6. Chapter 6
Benson
Distance. Emotional distance. It has to be my best friend right now or I might be walking myself right into the sort of attachment I’ve spent my life trying to avoid. But Avery is not making it easy on me as she admires yet another Florentine building.
I still don’t know anything about her, but she has somehow made herself the most interesting part of Florence. All we’ve done is wander the city—my all-time favorite way to explore—but she has this way of seeing everything that gives her a sort of childlike quality.
Whoa. No. Definitely not that. I’m not looking at this woman like I would a child.
She’s…innocent? Still not the right word. Not naive. Full of wonder .
Yeah, I guess wonderful is as good a word as any.
“Are you going to stare at me all day, or…?”
I smile wide at Avery’s question, not at all embarrassed by being caught.
Ever since we got to the Basilica di Santa Croce a few minutes ago, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her while she keeps her gaze on the sunbathed church.
I figured taking her around the city would be fun, but this is more fun than I’ve had in a long time.
Enough so that I lied to Riccardo and told him I had some work to get done this afternoon and would have to miss the winery tour everyone is doing.
Maybe it’s crazy to skip out on the whole reason I came to Italy, but this week is a vacation for me, just like it is for Avery.
I get so few real vacations that I want to make the most of this trip, and right now that means unabashedly admiring her.
After the things she said about me to her sister? I’d be an idiot not to take my shot.
“Are you going to spend all day with me?” I ask instead of answering her question.
Tilting her head to one side, she looks from me to the basilica as crowds of people wander around us.
People I’ve barely given any thought to even though I usually pay attention to who’s around me.
As far as I’m concerned, we’re completely alone in the square.
“I guess that depends on if you know of more places like this.”
Did she really plan to spend all afternoon in an art gallery?
I have nothing against art and the talent it takes to make it, but as soon as she told me her plans, my gut knew Avery wanted something more substantial.
My guess is the gallery was her ex’s idea and non-refundable, like her flights.
The moment she said she was going to the Uffizi, the light in her eyes dimmed.
Sure, the gallery has its own architectural points of interest, but nothing compares to places like this.
The contrasting colors on the facade of the church are the epitome of Florentine vistas.
“Are you kidding?” I say and bump my shoulder into Avery’s. “Have you forgotten this is Florence? You can’t walk a block in this city without running into something beautiful.” Especially if you’re walking with someone like Avery .
Whether she catches my unspoken thoughts in my expression, Avery blushes and tucks an arm around herself. “For the record,” she says, waving toward the basilica, “this was on my itinerary.”
“For the record, it would have been a lot less fun if you’d come here without me.”
“We’re just standing here, Benson. I have a tour scheduled.”
Then I’d better make this more interesting.
Slinging an arm around her shoulders, I nudge her a few steps closer to the building, where a group has gathered around a tour guide who’s talking about the building’s design.
I bend down and speak in Avery’s ear. “There are a bunch of old dead guys inside that everyone likes to talk about.”
She shivers, leaning into me. “That is the worst way to talk about da Vinci and Dante. A bunch of old dead guys?”
I chuckle. “If you already know who’s inside, why bother putting it on your list?”
“Because I want to see it!” She waves an arm again, like that gesture speaks more than she could say with words. “I mean, look at it!”
I would, except I’m too busy looking at her as she once again becomes enraptured by the architecture.
Her light auburn hair has been slowly slipping from the bun she twisted it into this morning, and a strand of it hangs right where my hand is resting on her shoulder.
My fingers itch to start playing with that bit of hair, but I worry it will overwhelm her again if I pull a move like that.
In all honesty, there are a lot of moves I’ve been wanting to pull since running into her earlier, but she’s made it clear that my interest confuses her.
If I’m really being honest, it confuses me too.
I’m no stranger to week-long flings, but usually it’s with someone as noncommittal as me.
Based on the fact that this woman recently got out of a six-year relationship, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she is reluctant to try something casual and temporary.
What does come as a surprise is how much I’m still drawn to her.
Usually I run from her type.
But I’m helping her. She might not know that, but I’m trying to get her to come out of her shell and embrace the person she said she used to be. We’re only here for a week, so it’s not like I’m putting down roots, and this will be good for her and a challenge for me. We both win.
“What do you like about it?” I ask, doing my best to stay subtle as I breathe in her peach shampoo. I’ve asked the same question any time we’ve stopped, which has been often because Avery finds something interesting just about everywhere, from bridges to storefronts to massive Franciscan churches.
I may not know anything about her , but I’m learning what brings a smile to her face.
“I’m amazed that people can build something like this by hand,” she says without hesitation.
She’s getting better at not holding back her responses, which is wildly attractive.
There are few things sexier than confidence.
“Like, so many places use one color, but everything around here is so vivid and symmetrical and unreal. How did they build something like this?”
“If you had been listening to the tour guide, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
The glare she throws at me makes me burst into laughter and garner a few additional glares from the people at the back of the tour group. “If you weren’t such a distraction,” she hisses, “maybe I would have been able to catch some of the history!”
“Ah, but that’s one of my best talents.” Unable to resist any longer, I run the loose strand of her hair between my fingers, then brush my knuckles along the back of her neck, enjoying the way goosebumps pebble on her skin.
“I should have warned you that this adventure with me would include a whole lot of distraction.”
She throws her elbow into my side. “Benson Whatever-your-last-name-is, you are the biggest flirt I’ve ever met!”
She doesn’t remember my last name from when I said it to the receptionist at the hotel?
For some reason, that bit of anonymity sends a thrill through me.
At this point, she doesn’t know anything about me—not my job, where I’m from, why I’m here.
And I don’t know anything about her . It’s a fun game of mystery that I don’t usually get to play because most of the women I meet are connected to whatever project I’m working on, so I tend to know too much .
“I have an idea,” I say, choosing not to address her flirt comment. “You say you’re not a week-long fling kind of woman, but what if you were?”
She tenses, shifting so I’m no longer touching her. “What are you proposing? I’m not going to sleep with you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I’m both surprised by her assumption and concerned that I’ve given her that impression.
I’m flirty, but I don’t go around diving into bed with every woman I meet.
That sort of thing makes relationships too messy, and I don’t need messy in my life.
“Definitely not proposing that. Contrary to movies and stereotypes, not every man is out for sex. I’m not opposed to a kiss or two…
” I cannot stress enough how not opposed to that I am, and my eyes slide to her lips as if I need to make myself extra clear.
“But what I’m suggesting is you and I let things go where they go this week and keep the pressure off it all. ”
She narrows her eyes. “How?”
“I don’t know you.” I gesture toward her, then press my hand to my chest. “You don’t know me. What if we keep it that way?”
“What would be the point of that? Some non-committal make-outs and that’s it?”
She is seriously underestimating the fun of a good make-out. Still, I scoff and shake my head in mock offense. “Avery, it could be so much more than that.”
“Without getting to know each other? I doubt that. Conversation is the heart of any connection.”
“We’ve been talking for hours today,” I point out, “but neither of us has given any details. That’s what I’m proposing.
We can get to know each other, but we’ll keep the essentials out of it.
Last names, occupations, where we live. Let’s just…
” How do I explain it? I’m not doing a great job of it so far because she’s still staring at me with her eyebrows low and her shoulders tensed up.
“Let’s be ourselves. Not what the world has made us become. ”
How this is supposed to help me keep emotional distance, I have no idea, but I would be an idiot to miss this chance to spend as much time with this woman as I can.
Glancing at the basilica, Avery wraps her fingers around the strap of her purse and seems to be thinking through my suggestion. She hasn’t shut me down yet, but her skepticism is in full force on her face. “Don’t you have places to be this week, like I do?”
Just the wedding of a good friend to whom I owe a lot of my success. But that isn’t until Friday, and I’m sure he’ll understand if I skip out on a few wedding things. He didn’t think I was showing up in the first place, so it’s not like he planned on me.
“Nowhere important,” I lie, and guilt worms its way into my gut.
I shouldn’t have made the decision to work on strengthening my relationships when all it takes to turn my attention elsewhere is a kind smile and a pair of warm brown eyes.
Not brown . In the sunlight, like now, they’re a golden amber with the smallest ring of green on the outer edge.
Dang, she’s beautiful.
Avery lifts her eyebrows. “Not even with your friend? Isn’t he the reason you’re here?”
Not wanting to lie again, I nod, but I’m hesitant to tell her the reason Riccardo is here in the first place. I don’t need her unleashing the waterworks again. “He’s, uh, getting married on Friday.”
“Benson!” She whacks my arm with impressive force, angry rather than sad. “You call that unimportant?”
“Compared to spending a week with you? Sure.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not going to be the reason you miss your friend’s wedding, even if I want…” Blushing scarlet, she trails off and watches a family who stop to take a selfie in front of the church.
With a grin, I take Avery’s hand and lift it to my lips, bringing her attention back to me where it belongs. “You won’t be. That’s just one day. If you want to spend time with me, all you have to do is say so.”
“Have you always been such a flirt?”
If she were anyone else, I would tell her that I’m never this flirty and something in her has sparked to life a new side of me.
It’s a line I’ve used many times before and usually works.
But right now it feels true, at least the part about Avery sparking something inside me.
I’ve never been this entranced by a woman, and I still haven’t figured out what it is about her that intrigues me so much.
It’s more than the challenge she presents. More than her outward beauty.
“Yes,” I say, letting my smile shift to one of self-deprecation. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“Blessing for you, curse for the rest of us?”
I gasp in mock offense and pull her hand to my chest. “You wound me, Avery.”
“Someone should. I think your head is altogether too big.” But she grins and shakes her head, that lovely blush making an appearance again. “You really want to spend all week with an uptight weirdo like me?”
“Neither of those are words I would use to describe you.”
“You don’t know me, remember?”
I don’t think it will take much more persuasion to get her to join me, but I might as well pull out the big guns and list out the things I’ve learned about her so far.
I lean in, dropping my voice so she has to lean too.
“I know you love flowers and mosaics and that you enjoy romance novels and possibly are a bit of a classic literature snob on top of that. You have a thing for dogs and chocolate—not together of course—and ramble when you’re tired, even in a text.
” I lift her fingers to my lips, then reach out with my other hand to tuck the loose strand of hair behind her ear.
I have a feeling I’m going to be doing that a lot if she agrees.
“I know you’re beautiful, even when you’re crying over a guy who obviously doesn’t deserve you, and you smell like peaches and have a smile that brings your whole face to life. ”
That was too much. Avery is staring at me with wide eyes, and I don’t think I’ve ever said anything like that before—it’s enough to scare anyone off. Good work, Bens.
“Wow,” Avery whispers after a long moment. “You…” I hold my breath, waiting for her to tell me I’m a creep and she’ll be going about the rest of her trip the way she originally planned. “The only thing I know about you is that you speak Italian and aren’t a very good friend.”
I bark out a laugh, lacing my fingers through hers and lowering our hands. “I also know you have a snarky side that is majorly attractive.”
“You like when I insult you?”
“I like that you’re not afraid to say what you mean. To be yourself.”
Something about my comment hits her in a way that dims her expression, leaving her muted. “I haven’t… I don’t remember the last time I was myself.”
I knew it. There’s more to Avery than a woman who has become scared to travel.
There’s a whole different side of her, one I’ve seen pieces of and who has been making more of an appearance as the day has gone on.
I would have been interested in her anyway, but that side of her feels like the kind of person I would enjoy every moment with.
“So be you this week,” I tell her and take a few steps away from the basilica, our arms stretching out between us.
“Let loose and don’t let fear hold you back. ”
“How do I do that?” she asks. It’s not an argument against my idea, and I’m calling this a win. But I need to ease her into things.
I grin and nudge her forward so we can start walking. “You start with the most obvious.”
“Which is?”
I wink, recalling the conversation she had with her sister. “Gelato.”