Page 9 of Operation Sunshine
Franco flicked a lemon slice at her, and she caught it midair with a deftness he admired, rolling her eyes.
“Any more culinary assault and I’m quitting to become a potter.” She shoved the lemon in her mouth regardless.
Franco smirked but his mind drifted past the empty dining room, the disarray of plates and smudged glassware, to the corner where Ben had sat moments before: tall, too neatly pressed even in casual clothes, his pen clicking like a metronome for his internal panic.
Franco’s fingers itched, remembering the way Ben’s eyes had darted up every time Franco came near, as though he couldn’t help himself. The way he’d pressed a palm to the wall, as though he might collapse from sheer overstimulation.
Franco recognised that I-don’t-know-how-to-breathe-in-here look. He’d seen it on first-time cooks dropped onto the line, or on kids during their first solo shift. But on Ben, a man who looked as if he could dismantle a hedge fund with a single email, it was endearing.
Devastatingly endearing.
“Earth to Franco,” Raj snapped, dragging Franco’s mind back to the kitchen. “You gonna keep slicing lemons all day or help me with the prep list?”
Franco sliced another lemon so thin it was nearly transparent. “I’m multitasking,” he said with a shrug.
Lexie snorted. “Multitasking, or daydreaming about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Spreadsheet?”
Franco’s knife slipped, nicking his thumb. He set it down too forcefully and turned to face her.
“I wasn’t—”
“Oh my God, you totallywere,” Mina cut in, her tone and expression gleeful. She leaned forward, her eyes bright. “You’ve got that ridiculous glazed look. Like when you found that heirloom tomato stall last summer.” She tossed him the First Aid box. “Get that cut covered up.”
Franco’s cheeks grew hot as he reached into the box for a Band-Aid. His thumb protected, he swiped a lemon pip off the counter with more force than was necessary.
“Ben is… interesting,” he muttered, glaring at the pip.
“Interesting,” Raj echoed dryly. Franco jerked his head up to find Raj quirking one of his bushy eyebrows. “I call that Franco code for ‘I want to lick his jawline and ruin his entire life.’”
Lexie shrieked with laughter, nearly dropping her sketchbook. Mina leaned against the fridge, howling. Even Raj’s usually stern mouth twitched at the corners.
Franco lifted his hands in surrender. “He’s just so… precise. Controlled. You know, like those little bonsais? You want to shake ’em loose.”
Raj snorted. “You don’t want toprunehim, Franco. You want to climb him like a tree.”
Franco opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. His cheeks burned.
Busted.
Maybe he did want to climb Ben. Maybe he wanted to feel that tight coil of control unravel under his hands, wanted to press him against a counter and watch that polished corporate mask crack wide open.
He shook himself.Jesus.EitherI need a cold shower or an exorcism.
Before he could come up with a suitably witty or scathing riposte, Willow pushed through the kitchen doors, her cheeks flushed, her hair escaping her bun the way it always did. She looked ready for battle.
“All right, listen up, children.” She clapped her hands sharply. “New sheriff in town wants a staff meeting tomorrow morning before service.Everyone. No exceptions.”
Lexie groaned and flopped dramatically onto her crate, arms thrown wide. “I have to babysit my niece in the morning. She’s going to learn new curse words if I’m here.”
Raj frowned but gave a curt nod, as if already mentally blocking time in his prep schedule. Mina scrunched her nose.
Franco straightened, doing his damnedest not to look too eager. “What time?”
Willow squinted at him, her eyes narrowing as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Nine sharp. Wear clean shirts. And if any of you are late, Ben will probably make you write an essay on time management.”
Lexie kicked her legs in the air, muttering, “I didn’t leave corporate life to do essays…”
Franco only half-heard them. He was already picturing Ben standing at the front of the dining room, his spine rod-straight, his jaw clenched, that cool gaze flicking over them like a general surveying an undisciplined troop.
