18. Chapter 18 #2
Benson folds his arms, making his white shirt strain against the ridges of his body.
There are suddenly so many other questions I want to ask him, like what his workout routine is like and if he likes living out of hotels and what he does when he leaves the office at the end of the day.
I want to know if he has any siblings and if he’s ever played a competitive sport and why he chose consulting out of all the things he could be doing with his life.
“We were paired for a project together our freshman year,” he says, surprising me with the response.
He doesn’t look happy to be talking about his life, but it’s nice to see he knows me well enough to know I won’t let him brood in silence while we wait for our food.
He’s picking his battles, telling me that Eric is one of the safer topics of conversation.
I wave my hand, urging him to continue.
With a sigh, his arms relax and he keeps talking. “I drove Eric nuts because I didn’t care about the assignment and kept focusing on a different side of the topic we were supposed to be researching.”
I vaguely remember Eric telling me about how he met Sonny, how this eighteen-year-old kid with boundless energy taught him so much patience. “You failed the project,” I say when Benson falls silent.
Nodding, he lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Eric was furious and wouldn’t look at me in class after that.
But then he stopped me on campus a few weeks later and asked for help on an assignment in one of his other classes because he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was supposed to be doing, and he figured since I had a different way of looking at things, I might be able to understand it.
It was…nice. To be seen that way.” He shakes his head, his eyes distant, like he forgot about that moment when Eric cornered him after class.
“I was failing a couple of my classes, so he offered to help me study in exchange, and we figured out that we balanced each other out pretty well. He kept me on track, and I helped him think outside the box and brought some fun into his life.”
This feels different from the way Eric told it, though I can’t put my finger on why. “So you decided to be roommates after that?”
He nods. “Yep. Stayed with his family a lot too. Best friends until I got a job out of state and we fell out of touch.”
Of all the questions I could ask to continue the conversation, I want most to ask about his family and why he spent so much time at Eric’s house instead of his own, but something tells me I shouldn’t push him too hard.
He proved in Italy that he can be as stubborn as me, so I’m going to have to take a more delicate approach.
“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Now tell me about the time you almost got him arrested.”
The smile that breaks across Benson’s face lights the whole restaurant, telling me I made the right choice. “He told you about that?”
I shrug. “Briefly, and only because he accidentally let it slip one night when we were hanging out with some of his college friends.”
“That night was wild.”
I lean forward, matching his smile and loving the way he fully relaxes across from me when I do. “Tell me everything.”
I could talk to Benson for hours. When the subject is only marginally personal, he talks easily, like he did in Italy, and I think he’s glad to let out some frustrations when it comes to Eric.
He doesn’t say anything outright about his thoughts on the conference nonsense, but I’m pretty sure he’s on my side of things, which boosts my mood significantly.
He tells me about all the stupid stuff he did in college and how often Eric had to bail him out of trouble, and he talks about how instantly Lynda accepted him as part of the family without asking questions.
Now that I know what his job is, when we get on the subject of other places he’s traveled, he goes into a lot more depth than he ever did in Florence, talking about some of the companies he’s consulted for.
He’s kind of amazing, going places I never would have thought to visit simply because he found someone who wanted his help. I traveled whenever I could before Eric, but not the way Benson does it. I was a tourist. He’s an explorer.
No wonder he knew the best way to experience Florence.
When I buy him a slice of berry cheesecake, hoping he’ll keep talking for another hour or so, he finally shuts his mouth and narrows his eyes at me. “Are you plying me with non-chocolate dessert, Avery Grace?”
I put on an innocent expression. “Why would I do that when you’ve been blabbering just fine on your own?”
“Don’t you have enough dirt on your business partner to last a lifetime?”
I do, but that’s not why I want him to keep telling me stories.
I’m learning so much about him, things I never could have guessed and things he probably doesn’t realize he’s been telling me.
Like, now I know that he has a habit of including other people in conversations, especially when they’re on the edge of a group.
Now I know he is serious when he needs to be and always honest, even when it’s to his detriment.
I put my chin in my hand, elbow on the table, and smile at him. “I can never have enough dirt on Eric, but I like the way you tell stories, Benson.”
His lips twist in a smirk that only sort of masks his surprise. “You do?”
“Of course. I thought the same thing in Florence when you were giving me fake history lessons.”
Snorting a laugh, he shakes his head at me as if he isn’t sure what to do with that admission. “Not all of my history lessons were fake.”
“True, but the fake ones were way more fun than the real ones. Which makes me wonder how many of these consulting stories of yours are exaggerated because you can’t help but flirt with me.”
“I haven’t been flirting with you.”
Sure he hasn’t. This man’s default setting is flirtatious. “So sitting and talking to me for three hours is something you do with all your clients?”
He swears, smile dropping as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He grits his teeth and starts typing while every ounce of happiness disappears from his expression.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Obviously.”
“It’s…” He scowls as he finishes typing, then shakes his head. “I was supposed to meet with a potential client tonight, and I totally forgot.”
“This late?” It’s almost nine.
“The company’s in Australia.”
Crap. That sounds like a big deal. “Is it too late to have the meeting?” I ask as guilt settles in. It’s my fault that he missed it, since I’m the one who convinced him to join me for dinner.
He shrugs. “If I didn’t have to grab my laptop, maybe I could make it work, but I left it at Rose & Quill.”
“Oh. I’m sor—”
“Don’t.” He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, which catches me so off guard that I freeze.
As much as we’ve been talking over the last few hours, there has been zero physical contact.
In fact, I’ve barely touched Benson since Italy, and he feels so familiar that it hurts.
“It’s not your fault. I let myself get distracted.
” Something burns in his gaze, like there’s more he wants to say, but when his phone buzzes on the table, he breaks our contact and starts reading, his shoulders falling. “Well, lost that chance…”
He may have said it’s not my fault, but I’m not sure I agree with him. “They won’t let you set up another meeting time?”
“It’s fine. I’m not hurting for clients.”
But something else is hurting him. “So this won’t cost you your job or anything?”
He chuckles, though the sound carries no amusement.
“Nah. I have more than enough to keep me busy. Too bu…” He cuts himself off and looks at me.
Was he about to say he’s too busy? Over the last several days, he’s spent as much time brainstorming with me and indulging my ideas as he has doing whatever he does as a consultant.
He hasn’t seemed to mind, but what if I’ve only been making his job harder?
“Benson.”
“I should go.” He looks up as our server arrives with the cheesecake and sets it in front of him, and a line forms between his eyebrows as he stares at the dessert.
“I, uh…” He pulls out his wallet and tosses a few bills onto the table, leaving the cheesecake behind as he slips from his chair and makes a beeline to the door.
The old Avery would let things end here.
She would recognize that she made a mistake by distracting him and let him have his space.
But I’m not that Avery anymore, nor do I want to be, and being bold tonight felt good .
Even if Benson left in a rush, he was having a good time before he remembered his meeting. He seemed happy.
He pushed me to be better in Florence. I think I need to do the same for him. Somehow.