Page 35 of Operation Sunshine
It wasn’t about boundaries, or professionalism, or the inevitability of it all blowing up in his face if anyone found out.
Franco made him feel things he’d worked very hard to bury. Wanting was dangerous—buthaving? Having meant opening doors in himself he had no intention of unlocking.
Whatever was between them, even if therewasanything,was not something he could afford to entertain.
And yet…
Damn it, those same two words again.
Ben could still feel the phantom weight of Franco’s gaze on him from earlier that day, an ember that refused to go out. He turned onto his side, forcing his eyes closed.
Sleep took its time, however, because whenever Ben drifted closer to it, Franco was there.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Chapter Nine
Ben stood at the restaurant’s front door, keys in hand, staring at the CLOSED sign he’d just flipped over, and the white sheet of paper he’d stuck to the glass, announcing the closure for the day. It was too early for the shops and businesses surroundingSage & Thymeto be open, and the quiet felt foreign. Even the street outside seemed to hold its breath.
A whole day.
It felt reckless, even unprofessional. In his old world, every minute of downtime was money bleeding away, reputation points lost. There’d been occasions when he’d been forced to participate in such days, and he’d resented them with every nerve and fibre. Except then, the corporation had been the driving force behind the activities: he’d been talked into this by his own workforce. Apparently, Marco had started this tradition years ago, a “staff retreat” where they shut out the world and remembered who they were together.
Invest in your people, Willow had said when she convinced him, her voice fierce and sure.Marco believed in it. Franco too. You should try it.
Ben wasn’t sure he believed in anything yet. Except saying yes tothis retreat seemed to have delivered a reboot to his entire system, and that terrified and thrilled him in equal measure. A whole day with his staff. No spreadsheets, no meetings, no polished defences. Just them.
And Franco.
That last thought buzzed under his skin like a second heartbeat, sending a strange jolt through his chest, a quick, hot spark he tried to stamp out immediately. Except it stayed, smouldering quietly as he watched Franco approach the van in a flurry of scarves and sunglasses, chattering to Mina and Ollie as he went.
Franco caught Ben’s eye and grinned, unhurried and electric. “You look like a man heading to his own funeral,” he called out. “Cheer up. We’re heading for coffee, donuts and forced vulnerability exercises.”
“That sounds delightful. Except ‘forced vulnerability’ could be taken a number of different ways,” Ben muttered, his voice so dry it cracked.
Franco stepped closer to him and leaned in a little too far, his familiar subtle invasion of space that always left Ben blinking. “Oh, don’t worry.” Franco’s voice dropped into a lower register. “I promise I’ll hold your hand if it gets too scary.”
Ben opened his mouth to protest, but all he managed was a shuddering exhale. Franco winked and slipped past him, the warmth of his body lingering in the air.
Raj was behind the wheel, and he glanced over his shoulder at the assembled throng. “Get in and shut that door,” he said through gritted teeth. “My nuts are about to drop off and shatter, it’s so cold out there.”
“We can’t have that.” Franco’s eyes gleamed. “What would Arun do without his favourite playthings?”
Raj snorted. “Find something else to play with, that’s what.”
Everyone piled into the van, and somehow Ben ended up next to Franco, either by accident or design, he wasn’t sure which. Space was limited, and they sat close enough that their thighs pressed together when the van took corners. He was hyperaware of the warmth ofFranco’s skin against his own, the faint smell of rosemary and citrus that seemed to cling to him.
Franco leaned in. “Blame the tragic road trip playlist on Ollie,” he whispered into Ben’s ear, his breath warm and intimate. Every time Franco shifted, Ben felt the edge of a hip or the ghost of a knee against his leg, sending electric shocks jolting up his spine. Once, when Franco laughed too hard, he collapsed against Ben’s shoulder, his head there a beat too long before he straightened, giving Ben a look that was both apologetic and unmistakably mischievous.
Ben couldn’t decide whether the action was pure accident or deliberate.
The ride out of the city was a blur of music, laughter, and half-yelled jokes. Ben did his best not to react to Franco’s invasion of his personal space, but it seemed every time he moved, so did Franco.
Be honest. You don’t mind allthatmuch, do you?
And speaking of Franco…His hand covered Ben’s, warm to the touch. Franco’s mouth twitched into a smirk.
