14. Chapter 14
Avery
Avery:
SONNY IS BENSON.
Dani:
What is who?
Avery:
Sonny. The marketing guy Eric hired. It’s BENSON.
Dani:
Benson, the guy you fell in love with in Italy? That Benson?
Avery:
I did NOT fall in love with him! But yes, that one. He’s HERE. And he’s WORKING WITH ME.
Dani:
Why are you saying this like it’s a problem? Now you can either lay one on him and get a second chance romance or you can tell me what he drives and I’ll egg his car. Sounds like a winning situation either way.
Avery:
This is in no way a winning situation! And have you ever tried to clean up eggs? It’s awful.
More to the point, Benson is acting like Italy never happened and treating me like I’m nothing but his coworker!
He’s also sitting a few feet from me in my office , since the only available desk in Rose & Quill headquarters is the one Sadie sometimes uses if she’s not working from home.
It’s in my office with me because there was nowhere else to put it, and I’ve never minded sharing my space with my cousin.
Sharing with a large, overly attractive man with the most tantalizing scent that reminds me of dancing at an Italian wedding and makes me crave tiramisu?
I’m dying here.
Dani:
Do coworkers normally do that thing with the tiramisu? If so, you and I have had VERY different coworker experiences. (And I only have to clean the eggs up if I get caught…)
Avery:
NO EGGS. Besides, he’s here to make sure we don’t go under and you can keep publishing books.
Dani:
Yay for book publishing! Boo for him being a man who thinks he can lock his feelings away in a tiny little box and pretend like you’re not soulmates.
*gif of woman licking pudding off a spoon*
Avery:
We are not soulmates.
I regret telling you about the tiramisu.
Dani:
From what you told me, you two are endgame and he was totally into you, so I don’t see what the problem is here.
Avery:
He pretended not to know me, Dani. He clearly didn’t have feelings for me.
Movement catches my eye, and I look over right as Benson slides out of his suit coat, showing off his arms and shoulders—features I know better than I should.
I wondered in Italy what he did to give him that definition, but now my curiosity is worse.
How does a consultant keep up a fitness routine when he’s constantly on the road, going from business to business and living out of hotels?
At least now I know why he doesn’t commit. He’s never in one place long enough to make any promises.
My phone buzzes, pulling my attention from the care Benson takes as he drapes the jacket on the back of his chair.
Dani:
I’m calling bulls
Sorry, Mason walked in and distracted me before I finished that text. You catch my drift.
Before I can form a response, a message comes through on my computer.
Lynda:
Could you stop by my desk for a second?
I am more than grateful for the interruption. More likely than not, Lynda wants to catch up and see how I’m doing now that I’m back from my trip. Grabbing my coffee in case this turns into a long chat, I avoid looking at Benson as I head into the hall, though I can feel his eyes on me.
This is going to be the worst month of my life.
“Rough morning?” Lynda asks as I approach her desk. Her smile is warm and familiar, and I’m gladder than ever that she agreed to work with us. She is always a bright spot in my day.
I flop into the chair she keeps next to her own and sigh. “How could you tell?”
“Your shirt is backwards.”
Gasping, I look down and cringe when I realize she’s right. No wonder Eric was giving me that disappointed look. “Jet lag,” I say with a moan. “It wasn’t nearly as bad going the other direction.”
“You must have had something distracting you.” For some reason, she offers that comment with a wink, and I sit up a bit, not sure I like the knowing glint in her eyes. “How was Italy?”
I groan. “You heard everything, didn’t you?
” I tend to forget how small this office is and how well the sound carries.
It’s why Eric often takes his phone calls outside on the little balcony we share with the next office over.
I forgot about Lynda when I was arguing with Benson earlier, and we weren’t exactly quiet.
Her smile turning sympathetic, Lynda pats my arm at the same time she hands me a butterscotch from the bowl on her desk. “Tell me all about it.”
And I do. Keeping my voice low, I give her the rundown of the entire trip, starting on the plane from JFK and ending with my shock this morning.
It feels good to get it all out there without anyone throwing in comments about how I should take advantage of the hot guy while I’ve got him.
If anyone will understand why this is so complicated, Lynda will.
She was going to be my mother-in-law, after all.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, leaning my head on her shoulder and letting her wrap me in a warm hug. Her hugs are second only to my own mom’s. “Am I supposed to forget everything I felt in Florence? I don’t want to hurt Eric, but I also…”
“Oh, sweetie, Eric’s a grown man. He’ll be fine.” She says that, but her voice is full of hesitation.
I lift my head to stare at her. “I’m fully aware that, as his mom, you’re going to be biased. You can say what you mean.”
“I did say what I mean. He made his choice to give you up, and he has to live with that decision. It might hurt him for a bit, but he’ll move on, just like you did.”
Did I move on? Sure, I happily gave up all control to Benson and let him kiss me senseless multiple times, but it was just a fling. I knew it was temporary and I wouldn’t see him again.
But then he showed up. In Utah. To help my company.
Sighing, I drop my head back onto Lynda’s shoulder and breathe in her subtly floral scent.
She smells a little like the wedding did in Florence, only without the bonus of garlic and bread.
“Even if I do feel something,” I mutter, “it’s not like it can go anywhere.
He made it pretty clear where he stands. ”
“Did he?”
“You heard him.”
“I heard a man who is confused and doesn’t want to hurt his friend again.
” Lynda pushes me up again and pierces me with her mom-stare.
The one that digs in and makes you feel like you can’t hide anything, no matter how much you want to.
“I heard a man who couldn’t deny his attraction to you.
I can’t blame him. You’re wonderful, Avery, and he knows it.
But,” she pats my cheek, “Benson has always been a lost soul.”
Curious, I glance down the hall to make sure Eric and Benson are both still in their respective offices. “How well do you know him?”
“It’s been a few years since I last saw him, but when the boys were in college, he spent most of his holidays at our house.”
“Where’s his family?”
“Here in Utah.”
I frown. “So why did he stay with you?”
“Like I said. Lost. But it’s not my place to talk, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
“But you’re supposed to tell me what to do!
” I complain. I shouldn’t. I know all too well how fortunate I am that Lynda still treats me like a daughter even though Eric and I never tied the knot, and I shouldn’t push the boundaries of our relationship.
But I’m feeling as lost as Benson apparently is, and this situation is so unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with.
“Sweetie.” Lynda tugs on one of my braids. “I can’t do that, and you and I both know you’ll do the opposite of whatever I tell you.”
“I will not!”
She raises an eyebrow.
Rolling my eyes, I take a long sip of my coffee and stand.
“Fine. I’ll figure it out on my own. But don’t be surprised when I come crying to you when it all falls apart.
I don’t…” I frown. “I don’t know if I can trust myself lately.
I wasn’t myself last week, but I don’t think I was myself before that either. ”
I feel like I’ve hit two extremes—the adventurous, let-it-all-loose woman in Italy, and the strait-laced rule-follower of recent years. The Avery I want to be is somewhere in the middle, but I’m not sure how to find her.
I also don’t have time to find her. Right now, I need to focus on the company and getting us to a sustainable place.
Dani and our other authors deserve my full attention, no matter how distracting Benson is going to be.
It’s not like he’d go for a relationship, so I’m going to have to do my best to ignore him.
“How are submissions looking?” I ask at full volume. Forcing myself into work mode.
“Overwhelming,” Lynda replies with a smile. “But I think that’s a good thing. It means people want to be a part of Rose & Quill.”
It also means more to sort through to find the books that are worth our time. “Anything good?”
“I’ll email you the promising ones. You have a better eye for those than I do.”
I don’t know about that. We’ve only published a couple dozen books since we started a few years ago, and Dani’s is the only one that took off. Yeah, the others are doing better thanks to Dani’s success, but would they have thrived on their own with a more established publisher?
Sometimes I wonder why I picked a career that holds me responsible for so many people’s livelihoods, but then I can’t imagine doing anything else. This is literally my dream job.
“Yes, send them over,” I say and take another sip of coffee. “I need to catch up on emails, but I’m going to need something more fun to distract me.”
Lynda’s expression turns mischievous. “From the handsome man in your office?”
I narrow my eyes and point a finger at her. “From the more tedious work. Don’t go making more out of this than there is, Lynda Greer.”
As she laughs, I turn and head to the bathroom to fix my shirt, trying not to think about how my disheveled state could be part of the reason Benson changed his mind about me.
It’s stupid—aside from at the wedding, I wasn’t exactly all dolled up by the end of the week in Italy—but my brain wants a reason for his shift in interest. It shouldn’t matter, but…
But it really matters.
Once I look more presentable, I make my way back to my office but am stopped in the hallway outside my door by a soft question.
“How was Italy?” Eric meets my gaze from his desk, his eyebrows low and his lips pursed.
It’s the look he gets when he’s sad, and guilt pools in my stomach.
He was as excited about that trip as I was, though I don’t think he would have enjoyed the way I spent it. He would have stuck to the schedule.
I do my best to smile. “It was nice. I think you would have liked the art galleries.”
“Please tell me you ate a lot of chocolate like you planned to.”
Benson coughs behind me, making my face burn red.
Nodding, I duck my head to try to hide my blush until my face cools down. “I did, yeah. It was amazing. I brought some home, if you want to try it.”
“Only if you want to share. I know better than to get between you and your chocolate.” He smiles when I look up again, but it looks forced.
I don’t blame him. This might be the longest non-work conversation we’ve had in months, and it feels like we barely know each other.
It’s amazing how six years can fizzle away after one decision.
Tapping my finger on my coffee cup, I try to come up with something else to say but have nothing. “Well, I should get to work. Lots to catch up on.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, but his expression is still sad. He doesn’t seem angry about the trip anymore, if he ever was. Maybe he’s still unsure how to coexist, like I am. I may have gotten closure in Italy, but that doesn’t make this any easier. “I’m glad you’re back,” he adds.
I’m not sure I mean it, but I reply, “Me too.”
When I turn around and step into my office, Benson is fully focused on his computer and doesn’t acknowledge me. I know he was listening because of his well-timed cough, but if he’s going to pretend he didn’t hear that whole conversation, so am I.
It’s not until I’ve fully settled and jumped into my bursting email inbox that he speaks. “There’s only one good way to enjoy chocolate,” he murmurs.
Heat floods through me, and though I turn to glare at him, he doesn’t look at me. But there’s the slightest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips, a bit of the flirty side of Benson coming out to play.
What am I supposed to do with that?