Chapter 15
“Would you like another?” The waitress at the hotel’s restaurant bats her eyelashes in the direction of my empty wineglass.
From her platinum blonde hair to her rosy cheeks, she’s eerily similar in appearance to the hot tub enthusiast working the front desk, and I get the sense this is a family-run establishment with a bunch of twentysomething siblings manning the place.
“I probably shouldn’t,” I reply. “But thank you.”
She loads my empty plate onto her forearm. “How about dessert then? We have a dark chocolate cheesecake that’s worth writing home about. Or a strawberry shortcake if that’s more your style.”
Across the table Ben’s eyes flash, a knowing grin forming on his lips. “What do you say, Ems? Strawberry is your favorite.”
It’s irritatingly charming that he remembers all these details about me. But not irritating enough that I’m willing to turn down strawberry cake out of spite. “The shortcake sounds great, thank you.”
“Anything for you, sir?” she asks Ben.
Without looking away from me, Ben says, “No, thank you. But do me a favor and bring two spoons. If I’m lucky, I can convince her to share.”
The waitress smiles politely and leaves our table, but not before shooting me a look that any woman knows to interpret as, You lucky bitch.
“An awful bold assumption, Benjamin, to think you have any shot at my dessert.”
He shrugs, grin slowly spreading. “I know the odds aren’t in my favor, but what can I say, I’ve always been an underdog.”
“Really? I always thought you were pretty good at getting exactly what you wanted.” It doesn’t occur to me what a bitchy slight that sounds like until it’s out of my mouth and Ben’s grin disappears.
“Sorry, I didn’t intend that how it sounded.
I swear that wasn’t a veiled reference to our past, I just meant that it seems like you ended up in a good place.
You’re successful. You get to travel the world. It all worked out for you.”
He nods, seemingly accepting my apology at face value. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for where I ended up, but there are definitely things I’d change about my life if given the chance.”
“Yeah, like what?”
He leans back in his chair and considers my question, one hand resting on the tabletop, thumb tapping a fast-paced rhythm.
“Well, you asked the other night about friends, and it is hard to maintain relationships when I travel all the time. I think that’s a given.
I do miss the kind of close friendships I had with Marcus and Mason. With you.”
I ignore the way those last two words make my chest ache as I clear my throat. “What about your mentor? The Dan guy who taught you everything about photography?”
Before he can answer our waitress returns with my dessert.
“Enjoy,” she tells us, setting down a ceramic bowl and two spoons before slipping off to another table in the half-full dining room.
Layers of shortcake and gooey strawberry filling overflow from the bowl in front of me. But right now, I’m more interested in what Ben’s willing to tell me, so I make no move to dig in. Neither does he.
“Dan passed away a couple years ago,” he tells me, voice flat. “Not long after my mother, actually.”
My heart seizes, compassion unexpectedly consuming me. I reach across the table and lay my hand over his, stilling his restless thumb. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”
He gives me a sad sliver of a smile. “It was a really rough six months or so.”
Once again, I get the sense there’s a lot more he isn’t saying, but also that he doesn’t want to delve into this topic any deeper.
He clears his throat and says, “Eat your dessert, Ems.”
I slip my hand away from his, but not before giving it a squeeze for comfort. Determined to erase the pain clouding his eyes, the tension clenching his jaw, I pick up a spoon and hold it out to him. “Well, after that sad news I suppose I have to share my cake now.”
My goal is accomplished when his smile breaks wide. “That was the plan all along.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, warmth filling all the places that ached moments ago. An idea occurs to me, and this time it doesn’t feel self-serving to pitch Ben on working for Around the Globe. Maybe it’s what he needs.
“I think you should consider Calvin’s job offer,” I say, and across from me Ben’s eyes roll as he scoops a bite of shortcake into his spoon.
“Just hear me out. It’s steady work and the assignments aren’t long.
You’d be partnered with a writer on every trip, so you’d get to meet lots of different people.
It could be really good for you. Give you more time at home and let you develop some routine and stability and friendships.
I mean, where are you even living right now? ”
“I’ve been staying in Hudson Springs dealing with Mom’s house, but I have an apartment in the city.”
“Uh-huh. And when’s the last time you saw it?”
Ben scowls grumpily like he knows I’ve bested him on this particular point but doesn’t want to admit it. “It’s been a little while.”
The more the idea takes shape in my head, the more convinced I am that this could really benefit Ben, which means I don’t have to feel guilty for knowing it would also benefit my career.
“Look, just consider it, okay? Even if you only did it for a little while to test it out. It wouldn’t have to be forever.”
Calvin told me to recruit Ben, he never mentioned how long he had to stay at the company.
“Eat your dessert, Ems,” Ben repeats, changing the subject.
But he didn’t say no.
I pick up my spoon and dive in, and a moan vibrates in my throat when the tart strawberry and sweet cream flavors explode on my tongue. When I look up, Ben’s slowly withdrawing his spoon from his mouth, dark green eyes intently focused on my lips.
Heat ripples through my belly. All-consuming, inextinguishable heat.
If sharing fries was intimate, this is downright pornographic.
And such a bad, bad idea.
Underneath the table, Ben’s knee brushes against mine. It hardly even counts as touching with two layers of denim between our skin, but it’s enough to spark what comes out of my mouth next.
“Would you maybe be interested in taking a bottle of wine back to my hot tub? Since yours isn’t working, of course.”
Ben doesn’t miss a beat before signaling our waitress. “Check please.”
* * *
“So…I fucked up.”
“Fucked up? Or fucked Ben?”
“Jesus!” I pull the phone a few inches away as Jacklyn’s exuberant laugh bursts against my eardrum. “No! I did not sleep with him!”
“Yet,” she replies as if this fate is already written in the stars.
“Okay, this isn’t what I called to hear.”
“Fine, fine,” she mutters. “I’ll be serious. Go on. What predicament have you gotten yourself into?”
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror in her barely-there, emerald green swimsuit with a V cut down to my navel, my dark hair pulled up in a high ponytail.
Switching the call to speaker, I lay the phone on the counter so I can apply some shimmery highlighter to my cheekbones before Ben arrives.
“Okay, so I’m a bit all over the place and probably not making the wisest decisions… ”
“Spill.”
I fill Jacklyn in on everything that’s happened since our last call: the night Ben held me in the dark, our kiss in the ravine, how I yelled at him on the black sand beach just last night.
I tell her every last detail, including how I decided to tempt the gods of lust by inviting him over for a nightcap in my functioning hot tub.
When I finish, there’s silence on the other end.
I hold my breath. Jacklyn’s never at a loss for words.
“Okay, here’s what I think,” she finally says, and I let out a long exhale. “I think you have to sleep with him.”
“WHAT?” I choke on my own saliva, sending me into a coughing fit.
“Just listen to me here,” she continues once I recover. “You’re clearly unfocused. You clearly want him. And I don’t think you’re going to be able to do your job until you get this out of your system, one way or another.”
“This isn’t any random guy,” I argue. “This is someone I cared about for a very, very long time.”
“But it doesn’t have to be about that. Trust me, sex can be just sex. It could be a what-happens-in-Iceland situation between two consenting adults.”
“What happens in Iceland?” I repeat as if she’s speaking a language I’m not fluent in.
“Yeah, you know, when in Reykjavík, whatever. You get the point.”
I don’t think I do. “We’re not in Reykjavík right now.”
Jacklyn sighs. “That literally doesn’t matter. Listen, from what’s happened so far, it sure doesn’t sound like Ben’s going to turn you down. Do the deed, break the tension, and get back to work.”
“I don’t know…” Everything in me rejects this idea. But what I’m doing now—seesawing back and forth from hot to cold hour by hour—isn’t working, either. Jacklyn always has her life together, so who am I to judge her methods?
There’s a knock at my door, and my stomach drops.
“Fuck,” I curse, rolling my head from side to side and shaking out my arms like I’m an athlete loosening up for a sportsball event. “I’ve got to go.”
“Keep me posted.”
I end the call and take one last look at the flushed woman in the mirror, silently telling her that just because there’s a hot tub and wine, and despite Jacklyn’s advice, nothing lascivious will happen here tonight.
Unfortunately, her hazel eyes stare back at me with a judgment that says, You’re a goddamn idiot.
Two deep breaths later, I pad barefoot across the room, stopping to pull a T-shirt on over my bathing suit before opening the door.
Ben stands on the other side in black swim trunks and a faded gray tee, and shit, this was a terrible idea.
“Come on in,” I say, trying to keep my voice even and unbothered.