Page 16 of Operation Sunshine
He followed as Franco darted to a table piled high with eggplants. Franco picked one up, holding it like a prize.
“Look at this beauty,” Franco said reverently, turning it in his hands. “Glossy skin, heavy, firm, just waiting to be turned into something incredible.”
Ben snorted. “It’s an eggplant, not a lover.”
Franco whipped around so fast Ben nearly walked into him.
“Oh, but you must treat them the same.” Franco leaned in, their noses almost touching. “With patience. Curiosity. Gentleness. You rush, you bruise it. You go too cold, it turns bitter.”
Ben stared into eyes that were too close, too bright. For one breathless second, he forgot where he was, forgot the noise and the heat—
And his own walls.
Then Franco’s fingers brushed his wrist, feather-light, and Ben jolted back as if burned.
“Jesus,” Ben muttered. “Do you flirt with all your vegetables?”
Franco laughed again, the sound easy and unashamed. “Only the pretty ones.”
He pushed them forward into the crowd, then led Ben from stall to stall while Franco sampled segments of mandarin and orange, dragging the sharp scent of grapefruit into his lungs.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re like a hyperactive golden retriever?” Ben muttered from behind him. He paused. “Did you just lead me in a circle?”
Franco plucked a ripe tomato, holding it up. “See this?” He leaned in and their shoulders brushed, sending a jolt through him.
Judging by the way Ben almost dropped his bag, he wasn’t the only one who’d felt it.
Franco twisted the tomato toward Ben’s face, close enough to smell its sweet, earthy scent. “Perfect acidity,” he murmured, hisvoice dropping to a husky whisper. “If you listen carefully, you can hear it sigh.”
Ben swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Franco’s lips.
“I don’t want to hear a tomato sigh,” Ben croaked.
Franco turned abruptly, their noses nearly touching again, and Ben froze. Franco’s eyes flickered down to Ben’s mouth and then back up to his eyes.
“Pity,” Franco said before stepping away.
He saw Ben flinch, the air crackling between them.
Fuck, I want to kiss him.Not that he would—not yet—but the temptation pulled at him like a riptide.
Every time Ben’s eyes dropped to his mouth, anticipation trickled down Franco’s spine. He kept finding excuses to step closer: squeezing past a cart, leaning to smell a bunch of basil, slipping his hand to Ben’s lower back as they turned a tight corner.
Each time, Ben stiffened and jolted, but he didn’t move away.
Well, not really.
He loved that flush creeping up Ben’s neck, the way his eyes darted away from Franco’s mouth, only to return there a heartbeat later.
God, he’s fun to tease.
He knew he shouldn’t pushtoohard. Ben was the type to lock up tighter if cornered, but he couldn’t help slipping a hand onto Ben’s lower back as they squeezed past a crowded olive stand. He felt the sharp inhale, the tension under his palm, and it made something spark in his chest.
Franco was having the best dayever.
“Remind me again why we’re at this particular market,” Ben asked. They’d already visited the Central Market.
“Because this is the best place for local produce. Potatoes, pumpkin,carrots, parsnips, sweet potatoes… The pears are amazing here, and their lemons are the best.”
