“Oh, sweetheart.” He shifts, suddenly much closer than heneeds to be, his voice low, smooth, dangerous. “You and I both know my hands aren’t the problem.”
Heat flares low in my stomach, but before I can fire back, Mum calls from the other side of the herb garden. “Lila, stop distracting him,” she says, exasperated. “That poor plant has suffered enough.”
I smirk, still holding Ben’s gaze. “Right. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm him.”
Ben exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s deeply regretting every life choice that led him to this moment. Then, without missing a beat, he mutters, “If your mother wasn’t standing right there, I’d have you on this ground right now, dirt be damned.”
Heat flashes through me, my smirk faltering for half a second before I regain my composure. I tilt my head, dragging my fingers slowly down his arm, my voice all sugar and sin. “Oh? Here I thought you hated manual labour.”
His grip tightens on the trowel, his gaze dark, hungry. “There’s one kind I happen to be very, very good at.”
A flush creeps up my neck, but before I can reply, Mum clears her throat again. Louder this time. “Benjamin. Less talking, more planting.”
I bite back a laugh, stepping away and patting his shoulder with faux sympathy. “Better get to work, babe. Can’t have my mum thinking you’re all talk and no action.”
His eyes flash with a promise. “Oh, sweetheart. When we get home, we’ll see who’s all talk.”
***
The park is alive with laughter, music, and the hum of conversation. The fairy lights glow softly against the eveningsky, illuminating the newly restored fountain as water cascades elegantly into the basin. Everywhere I look, there’s life.
Children race across the grass, weaving between groups of people, their excited shrieks blending with the soft melodies of the live band. Thomas’s bakery has set up a stall, filling the air with the scent of warm bread and pastries, while Clara’s salon is running a mini beauty booth, painting the little girls’ nails with glittery polish that catches the light.
This place has never felt more alive.
Right in the middle of it? Ben.
He’s deep in conversation with the mayor, his dark jeans hugging his frame just right, a crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top two buttons undone. Relaxed. Effortless. He belongs here. His stance is relaxed, his smile genuine, and for the first time, he’s not just an outsider looking in. He’s part of this.
I watch as Maeve, who has become increasingly obsessed with bossing him around, marches up to him with a clipboard in hand.
“Benjamin,” she says crisply, adjusting her dress up glasses. “Are you enjoying the event?”
Ben blinks, his expression shifting from mild amusement to wary curiosity. “Uh… yes?”
She nods, scanning her clipboard. “Good. Because I’m going to need you to help serve the desserts in precisely twenty minutes.”
His brows lift, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “I—what?”
Maeve doesn’t even blink. “You helped save this park, didn’t you? You’re part of this community now, aren’t you?”
I press a hand over my mouth to smother my laughter, watching as Ben visibly weighs his options.
Finally, he exhales, playing along, utterly charmed despite himself. “Fine. But if I do this, you promise to give me a ten-minute break afterward?”
Maeve taps her pen against the clipboard, considering. “Five.”
Ben tilts his head, eyes narrowing in mock offence. “Seven.”
She squints up at him, her tiny frame somehow managing to look intimidating. “Six.”
Ben sighs, shaking his head, his lips twitching. “Deal.”
Maeve nods approvingly, then immediately pivots, her mission far from over. She turns on her heel and zeroes in on Marcus, who has just taken a sip of his drink, completely unaware that he’s about to be recruited.
Ten minutes later, Marcus comes back with Maeve, perched on Marcus’s shoulders, looking like a queen surveying her kingdom.
Ben spots them at the same time as I do, raising a brow as Marcus trudges toward us, one arm bracing Maeve’s leg while the other wipes sweat from his brow.
