the electrician out first thing in the morning, so we can draft the addendum as soon as possible. No sense holding up this end of it over details we don’t have yet.”
There, that should assure her. Right?
Paige nods once. “I agree. Let’s keep it moving.”
Kelly slides the lease agreement across the table, flipping it to the flagged pages. “Alright, then. Sign here, here, and initial here,” she says, tapping the spots with the tip of her pen.
I scrawl my name in the owner’s fields while Paige watches, then turn the document toward her. I pick up the pen, holding it out. As she reaches for it, my fingers brush hers—just the faintest contact, warm and quick—but it’s enough to make my chest tighten in a way I’m not prepared for.
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, but her eyes flick up to mine for a split second before she drops them back to the paper.
She leans forward to sign, her handwriting neat and precise.
I catch myself watching the curve of her wrist, the way she steadies the paper with her other hand, and I force my attention back to the table’s scratched surface.
This is business, I remind myself, not whatever the hell my brain seems intent on making it.
When she’s done, she caps the pen and slides it back toward Kelly. Our eyes meet again, and there’s something unreadable in hers, something that tugs at me.
Kelly claps her hands together once, the sound sharp enough to pull both of us out of whatever unspoken thing just passed between our eyes.
She beams, her smile bright and genuine.
“Well,” she says, her voice practically bubbling with excitement, “it’s official.
Paige, you’ve just leased your very own space for your business. How does it feel?”
Paige exhales, and her shoulders drop just a fraction, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “Feels good,” she admits, then laughs. “That might change in a couple of weeks, but right now, it feels good.”
Kelly nods like she’s personally proud of the accomplishment. “You’ve worked for it. Now you get to make it yours.” She gathers the papers, tucks them neatly into her folder, and snaps it shut with a satisfied flick.
I push back from the table, rising to my feet. “I’ll go grab the extra set of keys,” I say, my tone brisk. I make my way through the pub, weaving between tables that are steadily filling with customers.
Conversation in the pub has turned into a lively buzz, glasses clinking at the bar, the sizzle and hiss of the kitchen bleeding through the swinging door as I pass.
I slip into the quieter back hallway, the sounds of the restaurant dimming as I step into my office. The small space smells faintly of paper, wood polish, and the hops from the brewing area down the hall.
I open the drawer in my desk, sift through a small ring of labeled keys, and pluck the one marked for her unit. Turning it over in my palm, I feel the cool weight of it, aware of the significance it’s about to carry.
By the time I get back to the table, Kelly’s chair is empty, her folder and pen gone. It’s just Paige now, sitting with her hands resting lightly on the table, looking both relaxed and slightly at a loss for what to do with herself.
“Kelly had to run?” I ask.
“She had another showing,” Paige says, offering a small shrug. “Didn’t want to keep her client waiting.” There’s a pause, just long enough for the quiet between us to feel noticeable.
To me, anyway. I have no idea what’s going through her mind.
I clear my throat and hold out the key between us. “Here you go. Your new bakery space.”
Her fingers brush mine again when she takes it, and for a beat, neither of us says anything.
Then she smiles, small and polite, before tucking the key into her bag. “Thanks.”
I nod toward her bag. “Heading over there now?”
She glances at me, one corner of her mouth lifting. “Yeah. Figure I should take a look now that it’s officially mine.”
I should leave it at that. Tell her good luck, go back to the kitchen, get back to work. That’s what the sensible version of me would do. But for some reason, that version’s voice is quieter than usual.
It’s not a big deal, I tell myself. Just being neighborly. Making sure the new tenant knows her way around. It’s practical. Completely professional.
The other half of me knows that’s crap. Knows I’m already too aware of her in a way that has nothing to do with leases or building maintenance.
Still, before I can stop myself, I hear the words come out. “Why don’t I walk over with you? Give you the official tour.”
Her brows lift just a little, like she’s surprised by the offer, but she doesn’t say no. And I can’t decide if I’m relieved or if I’ve just made a huge mistake.