Page 95 of Fifth Avenue Flirt

“Really quick,” I say. “He’s been working on it all week.”

“Then why…I don’t get it. Oh! He likes you. He wanted an excuse to…be close to you.”

I frown. That doesn’t sound like Ben. Does it? He’s usually super clear about what he wants. “I don’t know why he had me move in. It’s weird.”

“Did anything happen between you two?”

“What do you mean?” My voice comes out slightly higher than usual. When I turn to look at Poppy, her expression tells me I’m busted.

“Oh,” says Poppy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Come on, I’ve known you since you were born, Avril. What happened? Have you two been boning this entire time? Do you like him? Did you actually fall in love with him?”

I slump down on my chair. The jig is up. I’m busted.

I give Poppy a full rundown of my week. How fun it’s been, how well we got along and also how romantic Ben is. I’ve never had any man I’ve dated put in the effort that Ben did to our dates. And I know he has a lot of resources at his disposal, but I would have been just as likely to fall in love with him if we’d stayed in and ordered DoorDash.

“And nothing ever happened? Like, no kiss or⁠—”

“Just one night,” I say. “We kind of agreed on a time-out.” I give her the outline of what happened and try not to get that feeling of fireworks going off in my stomach every time I think about that night.

“So, what now? You obviously like each other. Are you going to date or what?”

“I didn’t say I liked him,” I reply.

Poppy rolls her eyes. “Come on. You very obviously like him.”

“And he’s very obviously not a good idea. He’s…more complicated than he comes off. His job is to have everyone like and trust him. He’s very good at it.”

“What’s so bad about that? Are you saying that he manipulated you into liking him?” she says.

I shake my head. “No. I don’t think that. I don’t think he manipulates anyone. He shows them the version of himself that they’re most likely to connect with, but he’s always the person he presents himself as.” I think I saw the most versions of Ben. I saw the pissed-off version, the slightly irritated version, the bed-rotting version—no one else ever saw that.

“Everyone likes him and he’s authentic. So, what’s the problem? Ask him out on a date.”

“I can’t. He’s helping me with Boston. He doesn’t want to mix the personal and professional, despite our time-out, and I’ve got to respect that.” Ben’s deliberately put himself in a position where he has the power to make things happen and get things done. In turn, that means people need his help. I need his help. The entire reason I agreed to move in with him was because I wanted something from him.

“Maybe he’ll make an exception for you.”

It’s like someone is playing the double bass inside my chest as a dull sonorous string inside me is plucked. “Every woman wants to be the exception for a man they like. But I’m more realistic than that.” At least I want to be. “He’s a nice guy and we had some sexual chemistry. That’s it.” My voice sounds hollow, even to me.

“I guess you can see how it goes on Thursday.”

“Why Thursday?” I ask in confusion.

“Because you’ll both be going up to Boston.”

My heart flutters a little in my chest. Will Ben come? “I don’t think Ben would be going. He’s always so busy. Now that he’s found the seller, I’m sure he’ll leave the rest to me.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think so. If he’s as good as Worth seems to think he is, he’ll want to see the deal through to the finish line—that’s his reputation. And maybe it’s a good excuse to see you again.”

“Why would he need an excuse?” I ask. “Ben’s the kind of guy who knows what he wants and goes for it. If he wanted me, I would be in no doubt.” The words taste bitter as they come out of my mouth, because I realize what I’m saying is true. Ben is great at asking for what he wants. And getting it. He’s told me he’s into me. Maybe that’s true but that doesn’t mean he can get over the fact that he’s helping me with the Boston hotel.

If he wanted me, he’d say so.

And he hasn’t. So he doesn’t.