Page 27 of Operation Sunshine
“Absolutely not a cult,” Raj offered helpfully.
Ben blinked. “You’re serious.”
Willow nodded. “Deadly.”
Chloe leaned in. “We just thought it might help—you know, with everything. People are still adjusting. And… you’re new.”
Franco gave him a slow, unreadable smile. “Sometimes a little chaos off the clock brings people together.”
Ben studied their faces. Too many innocent expressions. It was definitely a setup.
He just wasn’t sure how yet.
“And you want me to—what? Approve this? Attend it?”
“You have to attend it,” Chloe said quickly. “That’s the whole point. Otherwise it’s just a picnic and we’ll all leave early.”
Willow tilted her head. “Besides, don’t you want to show the team you’re not secretly a spreadsheet in human form?”
Ben arched his eyebrows. “Tempting pitch.”
“And obviously it’s not as if anyone has ulterior motives about pairing people up during wilderness activities,” Raj added with false sincerity.
Willow kicked him.
Ben sighed and closed his laptop. “You’ve all clearly been planning this.”
“Nooo,” they chorused, way too quickly.
Chloe glanced over to Franco, who sipped his coffee and smiled like a man who had nothing to hide. Which, even in Ben’s limited experience of the man, usually meant he was up to something.
Ben crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll go. But if this turns into some half-arsed Survivor reboot, I’m cutting the budget for team drinks.”
Willow gave an exaggerated salute. “Understood. All activities will be safe, consensual, and only mildly humiliating.”
Franco watched Ben from over the rim of his mug. “Looking forward to seeing you… unwind.” The murmur was just loud enough to be audible.
Ben met his eyes. There was something dangerously unreadable in Franco’s gaze, as though he’d just moved his knight three steps forward in a game Ben hadn’t realised they were playing.
Ben turned away before he could react. “Someone book the bloody thing, then. And no matching t-shirts.”
From behind him, the staff erupted into cheers.
Beside him, Franco chuckled. “Oh, come on. You’d look good in navy.”
Ben didn’t reply, but a muscle in his jaw ticked.
Judging by the twinkle in Franco’s eyes, he’d seen it.
Chapter Seven
The rain had been steady since mid-afternoon, not the wild, cinematic kind that rattled the windows, but a grey, relentless curtain that blurred the shopfronts across the street and made the few people outside scuttle past with their heads down. It was the kind of weather that made you think twice about leaving the house at all, let alone to sit in a restaurant.
Inside,Sage & Thymefelt oddly hollow without the usual murmur of customers. The dining room, with its soft amber lighting and mismatched chairs, seemed to be holding its breath. Even the jazz playlist in the background felt too loud in the emptiness.
From the kitchen came the rhythmic clatter of pans being stacked, cupboard doors shutting, and the occasional muffled“bloody hell”from Raj. If the man was going to have a slow night, he was clearly determined to put it to use.
Franco was at table six, standing on a chair to adjust a ceiling lightbulb that had been threatening to flicker out all week. The fact he was doing it in skinny jeans, boots, and an apricot sweater that looked like it belonged in a magazine ad was pure Franco.
