Page 20 of Operation Sunshine
Chapter Five
Ben wasn’t sure how it had happened, but one moment he was minding his business, sipping a cup of coffee in the quiet back office of the restaurant, and the next, Franco had invaded his space and talked him into agreeing to let a local wine supplier use the function room above the restaurant for a tasting session.
He’d frowned. “Is this a regular occurrence?”
Franco nodded. “We usually invite local business owners who are also interested. We’re talking maybe a dozen bottles to try.”
It was the sort of event that would have once sounded entirely unappealing to Ben: too many people, too much small talk, and an unreasonable amount of overpriced wine.
Do they expect me to pull this together?
Franco smiled as if privy to Ben’s thoughts. “You don’t need to do a thing. We’ve done plenty of these shindigs. Leave all the arrangements to us. All you have to do is show your face and make the right noises when you try the wine.” He stilled, his gaze narrowed in mock-suspicion. “Youdodrink wine, right?”
Ben had replied with an eyeroll. “I worked in Melbourne, not the outback.”
And here I am.
Thefunction roomwas too grand a term for the cozy space that would probably seat twenty diners at a pinch. The room itself was warm, intimate, with a rustic, inviting feel: large wooden beams crossed the ceiling, and low lighting cast a gentle glow over everything. The walls were lined with shelves filled with empty wine bottles, each label more exotic than the next.
Ben stood at the threshold, watching people chatting in small groups. The occasional burst of laughter or snatch of conversation made him feel as though he was standing outside some secret club, unsure of what exactly excluded him.
Is it my clothes?
Maybe his suithadbeen the wrong choice: Everyone in front of him was dressed casually. Ben shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, eyeing the clusters of people milling about, doing his best to relax.
Not an easy task.
And then he saw Franco in the centre of it all, in tight black jeans and a black shirt that hugged his slim waist and clung to his wide chest and equally wide shoulders.
He seems to be in his element.
Franco held a glass in one hand, and with each wild gesture Ben felt sure one of the attendees nearby was going to end up painted with Franco’s wine. He wore an expression of sheer glee as he bounced from person to person.
One day I’ll catch him when he’s low on energy.
Except Ben doubted such a day would ever arrive.
Franco’s gaze alighted on Ben, and he waved, practically skipping over to where Ben stood, sporting a broad grin.
“Ben! You made it. You’re just in time. They’re about to start pouring the first round.”
Ben glanced at the glass in Franco’s hand. “Then what is that?”
Franco’s eyes gleamed. “A warm-up.” He beamed. “You ready to get cultured?”
Ben raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You really think I’m the type to—”
“Of course I do,” Franco interrupted, slinging an arm around Ben’s shoulder with the same easy familiarity he reserved for everyone. Ben raised his eyebrows, and Franco withdrew with a blink. “You’ve got an air of sophistication about you. And wine is about life, Ben. The good, the bad, the complex flavours… This?” He flung his arm out to encompass the room, and thankfully it wasn’t the one holding the glass. “This is going to change you.”
“I’m sure it will,” Ben muttered in a vague attempt at sarcasm. But despite his best efforts to resist, Franco’s enthusiasm was contagious. Maybe it was the way Franco’s eyes sparkled when he spoke, or maybe it was just the fact that, no matter how grouchy or reserved Ben tried to be, Franco always made him feel as though he was part of something.
I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did to his arm around me.
It had been an impulse, one Ben regretted.
Franco steered him towards a long wooden table where the first wine was already being poured. Ben eyed the deep, ruby liquid as the sommelier, an older man with a deep voice that carried authority, explained the nuances of the wine. Franco’s full attention was on the sommelier, nodding eagerly, and it was clear from the way Franco interacted with him that he had more than a passing interest in wine.
He’s invested.Which explained why he’d been the one to approach Ben, and not Ollie. Ben had yet to work out what made Ollie tick—or determine if Ollie was going to be a problem. Because that guy was never far from a drink.
