Page 42 of Fake

Benjamin pulls a laptop out of his messenger bag, opens it on the desk and I literally gasp when I see the visual representation of our brains coming together. These designs are only preliminaries and they’re damn near perfect.

“I’m not even going to have to argue with you about the staircase placement!” I meet his grin with wide eyes. “That literally never happens.”

“I extended the living room by a few feet to make space for one more window,” he says, tapping the screen, “maximizing natural light in the morning as per your suggestion. That meant the stairs fit better here…” Another tap.

“Which completely opens up the flow of the first floor.” I lean in for a better look. The influx of natural light will transform the feeling of the living room, and after spending so much time with The Prince of Darkness, there’s one thing I know for sure…

Nathan West could do with more light in his life.

“This is amazing.” I straighten and lean a hip on the desk. “I would have needed a drive to settle myself down after seeing it too.”

Benjamin stands close, pointing out several other exciting design features that I totally miss because there’s a warm line of contact between us, his shoulder, arm, and hip brushing against mine. Talk about mixed signals! I know he’s not flirting, but it sure as hell feels like he’s flirting.

I can see the scowl on Nathan’s face, hear the gravel in his words. If he saw us now, he’d be upset.

I shift, putting space between me and Benjamin.

That’s strange. The man of my dreams is possibly coming onto me, and I can’t stop thinking about Nathan. What am I supposed to do with that?

Benjamin leans a hip on my desk, the picture of boyish charm. “Can I ask a personal question?”

I suddenly have a terrible suspicion I’m not gonna like where this is going.

“Sure.”

“You’re talented. Intelligent. Beautiful. Nathan’s, well, he was rude to you at our first meeting and his response to your text that night? The ass biting one?”

I nod and pray Benjamin moves on quickly.

“It didn’t give me the warm fuzzies,” he finishes. “I know I’m way out of line here, like pushing every possible boundary of our professional relationship out of line, but how do you get from that to being in a serious relationship? Are you sure you want to be with him? Is there a chance the crush you’ve had on him for years might be blinding you to what’s really going on?”

I almost correct him and say that he’s the one I’ve had a crush on for years, but catch myself just in time and exhale all the breath in my lungs in one quick huff. “That is definitely personal,” I say instead.

“I don’t mean to be rude and you can tell me to shut up and I will, but I hate to see people accept less than they’re worth and, something tells me that’s what’s happening here.”

I disintegrate into a fidget fest and search for something to say. Anything at all will do. Unfortunately, I couldn’t form a sentence if my life depended on it.

Benjamin straightens, shaking his head and reaching for his laptop. Eyes averted. Cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m way out of line. I’ve made my career by following my instincts, but people aren’t as straightforward as blueprints. I should know by now not to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He shoves his laptop in his bag, and I put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I appreciate you looking out for me. I do. It’s incredibly sweet and thoughtful and I wish more people went out on limbs like that for others. Nathan’s…”

Normally a litany of negative descriptors would be clamoring to rocket out of my mouth, but the only word I have tonight is, “…misunderstood. I called him The Prince of Darkness when we first met. To his face even. When you get past that, he’s…”

I search for a word to describe what’s underneath Nathan’s bristly exterior, but Benjamin holds up his hands.

“You don’t have to explain. If you’re good, great. Just…if you’re not good, I’m here to help.”

That’s the kind of support I’d expect from Fallon, or my mom, not a business associate whose career is lightyears ahead of mine.

“How are you single?” The question’s out before I have time to evaluate its conversational worthiness. Thankfully, Benjamin doesn’t so much as flinch.

“I’m a perfectionist who hyperfocuses on just about everything. Great for architecture. Not so great for human interaction. Add a penchant for saying exactly what I’m thinking and oddly enough, that narrows down my dating options.” Benjamin swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Other than the fact that I almost found myself standing up for Nathan.

We say our goodbyes and Benjamin sidesteps his way toward the door, eager for an exit I’m glad to let him take.