Page 39 of Just a Plot Twist
Benson: Send me the address to the venue and I’ll bring your phone there ASAP.
Chapter 13
Benson
Claire meets me at the exterior staircase leading into the venue, an old colonial-style home northeast of Longdale that was refurbished as an event center. She’s leaning casually against one of the large, grey stone columns, wearing a long, flowing baby blue dress. Her wavy, light brown hair is pulled up off her neck, with parts of it gently hanging down to skim her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed a little and she looks like she’s trying not to smile at me.
I thought she was beautiful before. She’s breathtaking now.
We silently exchange phones.
“Love the tux,” she says in an excited tone.
I shift. “I threw it on just in case. I didn’t want to be underdressed if I had to go in to find you.”
She nods. “Did you riffle through my photos and search history?” she asks. “Did you read my journal?”
“Loved the photos. Was thoroughly entertained by the search history. Would have read your entire journal if I’d known it was there.”
Her mouth drops open a moment before she realizes I’m kidding.
“You wish.” She smirks, and she’s not wrong. I didn’t consider perusing her photos because I would never search someone’s phone without their permission. But I am curious about that journal she mentioned. And I wouldn’t mind getting a front row seat to her photo albums.
“Did you ask me that because of your guilty conscience?” I ask. “Didyouriffle through the contents of my phone?”
“For hours. I know everything about you now.” Her brows rise and she waits for my reaction.
I must be in the mood for a verbal spar. “Try to refrain from drooling, then.” We can tease each other, right? Or maybe this is more like flirting.
I kill the energy between us. “In all seriousness, though, and forgive me for being all up in your business, but put a password on your phone, okay?”
She wrinkles her nose. “It’s a pain to have one, but okay, sir.” She gives a half-hearted salute. I expect a smirk, and even though her chin is raised, her smile is so radiant that if I were walking right now, I would no doubt stumble.
What. A. Smile.
“You clean up nice,” she says, and I don’t miss the quick flick of a glance over me as she takes me in.
“You do, too,” I say. “I couldn’t show up at a black-tie event in jeans, could I?”
“Want to come in?” She says, her brows raised. Her head jerks back a little towards the main entrance. There are already people here. “You’re dressed for it.”
I shouldn’t. I have an incontinent dog at home, although Cinnamon’s frequency of accidents has dropped lately.
But still. This is Sophie’s sister. When I go on a date, my first since the divorce, it has to be someone with fewer ties. Someone I can have a nice dinner with and easily walk away from until I feel comfortable with the dating life.
Claire isn’t someone I can easily walk away from.
Or say “no” to, apparently, because I nod and begin walking towards the doors. “There’s been so much talk of this extravaganza…” I dip my head to her ear and speak out of the corner of my mouth. “…gala…that I’m curious what all the fuss is about.”
She’s taking mincing steps, limping but trying not to show it. I almost add,Clearly, positive thinking doesn’t heal sprained ankles.But I stop myself.
“How’s your ankle? Want me to grab your crutches?”
She shakes her head vigorously. “They’re in the car where they belong. I can manage.”
“You sure you don’t want me to go grab them and have them on hand, just in case?”
She gives a curt nod. “A thousand percent.”
