Page 29 of Between the Lines

I can’t deny that. And I can’t deny that not being charged rent is also the best-case scenario. But I’m not thrilled he will be right there, able to see when I come and go and . . .

“You know you can trust me, right?” I ask, my voice snappy.

Caden keeps walking towards the car, loading my crap into his arms. He picked up the heaviest box but makes no show of it as the sleeves of his shirt strain against his shoulders. “Of course I trust you, I wouldn’t have promoted you if I didn’t.”

I cross my arms over my chest, reaching for the ninety-nine-cent sunglasses resting on my head. I pull them over my eyes.

“So me moving into your backyard doesn’t have anything to do with you wanting to keep tabs on me or make sure I’m not late to work again?”

Caden’s jaw tightens, then he smirks. It’s jarring. It’s the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile from this man. “No, Fia. Like I said, I need my manager to be able to function to keep my business running. It’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of.”

But there’s a flicker around his eyes. He seems to be having a hard time looking at me.

I narrow my eyes for a brief moment. What choice do I have, really?

“Okay,” I say with a sigh and continue moving.

I grab Hamburger from the car, who hisses at me from his carrier. Inside the cool guesthouse, I find Caden leaning on the kitchen counter, facing the front door.

He catches my gaze under unfairly thick lashes and motions for me to come close.

“Here, I want you to see this.” He holds out his phone, showing me cameras at different angles on the property.

I rip my sunglasses off and grimace.

“I keep this place pretty secure, but you’ll have all the privacy you need. I have no interest in your whereabouts outside of work. Treat this place like home.”

I exhale, setting Hamburger down next to the little dining table. I peel my eyes away from Caden’s, looking out the window.

It is nice. And it’s very quiet. Peaceful. I think Daisy will sleep well here.

“It’s not privacy I’m worried about,” I reply, my anxiety hitching up my heart rate. I round my back to lean against the countertop across from him. The marble is cool through my thin shirt. “It might be disruptive for me to be here . . . You do know that sometimes Daisy cries at night and it’s loud.”

Caden straightens, walking back outside, ignoring me again. I follow with haste.

“That seems like a normal thing toddlers do,” he finally replies with a small shrug.

Has he always been this hot and cold, or have I simply not spent enough time around him to notice?

“All I’m trying to say is that I want you to be super sure you’re okay with this. My daughter has meltdowns occasionally, and I like to listen to my music kind of loud when I make dinner, and Hamburger, well you know how cats can be—”

He stops and turns to gaze at me, not even a sliver out of breath from the heavy boxes he’s been hauling. I, for one, feel like I’ve been trying to catch my breath since I got out of the car.

I just really need to know that in a few days, after seeing my unfiltered life outside of work, he isn’t going to change his mind. What if he sees how messy my homelife is and second-guesses his choice of putting so much faith in me at Good Grinds?

“If I can hear you from inside my home, then I did a shit job of insulating my house.” Caden takes a few steps closer to me. For a second, it looks like he’s going to place his hands on my shoulders, but of course he doesn’t—he’s my boss. That would be totally inappropriate.

“Yeah, things happened fast, but I know what I’m getting into by having you stay here. Believe me.” He rests a box on his hip, sighing. “Listen, this setup is only for six weeks. It’ll pass before we know it. We’ll barely see each other outside of work. I’ll stay in my house, you’ll stay in the guesthouse. Don’t overthink it, Hanson.”

“Right. Fine. Okay.” I say no more on that matter and help him unload the rest of my stuff in silence.

If it’s no big deal to him, then it’s no big deal to me.

I’ll think of the pool as the middle line. We’ll each stay on our respective sides.

“Thanks for your help,” I say quickly as he drops the last of my belongings inside. My eyes sweep over all the crap I have to unpack. I might’ve brought too much, but hindsight and all.

“If you have questions about the guesthouse, you know how to reach me,” he says, before walking out.