Page 52 of Between the Lines

What the fuck?

I cock my head back. I don’t like them telling Fia what to do.

But Fia’s emerald eyes find mine, and she flashes me the tiniest grin.

“Let’s get this over with so you can leave,” she whispers, loud enough so only I can hear here.

Gratitude floods me and I roll my shoulders out.

Fia leads me through making another drink, and the photographer shouts ridiculous instructions as we move around each other in a staged charade.

Fia smiles and laughs, even though I’m not saying a word. By the last photo, I can’t help but crack a smile at her. She saved my ass.

“Perfect! We got it. A powerhouse duo—we love it.” The journalist pushes a fist triumphantly in the air, and I widen my eyes, unsure how to even react.

“See, Mr. Brooks,” Fia teases, playfully nudging my arm as she scoots around me, “wasn’t so bad, huh?”

I breathe out, fighting to keep my resolve.

“Yeah, thank you.”

The magazine duo packs up their equipment. “Alright, we will be in touch with the final spread.”

I shake their hands, saying the proper goodbyes, and Fia walks the journalist to the door, getting ready to reopen the shop.

The journalist pauses at the door, turning to Fia. “Will I be seeing you at the awards dinner?”

Fia crinkles her brows in response, casting me a long look.

I force a smirk. “Oh—no. Not really our thing.”

The journalist frowns. “Aw, that’s a shame. It’s such a fun night!”

Fia merely smiles in response and holds open the door for the team to leave.

I cross my arms, waiting for the door to shut. A hush falls over the cafe.

“What dinner was she talking about?” Fia asks, eyeing me as she turns the music back on.

“Just one of those pointless PR events. You have to get all dressed up, and they present you with the top-ten plaque. It’s pompous. They’ll just mail the plaque to us anyway.”

“Oh.” Her voice is small. “Yeah, that’s not your thing.”

Why do I feel like I fucked this up, like my answer upset her.

“You’re good to head out. Halle and Leah should be here any minute to take over—” Fia starts, but she is interrupted by the front door chiming.

We both turn to look.

A tall guy with black hair and tattoos spanning every visible inch of skin steps inside. I notice the way Fia’s breath catches when her eyes land on him.

“Jesse.” She chuckles nervously. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t move as he walks right up to Fia.

“We need to talk, Fi,” he says, towering over her. His tone makes my hackles rise.

Fia exhales. “I’ll be off work in ten minutes. Just wait out back for me, okay?”