25. Chapter 25
Benson
At some point you’d think I’d learn. Flirting over text is bad. Flirting at the office is bad. Flirting in Avery’s house while sorting books is very, very bad.
I’ve been ignoring the clock on my phone as it keeps creeping toward midnight.
I’ve been ignoring the sting of exhaustion behind my eyes despite desperately needing to get more than one good night’s sleep a week.
I’ve been ignoring the phone call I got this afternoon from the company in Australia, who told me the consultant they hired backed out of the job and they will do whatever it takes to get me to work with them starting next week.
My attention has been entirely on Avery. On the way she lights up every time I ask her about a book. She hasn’t read everything in her library, and yet even the books she hasn’t read bring a sparkle to her eyes as she tells me who recommended them or why the covers convinced her to buy them.
It’s clear this is one of Avery’s passions and she was meant to work in books, and I can’t fault Eric for following her into a career he never would have chosen for himself had he not met her.
If I didn’t have an established business and the looming potential of turning it into something more, tonight’s bookshelf adventure would have convinced me to follow Avery to the ends of the publishing world.
I thought I discovered the “real” Avery in Florence when I coaxed her out of her strict schedule, but I’m starting to think I was wrong.
I saw hints of her, of course, when architecture surprised her or she tasted something delicious, but it wasn’t until tonight that I finally saw what makes her tick and brings her joy.
She is a woman who loves the human experience in all its forms.
“And that’s why everyone should read Peter Pan as an adult,” she says, finishing her explanation of why Disney’s movie doesn’t do the book justice.
She adds another book to a stack on an overflowing shelf and frowns when she needs to find a place for another book.
I’ve already rearranged the books for her three times because I could see in her eyes that she wasn’t satisfied with the current setup, but now we’re at a point where she’s simply out of space.
“You were right,” I admit.
“I’m always right.” She smirks at me as she sends my words back to me. “But what was I right about this time?”
“You need another shelf.”
She sighs and nods. “I really do. But then I’ll have to reorganize everything again, so maybe I should shift things now and plan ahead.”
When she reaches up, ready to pull a whole stack of books from a shelf above her head, I’m exhausted just thinking about moving these books again.
And Avery was already tired to begin with after the day she had today.
So before she can get a firm grip on the books, I grab her around the waist and drag her from the shelves.
Unfortunately, I misjudge the size of the room and topple backward onto the massive armchair in the corner, bringing Avery with me. We sink into the cushion, much deeper than I anticipate, and I already know this was a bad move.
“This is comfier than I expected,” I murmur, all too aware of my arms holding Avery pressed to my chest when I should be letting go.
She wiggles a little, like she wants to get free, but instead of getting up when I loosen my grip, she adjusts herself to sit at an angle, her head tucked under my chin and her legs over mine.
It’s a big enough chair that she isn’t sitting on me anymore, which makes this spot all the more comfortable.
“I’ve shared this chair a lot over the years,” she murmurs, “but never like this.”
Ugh, she’d better not tell me this was her make-out chair with Eric.
Giggling, she lifts her hand to stroke my jaw. “You just got all tense. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. Sadie, Dani, and I used to sit and read in this chair when we were kids.”
“I can live with that.” My hand moves to her thigh, tracing circles on the soft skin above her knee. She changed into sleep shorts soon after the great book migration began, and I am very glad she did.
Boundaries, Benson . But boundaries are impossible to remember when I am too exhausted to think about anything but her warm fingers scraping against the scruff on my face.
The way the heat of her body keeps my heart at a rhythm I can’t sustain if I want to live to see thirty-six.
How she smells like vanilla and peaches.
Avery’s hand slides from my face to my collar, then down my chest and stomach, resting on my abs and making me flex on instinct.
She’s bold, like her favorite books, and I don’t know how much longer I can resist the pull I feel toward her.
It’s all too easy to forget my solid reasons for maintaining distance when everything about being near her feels so good.
It’s been a while since I felt the same passion she exudes when it comes to books. Her enthusiasm is what drew me to her in Italy too, like I have this underlying desperation to absorb her excitement about the world around her so I can feel that way again.
“Thanks for your help,” she says, her voice low. “I never would have gotten those shelves moved on my own, which is why I’ve been living in limbo.”
“You’re welcome to my brawn any time.” For the next few days , I don’t add.
If I agree to take on the Australian company like I know I should, I can give R&Q three more days at most. That’s enough time to make a solid plan of action, and Avery is perfectly capable of implementing the ideas she’s had.
But I’ve barely come to terms with knowing I can only be around Avery for a couple more weeks, and leaving her sooner brings an ache to my chest. I’m leaving either way , I remind myself and mentally run through the reasons I can’t be with Avery to begin with, hating each one.
Seeing her in her element has made it clear Avery is exactly where she’s supposed to be, so I could never ask Avery to leave her life here. Worse than that, I spend so little time in my own home that I can’t have plants, let alone a girlfriend. She would never see me if she moved to New York.
And me relocating here? Eighty percent of my clients are East Coast companies, and if I lock in this company in Australia, I can use their influence and connections to build my clientele around the world.
I’ll finally be able to bring on others to take some of my load and give me new challenges to spice things up.
But I can’t leave the East Coast if I do that.
If I choose not to scale up, not many companies west of the Mississippi can afford or need a consultant like me, so if I moved back to Utah, most of my time would either be spent in New York or in California and cities like Seattle, defeating the purpose of moving in the first place.
Then there’s my family… Good as I am at keeping my whereabouts on the down low, I don’t think I could keep it a secret if I moved into the same state as them, and that would be miserable for everyone involved.
My mom already guilts me enough, and my brothers wouldn’t hesitate to use the opportunity to show me how much better they are than me.
Building a whole consulting firm is the only thing that would bring me to an even playing field for the first time in my life.
There’s too much standing in my way for me to win.
Either I sacrifice the one thing in my life that I’m proud of and risk reverting back to the man who can’t stick with anything to save his life, or I sacrifice this growing connection to Avery and lose the only person who truly seems to see me, hurting her in the process.
“I should go,” I say, hearing my own reluctance despite everything.
Avery shakes her head against my chest. “Not yet.”
“Avery.”
“Just sit with me for a minute, okay? I’m not ready for tonight to end.”
Neither am I, which is why I don’t fight her. I simply tell myself I have five more minutes as I hold her closer, memorizing the feel of her in my arms and wishing I knew a way we both could get what we want.
I wake with a start, blinking against the lights overhead as vague remnants of my dream slip away. Something about drowning in sand while my brothers laugh at me. Taking a breath, I try to remember where I am at the same time I recall who is fast asleep in my arms.
A curse slips from my tongue. I thought falling asleep on the phone with a woman was bad, but falling asleep with Avery pressed to my chest… I curse again, mentally scrambling for a way out of this situation.
“Bad word,” Avery mumbles, only half conscious.
“This was your fault.”
It wasn’t her fault. Not entirely. I could have left at any point, but I chose to fall asleep in a chair that, while surprisingly comfortable, is not meant to be slept in by a grown man and woman.
I have no idea what time it is other than later than I’d like it to be.
I might not be able to leave this chair, depending on how long I’ve been sitting in the same position.
I shift my arm to reach for my phone in my pocket, and Avery lets out a little whimper of complaint that makes me snicker. “Okay, you’re being ridiculous now. I stayed, didn’t I?”
She lifts her head to meet my gaze, eyes so focused on me that I can’t look away. “Why did you stay?” she asks, her words so quiet that I barely hear them.
Because I have no self-control. Because watching the way you see the world makes everything brighter.
Because the more I learn about you, the more I don’t want to go through life without you.
“Because you asked me to,” I say, deciding to keep things simple.
I don’t know what to do with the other thoughts that just ran through my head.
She reaches up and brushes my jaw. “I’m glad you did.”
Finally reaching my phone, I pull it out and wince. We were asleep for a couple of hours. “It’s two in the morning.”
Avery groans. “I don’t like that.”