Page 47 of Just a Plot Twist
I’m not used to falling from my position as favorite grandchild. Like always, disappointing them hurts more than my ankle does.
Benson finds my hand and gives it another squeeze before turning to my grandparents. “It’s not Claire’s fault. It’s mine for dancing when she should have been resting. I apologize for the fuss. Don’t let us interrupt the extravaganza any further.” His smile is tight, his tone abrupt.
“We’d better get back to the dance,” Grandma says, lifting her heavy satin ball gown to prepare to walk.Shewould never fall in front of two hundred people. “I’m glad you’re alright.” It’s almost a mutter.
They leave before I can say more. Dancing couples have started maneuvering around us, and we’ve had a couple of close calls. Dang. These people take their ballroom dancing very seriously.
Benson wraps an arm around me. “Let’s get you over to a chair if you can?”
I take a tentative step on my injured ankle and maybe it’s the adrenaline, but I manage to make it to a small table with two chairs in the corner.
Good. I can lick my wounds in private.
Benson helps me sit and then takes the chair across from me, his forehead bunched up.
“I’m sorry about that.”
My heart is still pounding against my rib cage and my face is hot. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I pulled you on top of me! You must think I’m the most accident-prone fool on the—”
“No. Your injury wasn’t healed enough. That’s all.”
I sigh and remove my phone from the pocket in my dress—the one redeeming quality this dress has. I missed a text from Sophie several minutes ago, saying that she and Oliver were leaving to put Elizabeth to bed.
Again, that wistfulness surges around me, the desire for a husband and kids. I want to go home with a husband to put our baby to bed.
Benson flags down a waiter and asks for a drink for me. When the man leaves, Benson’s gaze bores into me and then he pats his lap. “Rest your foot on me. It needs to be elevated.”
I sniffle and blink as my cheeks heat. The reality of what just happened is sinking in.
Mostly keeping my composure, I focus on the dancers on the floor, as Benson supports my ankle on his knee, gently cradling it.
He then lifts my shoe off, and a thrill of a tickle travels up the sole of my bare foot at his touch. He sets my shoe on the floor next to us and begins kneading the arch.
“I won’t touch the ankle area. It’s too tender. But I can work on this arch like nobody’s business.” He offers a sweet smile.
The music changes to a livelier tune and I catch a glimpse of my grandparents, spritely moving across the floor, their smiles looking a little less polished. More relaxed and genuine.
Joyful.
They do love each other. And this whole thing really is a special occasion.
And I had to go and fall, pulling Benson—an innocent bystander in all of this—down on top of me!
I care too much about what my grandparents think of me. I realize it’s not healthy. I just have no idea how to…stopcaring about it.
I cringe as my mind again goes to the fall. “Wait, are you okay? You fell, too.” I ask Benson, taking in his form. His knees are apart and he’s leaning forward a little so he can really get in there and give my foot a good rub down. It feels like heaven.
And it might be the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m fine. You cushioned my fall.” His eyes twinge together in sympathy. Before I can respond, he leans in closer.
“Hey, do you want to get out of here? We should ice this.” The way his gaze sweeps up my leg makes me want to fix my dress. As I reach down to try to do so, he chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re decent.”
“Unlike the other day in my office?”
His cheeks color. “That was unfortunate, but not a big deal. And Claire. I meant what I said. You need to ice this thing.” He glances around before ducking his chin a little. “What do you say we get out of here? I’ll drive you home.”
“But we haven’t gotten food yet, Benson.”
