Oh.
“Okay, I’m done.” He sets the piece aside, and I watch quietly as he puts each tool neatly back in its place.
Skye and I thrive in chaos, but it’s sweet how careful he is with his work.
Benji returns with a brush, a small tin, and a serious expression. “I need to finish this with a hard wax oil. You’d better move away from there; this stuff is potent.”
I think I can handle it. “Strong smells are kind of myjob.”
He catches my eyes. His attention is a physical thing; it touches and tingles along my skin. Across my collarbone. Along my wrists. Between my thighs.
“I know, but just in case.”
I nod, and Benji grips my waist as he helps me down, the heat of his hands a brand through the thin cotton of my tank top.
He waits until I’ve moved away, and then all of his focus is on his work. He dips the brush before passing long, confident strokes to coat the wood. A furrow has formed between his brows, and when he turns his head to inhale, I realize it’s strain.
Maybe I am trouble, but I’m too curious to hold my breath. Years of experimenting mean that Skye and I have mixed up some truly awful combinations, so I’m expecting the worst, but while the smell is noticeable, it’s not offensive.
“Sorry,” he says when he’s finished. “It’s a lot.” He moves quickly, flicking a switch on the wall. The overhead fans whir faster and louder, surrounding us in a deep hum. “Is that better?”
Benji looks so relieved when he breathes in that I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s mild to me.
“Much better,” I tell him. “You should play music in here,” I say. “The acoustics would be amazing.”
He walks the finished piece to a rack along the back wall. “I like the quiet. It helps me concentrate.”
“I’m the opposite.”
Benji catches my eye from across the shop and smiles. “I’ve noticed. I like seeing you in your element. You look good.”
I blush.
It doesn’t matter if it’s Rachmaninoff, the Four Tops, or the latest summer hit; we listen to it all. I don’t think we’d get as much done if we weren’t tapping our feet and singing along.
Suddenly, he’s in front of me. “Seeing you is the best part of my day.”
“Mine too,” I admit in a whisper.
The quiet drags out as he looks at me, content to let our words linger in the silence. Is this what he means about concentrating? Music has always been the soundtrack to the important moments in my life, but right now, I’m glad there’s nothing else because I can hear every time Benji exhales, the eager thump of my heart in my chest as he steps closer, bringing the rich, earthy smell I can’t associate with anyone but him.
What does he see when he looks at me?
His gaze dips down to my lips, and I could swear my heart stops. Is he …? No, he couldn’t be. He’s so beautiful, and I’m just … me.
“I should probably go,” I rasp, even though leaving is the last thing I want to do. “If Skye is alone with customers for too long, she starts planning to burn the place down for the insurance money.”
I back out of the workshop, and Benji leans against the doorframe.
“I don’t think it works that way anymore,” he teases.
“All the more reason to get over there.”
It isn’t until I’m back on my side of the alleyway that it hits me. Specifically, the thousand and one smells that make up our shop hit me, all at once. If Benji thinks his wax is strong, then this place must …
Oh.
Wow. I always wondered why he jolted to a stop every time he walked in, but he’s never said anything, and he’s over here just as often as I’m over there.
