20. Chapter 20
Avery
Avery:
Okay, so say Benson and I parted ways in Italy because we knew things couldn’t go anywhere when we live in different places.
But say Benson showed up here in Utah out of the blue last week because he’s Eric’s old college buddy and we hired him as a consultant for our publishing company.
And say neither of us had any idea we would see each other again until I walked into work last Monday.
And say Benson told me that we are nothing but colleagues because he’s only here for a few weeks.
But say I started flirting with Benson tonight, and we’ve been flirt texting, and he ended our conversation with this: *rock on emoji*
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???
I pace my book-strewn living room while waiting for one of my cousins to respond. I sent that text last night when they were probably all asleep, but it’s morning now, and I’m desperate for an analysis. Surely one of them has some sort of emoji hieroglyph dictionary in their brain, right?
I’m old enough that when I started texting, emojis weren’t a thing. Benson’s older than me. So either he is more versed in emoji meanings than I am, or he has no idea how to say what he wants to say.
“This is why we use our words,” I grumble at my phone.
Is it because I sent the kissy emoji? I thought it was fun and flirty, but it must have crossed the line. While I still don’t know what the “rock on” emoji means, it’s safe to assume that Benson wasn’t interested in flirting back.
I’ve delayed going to work this morning as long as I can, hoping for some assistance before I have to see Benson, but if I don’t leave in the next few minutes, I’ll actually be late.
Not that I have a set time I need to arrive—kind of the perk of owning my own company—but I’ll feel terrible if Benson is there by himself. Lynda will look after him, but—
My phone buzzes on the counter where I left it, and I leap over a pile of books to see which of my cousins is going to save me. Instead, I find a text from Lynda.
Lynda:
Hey sweetie, I woke up this morning with an awful head cold, and I’m going to need to call it a sick day. I’ll monitor customer service emails from here unless you need me to come in.
Avery:
Oh my gosh, no, please stay home! Do you need me to bring you anything?
Lynda:
Avery, honey, I don’t need you mothering me. I’ll be fine. *kissy face*
There, see? A kissy face doesn’t mean anything crazy! Then again, Lynda is of the generation who tend to use emojis completely wrong, so maybe that isn’t a point in my favor.
Groaning, I grab my keys and head out to my car.
I almost stop for a bagel to delay things more, but my conscience doesn’t let me make the turn.
I’ll have to face Benson sooner or later, now without a Lynda buffer, and I will have to find out if I can stick to my guns or if the sight of him will make me retreat.
The texts finally come in right as I’m pulling to a stop in the parking garage.
Sadie:
So the thumb isn’t extended which means it’s not an I love you… Is he a Texas Longhorns fan? I’m just as confused by that as you are. But I LOVE that you’re getting your flirt on! You go girl!
Dani:
It means he’s VERY bad at emojis. *crying laughing* You should send him one back and see what he does. Also, yay for getting your flirt on!
Poppy:
Maybe they are devil horns because he’s being bad by flirting with you??? I’m not sure I can allow you to like a bad emoji-er.
Lucy:
Umm… I’ve got nothing. I’m going with Dani and saying he’s very bad at emojis. This is better than a romance novel!!
Well that was maddeningly unhelpful. I obviously won’t get anything useful from Dani or my cousins, so I square my shoulders and head inside, my feet growing heavier with each step.
I find Benson standing in the doorway leading to the balcony, a mug of coffee in his hand and his eyes fixed on the view of the mountains.
Here in Riverton, on the west side of the Salt Lake Valley, we have a pretty good vantage point, and Benson tends to take a few minutes every day to sit and look at the Wasatch Front.
“Do you miss it?” I ask.
Benson jumps with a curse, coffee splashing from his mug onto his shirt and staining the pastel blue fabric with a large spot of brown.
“Oh!” I wince, mortified. “I am so sorry.”
“Are you always this quiet?” Exasperation makes his voice breathy, but there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he gingerly sets his mug on Lynda’s desk and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
Is he going to strip down in the middle of the lobby? I can’t decide if I love that or hate it.
“Um.” I grab a tissue and hold it out to him, but he only stares at it while he finishes with his buttons. The undershirt he has on underneath is just as soaked, and his face clearly says, It’s going to take more than that. “Hang on.”
As my embarrassment continues to intensify, leaving me dizzy and overheated, I open the closet door behind Lynda’s desk and flip on the light.
We keep a bunch of books on hand in case we need something quickly and don’t have time to head to the warehouse twenty minutes north of the office, but there should be some merch in here somewhere.
We made way more than we needed to for Dani’s first post-viral event.
“Ah ha!” I find the box I’m looking for and start digging, hoping I can find something that will fit Benson for the time being.
“What is all this stuff?”
I squeak and bang my head on the shelf above me. Though Benson grimaces sympathetically from the doorway, it only takes a second before he’s laughing. Snorting, I join in, and soon I’m laughing so hard that I have to sit down.
“Payback?” I ask when I can breathe again.
Benson, wearing only his undershirt now, smirks and shakes his head. “How petty do you think I am, Baldwin?”
Baldwin . He’s never called me by my last name before, and it feels like a wall has slid into place between us. I hate it.
I toss a shirt at him. “I wouldn’t know. You were pretty perfect in Italy, and I’m still waiting to learn more about who you really are underneath all that charm.” Oh hey, that sounded pretty good!
Eyebrows lifting, he holds the shirt up to take a look at it. “Dani’s book?” Before I can answer, he grabs the back collar of his undershirt and lifts it over his head in one swift movement.
And I am not prepared. I don’t know if anyone in the world could prepare themselves for the sight suddenly in front of me.
I knew Benson was built, and he dazzled me with his biceps all the time in Florence.
But this? Seeing the ridges of his torso without any pesky fabric to block the view?
This man is basically a Roman god. Neptune, Apollo, Mars. Any of them. All of them at once.
Benson tugs the shirt over his head, regrettably pulling it down to cover his abs. “So is all of this swag and stuff?” he asks, apparently clueless about my ogling. Thank goodness. “What sort of things do you use this for?”
“Signings and preorders, mostly.” My words come out a bit garbled even though he’s fully dressed again. Maybe it’s the fact that he opted for a pair of dark wash jeans today instead of slacks, and with the Of Curses and Pomegranates shirt and all its dark colors, his blue eyes are really popping.
It isn’t fair how beautiful this man is, especially because I still don’t have any idea what his parting emoji from last night means. What if Sadie’s comment about the “I love you” emoji is right, and he just picked the wrong one? There’s no way, but what if…?
He starts rummaging through totes and boxes, like he’s taking stock of everything we’ve shoved into the storage closet. “There’s a lot of good stuff in here.”
Including you . He’s repping that shirt so well that I want to sneak a picture and put it on our socials. He could sell everything we’ve got by standing there and looking pretty.
“I’m thinking we could do something with all of this and generate some buzz for R&Q and help get the ball rolling.
” He has a look on his face that is much like the one he had when we were talking to Phillip Rogers, like his focus has fully shifted into marketing mode.
He looks…excited. More excited than he’s ever looked.
He really loves his job.
I can’t help but smile as he gathers up a few bookmarks, a copy of Pomegranates , and a tote bag, setting them on top of a box.
He scans the shelves again and picks up a novella from a different author, as well as a couple of stickers.
“We could make it a whole social media campaign,” he mutters, practically talking to himself now.
“I could reach out to some of my contacts in other states to do the same thing, so it isn’t just here in Utah. ”
“Do what, exactly?” I ask, tilting my head.
Benson’s eyes widen, but then he grins. “Little Free Libraries,” he says, dumping all of his treasures into the tote and holding it toward me. “For one. Put swag bags in a few of them around the country and let your followers try to find them.”
That’s a pretty good idea. “And for another?”
Pulling up a box to sit next to me, Benson bites his lip as he keeps grinning. “I’ve been thinking about the R&Q brand, particularly last night.”
“Did you sleep at all?” I almost reach up and touch his face. Now that he’s up close, the dark circles under his eyes make him look exhausted. It’s worse than the day after he arrived.
“Not even a little bit,” he says with a chuckle, apparently in a great mood despite his lack of sleep. “Hence the coffee.”
“That you didn’t get to drink,” I say with a wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I’m pretty sure he means that. Or maybe he’s so tired that he has no ability to regulate his emotions and he’s stuck on happy. “Anyway, brand.”
I grin. This sleepy and excited version of Benson is fun. “What about it?”
“You’re still new enough that you don’t have something that defines you aside from being Dani’s publisher.”
“We mostly publish fantas—”