Page 50 of Between the Lines
21
Caden
The journalist arrives at 2:00 PM on Tuesday, right on time, with a photographer in tow. She’s way too eager to meet me and is looking around Good Grinds like she stepped into the Sistine Chapel.
“It’s so nice to meet you. I love this place—and I’m not just saying that.” Smiling widely, she holds out a hand.
“Thank you.” I shake her hand as she nods vigorously. “We closed the cafe for an hour. Hope that’s sufficient time.”
She turns to mumble something to the photographer behind her, setting up the tripod.
Fia is straightening up behind the barista counter. She’s ditched her signature french braids in lieu of loose curls. They cascade around her sun-kissed face and hang over a cropped white shirt with the Good Grinds logo.
When Fia brought the idea of merch up to me, I literally laughed. But ultimately I humored her idea, sure it would be a waste of money. That was five months ago. We can barely keep our shirts and baseball caps in stock now.
The shirt looks good on her.
“This is my manager, Fia.” I gesture to Fia, who smiles brightly at the journalist. “I’ll let her show you around.” I turn towards my office but pause, remembering my manners. “I’ll be in the back, out of the way.”
I look at Fia, whose hands are in the back pockets of her embroidered jean shorts. She looks comfortable as ever with these strangers. “Come get me if you need me,” I tell her, and she nods, her glossed lips in an easy smirk.
For once, I don’t retreat to the privacy of my office. I settle into a bentwood chair at the small marble table in the back of the cafe, laptop open in front of me.
It’s not long though before my gaze is pulled towards the pretty red-head who’s just as enthusiastic as the people the magazine sent.
“One of my favorite things about Good Grinds is the energy!” Fia beams as the journalist types notes, nodding along. “When it’s busy, there’s just a buzz in here. People wait in line for so long sometimes, but everyone always leaves happy.” She shrugs, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I can honestly say I love coming to work every day.”
Her green eyes sweep to the side, and she catches me watching. I swallow hard, offering her a slight nod.
Though, she doesn’t need my encouragement. She’s doing perfect.
Her cheeks blush before she turns back to the journalist.
“Would you like to give us a tour?” she asks, and Fia begins to show them around. The photographer snaps photos as Fia points to things.
She’s animated as she points out the hanging plants—the ones I’ve never watered but are somehow thriving. Because of her.
The trio come towards me, Fia leading the way. She turns to talk to them over her shoulder. “I’ll show you the outside—it was beautifully renovated. Caden spearheaded that last summer.”
She faces forward, trotting along confidently, and winks at me.
I bite my cheek so hard I think I taste iron, and abruptly stand. The chair scrapes loudly against the tile, causing everyone’s heads to jolt up.
“I’ll be in my office—come get me when you need me,” I say, pulling my brows together and grabbing my laptop, pretending I have something important to do. I dip my head, slinking around the group to shut myself into my office.
Inside, it’s dark, and I don’t bother turning on any lights but the small lamp on my desk.
Let’s be honest, I’m not getting any work done this afternoon. Not while they are here, and not while Fia is parading around with a smile like that, in shorts that hug her curves so tightly my heart races just thinking about it.
I browse online, mindlessly adding clothes I have no intention of buying to a shopping cart, just to give myself something to focus on.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but there’s a knock on my door. I clear my throat and stand to open it, plastering on a professional smile.
“All wrapped up?” I ask, hopeful, but the journalist shakes her head.
“Mr. Brooks, I actually have a few questions for you, if you wouldn’t mind coming out to answer them?”
“It’s just Caden,” I reply. “Mr. Brooks is my father. And yes, of course.”
