Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
PAIGE
BEFORE
April is counted by seventeen-point-two moments with Benji and one maddening council meeting. The point-two is less an encounter with him and more a prolonged swoon from the register while Benji helps unload slabs of wood from a delivery truck.
“Just go,” Skye says, spinning on a stool beside me. It’s her day to man the register. “We both know you want to.”
“I was just there at lunch.”
“Oh no,” she deadpans. “Then he might think you like him.” She slumps over the counter. “I’m begging you both to please stop dancing around each other. It’s been months since you met.”
Three months, two weeks, and five days. But who’s counting?
Once the truck leaves, Benji wipes the sweat off his brow with his forearm. His hair is messy and gorgeous. I want to follow him inside and ask him if I can run my hands through it. I keep staring until the moment he disappears back into his shop.
“And my plight continues,” Skye groans.
I jab a finger in her side, and she yelps.
Things with Benji are good. We’re taking it slow.
He gets quiet sometimes, dark, but he always says he’s fine when I ask him about it. I haven’t pushed, even though I want to, because as comfortable as we are with each other—disgustingly so, if you ask Skye—things are still new between us. But we’ve got plenty of time.
I push away from the window. “I’m going to get to work on that Unicorn Bliss order. If I start now, it’ll be cured for the post office run tomorrow.”
Skye flops across the register. “Ugh, fine. But I’m only letting you hide in the back because it’ll stop you moping at the window. It’s scaring the customers away.”
“At least I don’t yell at them.”
“That was one time.”
I giggle as I walk into the studio. One time this month.
“Hey,” Skye calls out an hour later. “How would a snake even hold a newspaper anyway?”
I’m mid-pour, so all I can do is yell back, “Should I know what you’re talking about?”
There must be a customer because Skye doesn’t appear, instead continuing the conversation from the other room.
“People own snakes as pets, right? So, do you think they teach them the same tricks as dogs? Stay. Roll over.” She laughs. “That one would be easy. Fetch?”
I smile down into the wax. When it reaches an inch below the full height of the glass, I start the next one. “How would they hold anything? Do they stick it on their fangs or wrap their tail around it and drag it?”
There’s a pause.
“I vote drag. Then they can see where they’re going.”
“Maybe we should get a pet,” I say, filling another glass. Nineteen down, eleven to go. “We could finally enter DockDogs.”
“What the hell are DockDogs?”
Benji’s voice is much, much closer than I expected. If I wasn’t already jumping from his sudden appearance, I would when his hands cup my elbows, saving me from spilling wax over the counter.
“Thanks,” I say, breathless.
“Benji’s here, by the way,” Skye singsongs, like she guessed my reaction from the other room. The minx.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I deadpan and turn to face him.
He’s close enough that I can follow the curve of each lash as he blinks. God, his eyes. I could make a home there, if he’d let me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Shop’s quiet.” He must mean his because I can hear at least three people talking from the shop floor. “What are DockDogs?”
“Oh. It’s an aquatic sport for dogs, where they see how far they can jump off a dock. The Belle hosted the world championship last year.”
“There’s a world championship for DockDogs?”
I shrug. “Why not? It’s fun.”
“And it’s your dream to win one day?”
“You don’t think I could?”
“I didn’t say that.” He doesn’t add anything, just keeps smiling at me.
I set the pouring pot down on the counter, a safe distance from the edge. It’ll keep for a minute, but even if it cools, I can reheat it. Benji is too distracting to try and multitask right now.
“Skye and I spent our whole childhood at the beach.” It was the easiest and cheapest way to keep us occupied, and we were obsessed from the start.
All my best memories smell of salt and sand.
“I think we spent a whole year with pruny toes. Sometimes, I think she still has water sloshing between her ears.”
“I heard that,” comes her reply.
Benji chuckles when I laugh, and it’s so beautiful that I have to look away. “Anyway, we were there for the inaugural competition. I must have been, what, nine, at the time? And every time they come back, we talk about going.”
“You grew up here, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, California born and raised. You?”
“Illinois. Family’s still out there.”
“What brought you out here?”
“I needed a change.”
He doesn’t say much more, and I remind myself it’s not nice to pry. One day, he’ll let me in—I can feel it.
“I’ve never been to Illinois, but the weather here is hard to beat.”
“And the company,” he says, and even though the intense rose oil is thick in the air, he bears it, leaning in until his nose grazes mine.
My lips part on a gasp, and he captures them with his own in a gentle kiss that sweeps the floor out from under me. He’s so capable, so guarded, that I never expected this much tenderness, but it pours into me with each press of his mouth and the slow drag of his hands through my hair.
It’s a new side of him, and I only want more.