I looked at him worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Ben gritted out between coughs. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” He coughed a few times then took a drink. “Enough about me, what’s going on with you? Are you really happy at that diner?”
I looked down at my sandwich and picked at the oat flakes on the crust. “It’s complicated.”
“Most things in life seem to be.”
I could feel Ben’s gaze on me. Thinking about me. Wondering about my life. Probably wondering why anyone would stay in such a miserable job.
“I never wanted to work in the diner, actually.” The words burst out of me without a thought.
Ben blinked. “So why are you there, then?”
“It’s complicated, like I said. It was my dad’s restaurant.” I sat back against the bench seat as I remembered how much of life had revolved around the diner. “When I was little, I had a booth in the back where I colored, and later, did my homework. I grew up there. And god, I hated it. I hated the smell of it—fry oil, usually. I hated how everything in my life was about the diner. I couldn’t take dance lessons when I was little because my dad had to work and there was no one else to take me. Sometimes it felt like my dad loved that place more than me.”
“What happened? How’d you go from that to working there now?”
“My dad married Lydia, and suddenly he was busy with her. And her daughters. He had time to takethemto dance classes.” I looked down and shrugged. “At least I got to go to dance classes, too.” I took a long drink from my rum and coke as a strained silence stretched between us.
“So, what would you be doing if it was up to you? What did little Emma want to be when she grew up?”
I sent him a small smile as he deftly changed the topic to something less toxic. “A dancer. I’ve always wanted to dance. When I was little, I really wanted to be a ballerina, but once I started taking lessons I found I had more of an affinity with contemporary and hip hop.”
“Hip hop?” Ben’s eyebrows went up. “Really? I thought you didn’t like that music.”
“I never said that. What I said was I didn’t like angry music. And since when israphip hop?”
“Touché.” Ben’s eyes sparkled as he took another bite. He chewed and swallowed before asking, “So dance, huh? That’s what you want to do?”
“It is.” I nodded firmly, my thoughts going to the envelope Gwen had left me and the money she and James had pooled together for me. It was enough to start a fresh life in LA. But saying the words out loud made them too real, and I wasn’t ready to face that just yet. “That’s what I want to do. What about you? Did you always want to be a producer? Why not sing yourself? Or rap, I guess.”
Ben coughed again, then thumped his chest. “I kinda fell into my job. Just one of those things that started out as fun, screwing around with friends, and then somehow it became a real job. And I guess that happened when my dad started booking me jobs and became my de facto manager.”
“Huh. I didn’t know producers had managers, but I guess it makes sense. He handles the business side, and you get to do the creative?”
Ben ducked his head and picked at his sandwich. “Something like that. Or supposed to be like that anyhow.”
“What do you mean? You and your dad not getting along?” I gave him a sympathetic smile.
“You could say that.” He shrugged. “Once the money started rolling in, it’s like our roles reversed. Now I’m the one making rules for him. My dad’s so busy partying and spending money that he’s not much of a dad anymore. Or even a manager really.”
“I’m sorry.” I reached across the table and rubbed his hand.
Ben gave me a tight smile. “That really killed the mood, didn’t it?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Not for me. There’s something about a guy being vulnerable that is undeniably sexy.”
“Oh really?” Ben pursed his lips, and his eyes did that sparkling thing.
To have all of this gorgeous man’s attention on me, like I was the one thing in this world he wanted above all else, made all thought stop. My heart pounded, and my nipples tingled in counterpoint.
“Sexy, huh? That’s what I was thinking when I was trying just to keep up with you today. The way you grinded on me to Careless Company, and then holding you on the beach…” He shook his head. “This has been the best fucking day.”
“That’s my line,” I whispered.
Ben tilted his head. “You about done there?”
I nodded. I didn’t even need to look. Whatever was left on my plate wouldn’t be as delicious as the man in front of me.
