Page 5 of Operation Sunshine
Franco leaned in conspiratorially. “We were taking bets on whether you’d be a tight-arse corporate vampire or a rich hobbyist with a death wish.” He put his hands on his hips and looked Ben up and down, that gleam still evident. “I’d say the jury’s still out.”
Ben’s mouth twitched despite himself. Any words he wished to utter were still MIA.
Franco’s grin grew wider. “He’s speechless. I love it. Wait until he meets Mina.” He spun toward the kitchen. “Everyone, he’s here! And from the look of him, I think he’s already regretting his life choices.”
Whoever was in the kitchen roared back in approval, a cascade of whoops, laughter, and metal-on-metal percussion.
A tall man emerged, broad-shouldered with salt-and-pepper hair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with flour and herbs. Ben liked how he moved with quiet authority, a steady calm that cut through the tumult around him.
“Franco,” the man rumbled, his voice low and warm. “Give the man space to breathe.”
Franco held up his hands in mock surrender but didn’t move far.
The man offered his hand to Ben. “I’m Raj. Head chef. I keep the children from burning the place down.”
Ben shook it, relishing the solid steadiness of his grip.
“You look like you need a whisky,” Raj observed, his eyes kind.
Ben’s lips twitched again. “I wouldn’t say no.”
He laughed, a deep, chest-filling sound. “Good answer. Come on, Ollie will set you up.”
Franco huffed. “I have a much better idea.” Then he disappearedinto the kitchen.
From the bar, a tall figure with lanky limbs and tired eyes raised a shaker lazily.
“And I’m Ollie,” he called out. “I’m in charge of questionable advice and excellent cocktails.”
Ben glanced at the bar’s scratched wood with its fading ring marks.I bet each one could tell a story.Nothing like the sterilised chrome fortresses he used to haunt.
This feels warm. Real.
Before he could take it all in, a blur in a floral dress rushed at him, all perfume and brightness.
“Oh my God! You’re here!” She threw her arms around him before he could brace for impact, pulling him into a hug that smelled like lemon zest and sugar.
Ben stiffened. In his old life, hugs were orchestrated: two pats, pull back, smile for the camera. This one was messy and full, wrapping around his ribs before he could protest.
When she finally let go, she beamed at him. “I’m Mina. Baking genius, part-time psych student, and compulsive hugger.” She bit her lip. “You looked like you needed that.”
Ben’s hands hovered awkwardly by his sides. “Hi, Mina.”
She jabbed a finger at his chest. “We’re going to turn you into a real human in no time.”
Behind her, Raj snorted. “She means well. Mostly.”
Ben was too overwhelmed to think straight.
Franco swept back into the scene with two steaming mugs and plopped one into Ben’s hands.
“Chamomile, honey, lemon.” He beamed. “Anti-corporate poison.”
Ben took it, the warmth radiating into his palms, and brought it to his nose. The smell was sweet and unfamiliar. He took a careful sip, the herbal warmth settling in his throat like a quiet promise.
“Is that it? Have I met everyone?” Ben hadn’t seen the tattooed sous-chef from his previous visit, but she could be hiding out in the kitchen.
“There’s Lexie. She’s probably out back someplace.” Franco perched on a bar stool, leaning in as if they were already mid-conversation. “So,” he asked, his voice lower, “Why here? Why us?”
