Chapter Six #2
Willow leaned against the bench with a wicked grin. “And you’re our sacrificial lamb. Or should I say—our thirsty decoy.”
Franco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep him charmed. But I expect hazard pay. And possibly a staff award titled ‘Most Likely to Tame the Spreadsheet Demon.’”
“You’re not taming him,” Raj called from the sink. “You’re simply distracting him with cheekbones and chaos.”
Franco pouted. “Hey, you didn’t mention my fabulous arse. I’d call that a distraction.”
Willow jerked her head toward the door at the sound of footsteps. “Showtime!”
Chloe shoved Franco toward the coffee machine. “Make yourself look useful. Make eye contact. Lower your voice. Brood , damn it!”
Franco grabbed a rag and began sensually wiping the espresso machine as though he was in a European indie film.
Ben pushed the door open a moment later, glancing around the kitchen with professional suspicion. “Anyone seen the updated inventory sheet?”
Chloe dropped a spoon, Raj swore under his breath, and Willow feigned a coughing fit.
Franco turned, enough to aim a sly half-smile at him. “I was about to help Ollie with it. But we could use your insight... if you’re free.”
Ben hesitated for the smallest moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, then nodded as if he’d clocked something but wasn’t quite ready to name it.
“I’ll be in the office,” he said. “Bring it in when you’re done. ”
And with that, he vanished again.
The second the door swung shut, Ollie whistled. “Mate. He is so onto you.”
Willow looked gleeful. “Even better. That means it’s working.”
Chloe high-fived Franco without looking up. “You’ve got him exactly where we want him. Distracted, suspicious, and maybe a little turned on.”
Franco sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I can’t help thinking this is going to blow up in our faces.”
Willow nodded serenely. “That’s always a possibility. But until then, Operation Distracto is a certified success.”
“I think we need a new name,” Raj announced. He grinned at Franco. “Operation Sunshine.”
The dinnertime rush of customers had slowed, and Ben had to admit it had been a busy evening. He sat at the bar with his laptop, watching everything but trying not to analyse every moment.
Franco was as effervescent as usual, whirling around the restaurant, talking with customers, laughing, joking…
Who needs electricity? He lights up the space.
Willow approached the bar, then leaned against it, a notepad in one hand, scrawling notes in it. “So… I was talking to Raj and Chloe, and we realised something.”
The conversation started the way all of Ben’s least favourite conversations began: casually.
Too casually.
He looked up from his laptop. “Uh-oh.”
Willow grinned. “You’re getting predictable, you know that?”
“Not as predictable as whatever this is about to be.”
She ignored that. “We were saying it’s been forever since the team’s done anything outside of work. You know, like something fun. A reset.”
Chloe appeared from nowhere, holding an empty tray. “Like the staff retreat, you mean. Marco used to do it every year. Franco remembers.”
Ben glanced toward the pass. “Franco?”
As if summoned, Franco slid into view with the exaggerated smoothness of a man far too ready to be mentioned. He raised a brow and gave a small shrug. “Guilty. Though I’m not sure if we bonded or just collectively suffered through damp tents and ‘trust exercises.’”
Raj piped up from the prep station. “Either way, it worked. Everyone came back less murder-y.”
Ben closed his laptop slowly. “I feel as though you’re all building toward something.”
More than that. It felt like a set-up.
“Just hear us out.” Willow inched closer to him, like someone trying to talk down a wild animal. “A one-day retreat. Nothing intense. Outdoorsy, maybe. Team building, firepit, snacks.”
“Thermos wine,” Chloe added.
“Absolutely not a cult,” Raj offered helpfully.
Ben blinked. “You’re serious.”
Willow nodded. “Deadly.”
Chloe leaned in. “We just thought it might help—you know, with everything. People are still adjusting. And… you’re new.”
Franco gave him a slow, unreadable smile. “Sometimes a little chaos off the clock brings people together.”
Ben studied their faces. Too many innocent expressions. It was definitely a setup.
He just wasn’t sure how yet.
“And you want me to—what? Approve this? Attend it?”
“You have to attend it,” Chloe said quickly. “That’s the whole point. Otherwise it’s just a picnic and we’ll all leave early.”
Willow tilted her head. “Besides, don’t you want to show the team you’re not secretly a spreadsheet in human form? ”
Ben arched his eyebrows. “Tempting pitch.”
“And obviously it’s not as if anyone has ulterior motives about pairing people up during wilderness activities,” Raj added with false sincerity.
Willow kicked him.
Ben sighed and closed his laptop. “You’ve all clearly been planning this.”
“Nooo,” they chorused, way too quickly.
Chloe glanced over to Franco, who sipped his coffee and smiled like a man who had nothing to hide. Which, even in Ben’s limited experience of the man, usually meant he was up to something.
Ben crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll go. But if this turns into some half-arsed Survivor reboot, I’m cutting the budget for team drinks.”
Willow gave an exaggerated salute. “Understood. All activities will be safe, consensual, and only mildly humiliating.”
Franco watched Ben from over the rim of his mug. “Looking forward to seeing you… unwind.” The murmur was just loud enough to be audible.
Ben met his eyes. There was something dangerously unreadable in Franco’s gaze, as though he’d just moved his knight three steps forward in a game Ben hadn’t realised they were playing.
Ben turned away before he could react. “Someone book the bloody thing, then. And no matching t-shirts.”
From behind him, the staff erupted into cheers.
Beside him, Franco chuckled. “Oh, come on. You’d look good in navy.”
Ben didn’t reply, but a muscle in his jaw ticked.
Judging by the twinkle in Franco’s eyes, he’d seen it.