Operation Sunshine, page 9
The rest of the staff had already made themselves comfortable on the rugs or the chairs. Chloe was farthest away, her arms crossed, her eyebrows raised at every one of Mina’s suggestions; Lexie was texting furiously on her phone, likely planning her escape; and Willow was talking animatedly to Ollie and Raj, her hand on her hip.
Franco, ever the social butterfly, had found his niche too, immediately striking up a conversation with Coral, his hands fluttering as he spoke.
Any second now, and Coral’s gonna be wearing Franco’s coffee. How that man managed to avoid spilling every single drink was a secret known only to the universe.
Ben stood with his back to the coffee station, sipping the aromatic liquid. Franco chose that moment to rejoin him, still grinning.
“You really think they’re going to make us sit around and ‘share’ our feelings?” Ben asked quietly.
“I think that’s the plan. Get ready for the kumbaya circle.” Franco leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you’re not careful, they might ask you to sing a song. I hear ‘Wonderwall’ is the group favourite.”
Ben snorted into his coffee, half choking on the liquid. “Oh God, don’t even joke about that.”
Franco beamed. “I’m serious, man. It’s the ultimate test of vulnerability.” His eyes gleamed. “You’re gonna sing ‘Wonderwall.’ You know it.”
“And what will you be doing?” Ben demanded.
Franco batted his eyelashes. “I’ll just be here for moral support.” His lips twitched. “And recording it on my phone, because… evidence.”
Ben eyed the tables and chairs, scattered about for what was surely going to be some form of group activity. The vibe was casual.
If you consider mandatory bonding activities casual. Not that it really was mandatory.
Coral gave a shrill blast on a whistle, then clapped her hands, gaining the room’s attention.
“We’re going to start with some trust exercises.”
Ben gaped. “A whistle? Seriously? She’s not herding sheep—there are only eight of us, for crying out loud,” he muttered. Raj let out a snort, and Willow rolled her eyes.
The first activity comprised guiding each other blindfolded through a maze of overturned chairs. Ben nearly tripped over Ollie twice and accidentally grabbed Franco’s waist when he panicked and lost balance.
“Hands higher next time, darling,” Franco whispered with a scandalised giggle, his fingers closing over Ben’s to steady him.
Ben’s face went so hot he thought he might combust. The warmth of Franco’s hand seemed to seep up his entire arm, a pulse he couldn’t ignore. Even when Franco let go, Ben’s skin buzzed as if touched by static.
“I think I’ll just stick with guiding you myself.” Warmth tickled his ear, Franco’s hands hovering near Ben’s waist, his breath feather-light. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall—unless it’s into my arms.”
Ben barked out a nervous laugh and stepped forward blindly, only to feel Franco’s chest press against his back to steady him. Their bodies aligned in a way that felt both accidental and maddeningly intimate. He could feel the heat radiating off Franco, the slight hitch in his breathing.
“Careful,” Franco murmured, his lips so close to Ben’s neck that Ben shivered despite the warm air pushed into the room by the lit fire.
After they finished, Franco didn’t step away immediately. His fingers lingered at Ben’s side, trailing lightly as if memorising the shape of him before slipping away.
“All right, team,” Coral called out. “Grab a spot on a rug. Next is a “shared values” session. Each of you has a small piece of paper and a marker. The aim is to write one word you associate with the restaurant.”
Ben hesitated, staring at his marker. What the hell do I put? He gazed at the seated group around him. Lottie chose family, Mina picked joy, Raj wrote heart, and Ollie, after a dramatic pause, scrawled hangover.
Ben glanced in Franco’s direction, on tenterhooks to see his chosen word. Relief unexpectedly flooded through him when Franco wrote magic in bold, swooping letters, adding three stars for emphasis.
Then Ben realised all eyes were on him.
He thought about it for a second, then wrote alive. When he held it up, Franco’s gaze met his, and he gave Ben a small nod of approval.
It was ridiculous, it was forced, and it was like every other team-building activity Ben had ever been dragged into. But something about the absurdity of it all, combined with Franco’s infectious energy, made him feel—for a moment—that maybe this retreat wasn’t such a terrible idea.
“I’m telling you, Ben.” Franco’s voice dropped a little as he got closer, his perpetual grin easing into something more genuine. “This is what we need. Not just the restaurant, the job. This... this is the stuff that makes life worth it.”
Ben’s gaze shifted to the others. The staff had begun to chat amongst themselves, laughing like a group of five-year-olds. For a fleeting moment, Ben knew Franco was right. Maybe it wasn’t the crazy, impromptu “activities” or the forced bonding moments that mattered. Maybe it was the small, unexpected moments that actually made a difference.
Moments like this. Because as Ben watched the absurdity unfolding in front of him, he found he was actually kind of enjoying it.
He wasn’t sure whether to thank Franco for it or hit him with a pillow.
Chapter Ten
“Next up is a little activity I like to call “appreciation circles,” Coral announced. “One by one, you’re going to turn to the person next to you and say something you value about them.”
Ben gave an internal sigh. And of course I’m sitting next to Franco. Thankfully, Coral got Raj to set the ball rolling, and Ben smiled when he turned to Lexie and told her he valued her enthusiasm for his new culinary experiments.
Inside, he was a mess, his stomach churning. When the circle got to him, he’d have to say something about Raj.
But what do I say?
And why was contemplating this a source of so much anxiety?
Then it was Franco’s turn.
He turned to Ben, his head tilted, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something Ben couldn’t read.
“I value your unexpected softness,” Franco said, his voice lower than usual. “Under all those ironed shirts and spreadsheets, you’re warmer than you let on.” He gestured to the group gathered in front of the fireplace. “And while you keep pretending you’re above all this, you’re actually soaking it up like sunlight on your skin.”
Then, with deliberate slowness, Franco reached out and brushed a stray hair off Ben’s forehead, letting his fingers trail down the side of his face, pausing briefly at his jaw before pulling away.
Ben’s heart pounded so hard he thought everyone in the room heard it.
The group howled and cheered, teasing Franco mercilessly, but Ben could barely focus. His skin felt as though it was humming, every nerve alive and alert, chasing the echo of Franco’s touch. He opened his mouth to reply but found he had no words at all.
The rest of them hooted and applauded, and Mina declared she was going to embroider unexpected softness onto a tea towel.
Raj coughed. “Not that I’m trying to hurry you or anything, but I am sort of anxious to know what you value in me.” He grinned. “Although I’m not sure you can top ‘unexpected softness.” He clasped his hands, holding them against his heart, his head slightly tilted. That earned him a ripple of laughter from the others.
Ben chuckled. “Me neither. But I’m going to go with…” He paused. “I value your natural leadership skills.”
Raj frowned. “Is that a euphemism for bossy?”
Ben smiled. “It means you’re like the superglue that holds this wacky, unpredictable, insane group of people together.”
There was a momentary pause before everyone clapped, and Raj flushed.
Lunch was an indoor picnic of sandwiches, fruit, and pastries. Everyone lounged on the rugs in a lazy sprawl, sharing leftovers and trading stories.
Ben stared into the fire, feeling something unspool inside him, a cautious loosening he didn’t quite understand. He glanced sideways at Franco, who was stretched out on the rug, reacting to something Ollie had said, his face lit up and utterly unguarded, his laughter gentle, a low, rolling cadence that curled around Ben like warm hands. Throughout lunch, he’d sat cross-legged beside Ben on the rug, so close their knees touched. Franco kept finding excuses to lean in, such as to wipe a crumb off Ben’s lip with his thumb, the contact quick but loaded, leaving Ben speechless and his cheeks hot.
There was a tightness in Ben’s chest, part terror, part exhilaration.
I uprooted my life to find something real. And here it was—here he was—messy, loud, alive, slipping past Ben’s defences one laugh, one flirtation, one chaotic day at a time.
Ben closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the burning pine logs and the last notes of Franco’s laughter. For the first time in years, Ben didn’t feel like he was running away from something.
I’m running toward a new destination.
It was terrifying, beautiful, and entirely unknown.
Then he realised how quiet the room had become. He glanced around to discover he and Franco were alone.
“Where did they all go?”
Franco pointed to a door off the main room. “Coral said something about cake, and they were out of here.”
Ben smirked. “And you alone were able to resist the lure of cake?”
He smiled. “I’m sweet enough.”
Ben waited for the flirtatious comments he felt certain were on the tip of Franco’s tongue, but the only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire. Franco sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his weight on his hands, the firelight catching the lines of his face in ways Ben wished he hadn’t noticed.
It was too good an opportunity to miss.
“So,” Ben said, his tone level but dry, “just to clarify… are you flirting with me, or do you flirt like this with everyone?”
Franco looked at him, clearly unfazed. “Define ‘like this.’”
Ben blinked. “You know what I mean.”
He smirked. “Do I?”
This is getting us nowhere.
Ben bit back a sigh, staring into the flames. “You’ve got this whole routine. The eye contact. The leaning in. The smirking. The ‘accidental’ touches. Honestly, I’m amazed you haven’t burst into a spontaneous tango yet.”
Franco chuckled. “That’s on next week’s schedule.”
Ben glanced at him again. “So?”
There was a beat, and then Franco shifted, sitting forward slightly, the humour fading from his features but not entirely gone. “You annoyed?”
Ben hesitated. “No.”
“Flattered?”
A longer hesitation this time. “Also no.” Franco arched a brow, and Ben exhaled, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Okay. Maybe. A bit.”
Franco smiled. “Ben.”
“It’s…” He frowned. “I’m trying to do a job here. And every time I turn around, someone’s giving me side-eyes like we’re already a thing. As if they know something I don’t.”
Franco didn’t answer immediately, his gaze flicking to the fire, apparently deep in thought. Finally, he pushed out a long sigh.
“I don’t flirt because they expect me to,” he said at last. “And I don’t flirt with everyone.”
Ben gave him a sceptical look.
“I’m charming with everyone,” Franco corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Ben snorted.
Franco looked at him again, more serious now. “But with you? Yeah, I’ve been pushing a bit.” Ben stared at him, and he chuckled. “Okay, maybe a lot, but not because it’s a game or a joke.”
“Then why?” Ben asked.
Franco’s gaze met his. “Because I like you. Although I wasn’t sure what you’d do with that.”
Ben frowned once more. “You assumed I’d either kiss you or file an HR complaint?”
“Honestly?” Franco let out another sigh. “I was hoping for a combination of the two.”
Ben looked away again, shaking his head but smiling despite himself. “You are so bloody annoying.”
Franco didn’t disagree.
The fire crackled between them. Somewhere in the next room, someone laughed, probably at something deeply inappropriate.
Ben leaned back, letting the silence settle. “I don’t know what this is, but I don’t hate it.”
Franco tilted his head. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me in that tone.”
Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “Just ease up a little? I’m not saying stop, but how about less ‘public spectacle,’ more… ‘subtle intrigue.’”
Franco grinned. “Subtle intrigue. Got it. Like Victorian yearning with a twist of modern smoulder.”
Ben gave him a dry look. “And now I’m starting to regret opening my mouth.”
He didn’t move away from the fire, however, and for once Franco didn’t push. He simply gazed into the flickering flames, letting the silence stretch long and warm between them.
Are we going to take things further?
Ben knew he wanted to. It was no longer a question of if, but when.
The trip back to Adelaide was as noisy as the outbound drive, but Ben let it roll over him. Franco was seated next to him again, and Ben was even more aware of his presence than he’d been a few hours before. Their thighs touched, and their eyes met and held, a long, heavy beat that seemed to gather up the whole day and condense it into a single, bright thread pulling between them.
Franco’s gaze softened, his mouth tipping into a half-shy, half-knowing smile. It was the same look he’d given Ben in the restaurant, the night he’d made Ben dinner, the rain lashing against the windows.
Then Franco raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t an aggressive stare but a coaxing invitation. Ben could hear the unspoken words.
You feel this too, don’t you?
God help him, he did.
Maybe it was this realisation that made him read more into Franco’s expression.
We could go further, it seemed to say. We’re already halfway across the threshold.
Ben swallowed hard. The air seemed to thicken around him, every sound blurring except the rush of blood in his ears and Franco’s gentle breathing.
He held Franco’s gaze longer than he meant to, the memory of Franco’s touch still burning hot in his mind.
Franco reached out, slow and deliberate, and brushed his fingers over Ben’s wrist, a careful touch as if he was testing the edge of a flame.
Ben didn’t flinch this time. He turned his hand over and let Franco’s palm slide against his, their fingers fitting together as though they’d been made to lock that way. A tremor shivered through Ben’s chest, sharp and bright. He felt raw and impossibly open, as if all his old armour had been stripped away. Only this time, it didn’t feel like a threat.
It felt like a beginning.
Franco traced slow circles against Ben’s skin with his thumb, and Ben expelled a breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, Franco was leaning closer, his eyes shining with something quiet and fierce.
And fuck, the heat in his eyes was talking louder than words ever could.
Ben hoped to God he was reading this right, because that look said Let me know you. Let me touch you.
Then Franco’s breathing hitched, and he mouthed Come home with me.
Holy fucking God.
Ben’s throat worked. Every instinct screamed at him to pull back, to make some joke or move away, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Instead, he squeezed Franco’s hand once and mouthed one word.
Yes.
Franco’s face broke into a slow, radiant grin, and he leaned in closer, pressing their shoulders together.
Around them, the others still talked and laughed, but it all blurred into an indistinct hum. Ben and Franco were locked into a small, secret space between them, where there was only heat and breath and the soft weight of Franco’s hand.
A sensation caught in Ben’s chest, a thread pulling tight and then releasing, flooding him with a reckless, electric relief. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like a man stranded on the outside looking in, but instead he was tethered to something wild and real and devastatingly gentle. He knew he was standing on dangerous ground, that he was already halfway gone. But as he sat there, Franco’s touch burning into his pulse, he didn’t feel afraid.
He felt alive.
Tonight, I won’t pull away.
Tonight, he would follow Franco home.
Eleven
“Is it much farther?” Ben asked. He kept stealing glances at Franco as they walked, as if to convince himself this was real: the gentle slope of Franco’s shoulders in the streetlight, his eyes darting to Ben every few steps, as if making sure Ben was still there.
“We’re nearly there.” Franco gestured to their surroundings. “This is Black Forest. I’ve lived here about six years. It’s a nice neighbourhood, handy for the restaurant.”
“I appreciate you waiting until the others had all gone their separate ways before heading home.”
Franco’s lips twitched. “Okay, two things about that. I figured you’d feel a bit awkward if I asked you to come back to my flat in front of everyone.”
Ben chuckled. “And you’d be right. What’s the other thing?”
His eyes gleamed. “They’re not stupid, so don’t delude yourself into thinking we got away with it.”
Ben wasn’t paying much attention to the bare trees that lined the avenue. His mind kept flashing to that look on Franco’s face in the van on the way home: open, gentle, as though he had been offering something fragile and precious in his palms.
A look that had terrified Ben and undone him in the same instant.
He remembered other things, too, from his pre-Adelaide life: nights alone in a too-large bed, how he’d trained himself to escape every sexual encounter he’d ever been through before intimacy could seep in.
