21. Chapter 21
Benson
Is this how I made Avery feel when we were in Florence?
Like I’ve been picked up by a whirlwind and am on the ride of my life whether I want to be or not?
I tend to be a pushy person as it is, but I took a lot of pleasure in nudging Avery to do things she wouldn’t have done on her own, and there’s a chance I may have been a bit heavy-handed.
Or maybe a lot heavy-handed, which would explain why Avery is not holding back this morning.
This is an experience I’m not sure I’ll survive. The woman next to me is fearless, funny, and flirty, and she knows it.
And I have never been more attracted to her.
The instant I got off the call with the designer, Avery was at Eric’s office door, her purse at the ready and a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Though I half-heartedly suggested I should stay at the office in case anyone came in, she didn’t have to try hard to convince me to join her and practically dragged me to her car, asking me rapid-fire questions that were so unconnected to each other that I answered each one almost by reflex.
Which high school did you go to?
Did you have any pets growing up?
What’s your favorite late night snack?
What kind of workouts do you do?
It has been twenty minutes of nonstop inquisition, and the questions are likely only the start of things. I have no idea where she’s taking me or if we’re even checking out Little Free Libraries, but I have next to no motivation to do something about it. I’m here for the ride, whirlwind be damned.
“So you grew up in Logan, right?” Avery asks as she pulls into a coffee shop parking lot. “What do you miss most?”
While I’m grateful for the coffee stop, since I didn’t get to drink my last cup, I’m less grateful for this subject. The other topics were easy. This one is anything but that. “Not much,” I mutter as I slip out of the car.
“You don’t miss anything about Utah?”
“Utah, sure. But not Logan.”
“What’s wrong with Logan?”
Nothing except for unmet expectations and a childhood full of being told I’m a disappointment and an enigma.
Holding the door open for Avery, I pierce her with a stare that is meant to intimidate her but lacks any strength because I’m so tired. “What are you doing?”
She stops and looks up at me, her expression falsely innocent. “What do you mean?”
I sigh. “What’s with all the questions? I’m trying to keep a professional distance between us, and you—”
“If you call what happened in the storage closet professional, I’m worried about how you treat your other clients.”
Narrowing my eyes, I try to come up with some kind of argument. I come up blank. I have definitely never held a client’s hand before or looked at her like she was the oasis in my desert. I’ve certainly never come close to kissing a client.
Avery keeps talking. “I’m trying to get to know you, Benson.
” Folding her arms, she gives me the kind of look I was trying to give her just now, only hers is effective and makes me shift back half an inch.
“Do you always hide behind surface level?” She pauses, her expression softening as she adds, “Doesn’t that get lonely? ”
If she had stuck with the surface level question, I could have denied it.
I could have told her I’ve made friends all across the country.
While that’s true, her second question proves she knows me better than I thought.
Eric got the full me, back when I was desperate for connection, and Riccardo is my closest friend more recently because he’s the kind of person who naturally encourages vulnerability and honesty. But beyond those two?
Not many people know me.
I didn’t dislike that until right now, when I’m looking down into the warm brown eyes of a woman who has been tempting me to be open since the moment she cried next to me on the plane.
Avery’s obviously waiting for an answer, standing firm in the doorway and blocking someone’s exit, so I mutter a lame response that doesn’t answer her question. “It’s easier,” I say and nudge her inside.
She scoffs as she gets in line. “For whom?”
I can’t help but chuckle, grateful for the distraction from the realness of our conversation. “Did you just say whom ?”
“It’s the right word.”
“Maybe, but no one says it.”
Rolling her eyes, she fiddles with her purse with the look of someone formulating a plan to keep me talking, which means I didn’t deflect anything at all.
All my teasing accomplished was reminding me how much I like this woman.
A rock settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I really like her, and it’s getting harder to remember my goals and the reasons I need to keep things casual.
“Where did you grow up?” I grind out, desperate for a topic that doesn’t involve me and will last longer than a few seconds.
She looks up, narrowing her eyes. “South Jordan.”
“So we’re in your stomping grounds?” I try to picture Avery spending all her time in this area, though I don’t know the west side of the valley all that well.
The University of Utah, where I went to school, is on the east side, and Eric’s family has always lived south of here, in Lehi.
So while I’ve spent plenty of time on the freeway that splits the Salt Lake Valley, there was never a reason to come out West.
Strange, living twenty-two years in the same state and never exploring parts of it that aren’t all that far away. If this were a place like Florence, I would have seen most of the valley by now.
“What’s your coffee order, Benson?” Avery asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I stumble over my answer. “Oh, uh, iced Americano?”
“Is that a question?”
It wasn’t until she asked that, even if my tone was uncertain. I can’t hold back my amused smile. “Are you judging my coffee choices, Avery Grace?”
Though she fights her smile, her lips curve upward. “Maybe. But only because it’s the most boring order in the world. And I thought you were exciting.”
I fold my arms, lifting one eyebrow. “Well, what’s your order?”
“Cappuccino, obviously.”
I snort. “That made sense in Italy, but here? It’s a million degrees, and you’re basically one foam heart away from being a romcom cliché.”
“What’s wrong with that? At least I’m not boring like someone I know.”
“Eric?” I wrinkle my nose. “You’re right. He’s incredibly boring, and you dodged a bullet there.” Her answering laugh almost distracts me from the fact that she’s handing over her card. I realize just in time and grab her wrist. “I’ve got this.”
Her playful scowl loosens the rock in my chest. “I can buy you coffee, Benson.”
“I know you can.” I hand the cashier my card, still gripping Avery’s arm. “But until we get your salary fixed, I’m not letting you pay for anything.”
She snickers. “It’s a company card, Bens.”
Bens . I like when she calls me that, just like I like touching her.
Wrapping my fingers around her wrist isn’t in any way romantic, but I held her hand in the storage closet this morning, and that reminder of how it felt to hold her in Florence has left my palms feeling itchy.
Any point of contact I get sends a shock of electric current through me.
I drop her arm and clear my throat. “Even so, I’ve got the coffee.”
“Fine. Then R&Q will pay for lunch.”
A swear slips off my tongue, making Avery laugh again. She’s going to be the death of me. “You’re going to make professional distance impossible, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” The amusement in her eyes, combined with a bright smile, makes her look so alive and happy. “You set the tone in Italy. Now it’s my turn.”
I have to stick to my guns. I have to . Letting myself think I can have this—have her —is only going to make things harder when I have to leave.
If I thought it was hard to walk away in Florence, that’s going to feel like a walk in the park compared to what’s coming.
Because Avery’s going to make me know her.
She’s showing me the parts of her I didn’t let myself know before, and each new thing I learn about her makes her all the more interesting. All the more beautiful.
I can’t fall for her, but I’m pretty sure it’s already too late.