Chapter 6
Chapter Six
PAIGE
BEFORE
“I’m jealous,” I say from my perch on Benji’s workbench. It’s tall enough that I’ll need to jump to get down. “I didn’t realize there was so much money in frames that you could close by lunch.”
With the money he’s making from commissions, he could spend most of his week anywhere else, and yet it doesn’t stop him. Every day, without fail, he’s here, tinkering away at a project in his workshop.
I figure he must get lonely over here by himself, which is why I make the effort to come over at lunch every other day.
Shut up, Skye. There’s no other reason.
“Sometimes, the materials I use are pricier,” he says. “And sometimes, a rich asshole comes in here and gets charged extra.” He’s bent over the piece he’s working on, running a finger over the edge, eyeing an imperfection I can’t see.
God, he’s gorgeous. Every time I look at the veins on the back of his hands, I feel feral. I could write a novel on everything I want those hands to do to me. Six seasons and a movie.
Benji straightens and holds his hand out. “Can you pass me the flat file?”
I can’t see what he’s pointing at. “Um …”
“This one,” he says gently, shifting closer and reaching past me.
His waist slots in perfectly between my thighs, and suddenly, all I want is to lie down while he drapes his weight over me. Pressing down on me. Surrounding me completely.
He steps away, and I don’t speak for a full count of ten while I try to get my heart to slow down.
“Sorry. I skipped woodwork in school. I took an extra English lit class instead.”
“Oh?”
I watch his arms tense and release as he works, laser-focused. After a couple of passes, he stops, tests the grain with his fingers, and decides if it needs more or not. It’s mesmerizing.
“Yeah,” I say, unused to the silence. There’s always noise over at our shop.
“Though the teacher regretted accepting me. Skye and I were always getting in trouble for talking in class. One time, he actually made me stand at the front to tell everyone what was so important that I had to interrupt the lesson. We were studying the book Big Town Blue. Did you ever read that?”
Benji shakes his head.
“I’m not surprised,” I say, swinging my legs. “It’s pretty old. They made it into a movie in the ’60s, which is surprisingly good. It really amps up the tension from the novel. Don’t bother looking for it though. It’s, like, impossible to find.”
I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Fuck. It’s just so quiet, and he’s so hot.
Filing complete, Benji takes a strip of sanding paper and starts working into and around the grooves of his work.
I think I could stare at him for hours. Usually, he’s so …
closed off, jaw tight and something shuttered behind his eyes, like everything he’s feeling is underlined by a little bit of melancholy. Skye calls it his “sad boy” face.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat, “what was I saying?”
His eyes glimmer with humor when he looks up. “You were trouble as a kid.”
“Right,” I say, then stop. “No, I wasn’t trouble.”
The smile he directs my way could singe the hair of a cat. Double fuck.
“Don’t be shy. I like it.”
My heart is beating so loudly in my ears; there’s no way he can’t hear it.
“What I was trying to say,” I continue because if I don’t keep talking, I’m probably going to do something mortifying, like kiss him, “is that he tried to trip me up by making me stand at the front of the class, but if he’d been listening, he would have known I was making a point about how much better the villain’s monologue was in the book than the movie.
I mean, obviously, they were going to cut it down for the film—it goes for, like, a page and a half—but it hits harder in the novel. ”
“Did he agree?”
“Not even a little bit.” I giggle. “So, I recited the whole monologue to the class to prove my point. Skye and I were in detention for a week.” It was worth it though. “I like to think it still bothers him that I got an A in that class.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says.
“I mean, at least he didn’t flunk me. Wait, why doesn’t that surprise you?”
“Because everything about you is impressive.”
Oh.
“Okay, I’m done.” He sets the piece aside, and I watch quietly as he puts each tool neatly back in its place.
Skye and I thrive in chaos, but it’s sweet how careful he is with his work.
Benji returns with a brush, a small tin, and a serious expression. “I need to finish this with a hard wax oil. You’d better move away from there; this stuff is potent.”
I think I can handle it. “Strong smells are kind of my job.”
He catches my eyes. His attention is a physical thing; it touches and tingles along my skin. Across my collarbone. Along my wrists. Between my thighs.
“I know, but just in case.”
I nod, and Benji grips my waist as he helps me down, the heat of his hands a brand through the thin cotton of my tank top.
He waits until I’ve moved away, and then all of his focus is on his work. He dips the brush before passing long, confident strokes to coat the wood. A furrow has formed between his brows, and when he turns his head to inhale, I realize it’s strain.
Maybe I am trouble, but I’m too curious to hold my breath. Years of experimenting mean that Skye and I have mixed up some truly awful combinations, so I’m expecting the worst, but while the smell is noticeable, it’s not offensive.
“Sorry,” he says when he’s finished. “It’s a lot.” He moves quickly, flicking a switch on the wall. The overhead fans whir faster and louder, surrounding us in a deep hum. “Is that better?”
Benji looks so relieved when he breathes in that I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s mild to me.
“Much better,” I tell him. “You should play music in here,” I say. “The acoustics would be amazing.”
He walks the finished piece to a rack along the back wall. “I like the quiet. It helps me concentrate.”
“I’m the opposite.”
Benji catches my eye from across the shop and smiles. “I’ve noticed. I like seeing you in your element. You look good.”
I blush.
It doesn’t matter if it’s Rachmaninoff, the Four Tops, or the latest summer hit; we listen to it all. I don’t think we’d get as much done if we weren’t tapping our feet and singing along.
Suddenly, he’s in front of me. “Seeing you is the best part of my day.”
“Mine too,” I admit in a whisper.
The quiet drags out as he looks at me, content to let our words linger in the silence.
Is this what he means about concentrating?
Music has always been the soundtrack to the important moments in my life, but right now, I’m glad there’s nothing else because I can hear every time Benji exhales, the eager thump of my heart in my chest as he steps closer, bringing the rich, earthy smell I can’t associate with anyone but him.
What does he see when he looks at me?
His gaze dips down to my lips, and I could swear my heart stops. Is he …? No, he couldn’t be. He’s so beautiful, and I’m just … me.
“I should probably go,” I rasp, even though leaving is the last thing I want to do. “If Skye is alone with customers for too long, she starts planning to burn the place down for the insurance money.”
I back out of the workshop, and Benji leans against the doorframe.
“I don’t think it works that way anymore,” he teases.
“All the more reason to get over there.”
It isn’t until I’m back on my side of the alleyway that it hits me. Specifically, the thousand and one smells that make up our shop hit me, all at once. If Benji thinks his wax is strong, then this place must …
Oh.
Wow. I always wondered why he jolted to a stop every time he walked in, but he’s never said anything, and he’s over here just as often as I’m over there.
Skye melts with relief when she sees me, already slinking back into the studio, but I catch her arm.
“Hey, can we maybe take a break with the incense for a while?”
“Yeah, of course. You want to start using oils or something?”
“No, I don’t. Look, he hasn’t said anything, but I think Benji has an aversion to smells. Strong ones, I mean.”
“Ahhh,” she says, dragging it out. “All right, we’ll let my overwhelming sexuality fill the room instead. Can’t put your man off coming here.” She winks.
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate walking through your raw musk every day.”
Skye throws her head back on a laugh. “Babe, it’s not my musk he’s chasing.”
The front door chimes, and both our heads snap over. It’s Benji. His cheeks are a little pink, like maybe he ran over here. He wavers in place for a moment, a little tic in his jaw the only indication that anything is amiss. I can’t believe I never noticed it before.
“Hi,” I say.
Benji shoves both hands in his pockets. “Hey.”
“Hello,” Skye adds because she’s a menace.
He nods. “Skye.”
“Benji.” She crosses her arms and plants her feet, clearly ignoring all the silent pleas I’m sending her to go away, please.
Benji’s gaze pins mine. I’ve seen chocolate cakes less sinful than his smile. “Paige.”
Oh my God, I’m going to kill them both.
“Did you forget something?” I ask him, my cheeks flooding with heat.
“Yes. They’re showing Big Town Blue at the Revival Hall tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
Just like that, he asks me out. Like it’s nothing. As if I haven’t been hoping and wishing and giving myself a pep talk every day for the past month, trying to ask him myself. I’ve been driving Skye mad with it.
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean, that sounds good.” This is so embarrassing.
“Great.”
He slips out the door again. I watch every step he takes back to his shop.
“Aw, you two are so cute. It’s like watching a bulldog court a kitten.”
I shove at Skye’s shoulder. “Get back to your cauldron, witch.”
Her exaggerated cackle scares the old man in the corner of the shop, who huffs and leaves, but I can’t even be mad because I have a date. A date!
With Benji.