Page 34 of Between the Lines

An unrealistically buff, shirtless man spans the cover.

I set it back down exactly as it was.

There are six books here, which—compared to the singular book on my nightstand that I’ve been reading for two months—strikes me as ambitious.

An empty coffee mug sits next to a pink sippy cup on the coffee table too, and in the corner of the sectional is a little nest of random toys. A block, a baby doll, and a wooden spatula from the kitchen. Sun pours in from the window and lights up the linen sofa with a large knit blanket strewn across the back. Yellow with daisies on it. Not mine.

My heart does something weird.

I guess it’s nice to see that she’s made herself at home, that someone is getting use out of this space, considering it’s just me here.

Most days I’m not sure why I even built this guesthouse—it’s not like I have anyone to invite to stay here.

On that note, I turn to leave, pulling the door securely shut behind me.

And I promptly slam right into—

“Fia?”

She skips backwards and I reach out, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling. Our hands connect, her much smaller one disappearing into mine. For a moment, our eyes hold, our hands still clasped. Her chest rises in rhythm with my bare one, until she blinks hard, and straightens, crossing her arms.

“What were you doing in there?” The accusation in her tone is warranted.

I look down at my very bare chest, and my shirt held in a clump in my hand.

“I’m not—” I’m caught off guard by the look on her face, like I’ve betrayed her trust. “I’m sorry, I thought you were gone—”

“So you went through the place?” She glances back towards the driveway. Her car is running with all the windows rolled down, and two tiny arms move in the backseat. “I came back—I forgot Daisy’s teething ring.”

Gripping my balled-up shirt, I narrow my eyes a bit, still jaded by that damn cat.

“Well, you forgot to shut the door, and your cat escaped, so I was simply returning him.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen as her cheeks turn pink. “Shoot. I’m sorry.”

I suck in a breath, my chest tightening with regret for my earlier tone. “It’s fine. Luckily, I grabbed him before he ran into the tree line.”

Her eyes roam over my shoulders, and I glance over hers, hoping for once that Matt is running a few minutes late.

Fingers touch my chest. Fia traces my pectoral muscle, and I flinch, the heat coursing from her fingertips through my skin, settling low in my abdomen.

“He scratched you—” she whispers.

I don’t even look—nor did I notice—I can focus only on the warmth of her touch on my skin. Our eyes meet, and she snaps her hand away, like I burned her.

I clear my throat. “I’ll clean it up. Just be more careful, there’s a lot of wildlife around.”

Fia’s face turns a shade brighter, her lips pursed. Like she’s holding her breath.

“I have a first aid kit,” she murmurs, voice strangled. “I can grab it real quick, just let me get Daisy out of the car—”

“Fia.”

Her green eyes find my chest, lingering there on the blood beading down three hairline scratches. If eye contact could be felt, I’d feel it now. It’s like a shiver.

“It’s a tiny scratch,” I say, huskier than I expect. “I’ve had way worse. You should get going, don’t want to be late for work.”

She snaps out of it. “Right.”