Page 50 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
“An awful bold assumption, Benjamin, to think you have any shot at my dessert.”
He shrugs, grin slowly spreading. “I know the odds aren’t in my favor, but what can I say, I’ve always been an underdog.”
“Really? I always thought you were pretty good at getting exactly what you wanted.” It doesn’t occur to me what a bitchy slight that sounds like until it’s out of my mouth and Ben’s grin disappears. “Sorry, I didn’t intend that how it sounded. I swear that wasn’t a veiled reference to our past, I just meant that it seems like you ended up in a good place. You’re successful. You get to travel the world. It all worked out for you.”
He nods, seemingly accepting my apology at face value. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for where I ended up, but there are definitely things I’d change about my life if given the chance.”
“Yeah, like what?”
He leans back in his chair and considers my question, one hand resting on the tabletop, thumb tapping a fast-paced rhythm. “Well, you asked the other night about friends, and it is hard tomaintain relationships when I travel all the time. I think that’s a given. I do miss the kind of close friendships I had with Marcus and Mason. Withyou.”
I ignore the way those last two words make my chest ache as I clear my throat. “What about your mentor? The Dan guy who taught you everything about photography?”
Before he can answer our waitress returns with my dessert.
“Enjoy,” she tells us, setting down a ceramic bowl and two spoons before slipping off to another table in the half-full dining room.
Layers of shortcake and gooey strawberry filling overflow from the bowl in front of me. But right now, I’m more interested in what Ben’s willing to tell me, so I make no move to dig in. Neither does he.
“Dan passed away a couple years ago,” he tells me, voice flat. “Not long after my mother, actually.”
My heart seizes, compassion unexpectedly consuming me. I reach across the table and lay my hand over his, stilling his restless thumb. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”
He gives me a sad sliver of a smile. “It was a really rough six months or so.”
Once again, I get the sense there’s a lot more he isn’t saying, but also that he doesn’t want to delve into this topic any deeper.
He clears his throat and says, “Eat your dessert, Ems.”
I slip my hand away from his, but not before giving it a squeeze for comfort. Determined to erase the pain clouding his eyes, the tension clenching his jaw, I pick up a spoon and hold it out to him. “Well, after that sad news I suppose I have to share my cake now.”
My goal is accomplished when his smile breaks wide. “That was the plan all along.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, warmth filling all the places that ached moments ago. An idea occurs to me, and this time it doesn’t feel self-serving to pitch Ben on working forAround the Globe. Maybe it’s what he needs.
“I think you should consider Calvin’s job offer,” I say, and across from me Ben’s eyes roll as he scoops a bite of shortcake into his spoon. “Just hear me out. It’s steady work and the assignments aren’t long. You’d be partnered with a writer on every trip, so you’d get to meet lots of different people. It could be really good for you. Give you more time at home and let you develop some routine and stability and friendships. I mean, where are you even living right now?”
“I’ve been staying in Hudson Springs dealing with Mom’s house, but I have an apartment in the city.”
“Uh-huh. And when’s the last time you saw it?”
Ben scowls grumpily like he knows I’ve bested him on this particular point but doesn’t want to admit it. “It’s been a little while.”
The more the idea takes shape in my head, the more convinced I am that this could really benefit Ben, which means I don’t have to feel guilty for knowing it would also benefit my career.
“Look, just consider it, okay? Even if you only did it for a little while to test it out. It wouldn’t have to be forever.”
Calvin told me to recruit Ben, he never mentioned how long he had to stay at the company.
“Eat your dessert, Ems,” Ben repeats, changing the subject.
But he didn’t say no.
I pick up my spoon and dive in, and a moan vibrates in my throat when the tart strawberry and sweet cream flavors explode on my tongue. When I look up, Ben’s slowly withdrawing his spoon from his mouth, dark green eyes intently focused on my lips.
Heat ripples through my belly. All-consuming, inextinguishable heat.
If sharing fries wasintimate, this is downright pornographic.
