Page 72 of Between the Lines

“Uhm . . .” She shakes her head, pulling on the tip of her french braid. “No, I’m free.”

“Good.” I flash a cocky smirk. “Then I’d like to take you to the awards dinner.”

Fia stares, stunned. “Oh, okay.” She begins twirling the gold bracelets on her wrist. “Are you sure? I thought you hated those events.”

I shift my weight. “I do . . . but this isn’t about me.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t force you to go, but this award is just as much yours as it is mine,” I add with a racing heart.

Regardless of how I feel about Fia, nothing negates the truth that she deserves to be seen.

A small smile finally breaks across her face.

“I’ll need to line up a sitter,” she says, seriously.

“Of course,” I reply, my voice low.

Fia tilts her head, eyes narrowed in thought. “What’s the dress code?”

I pull up the email on my phone. “I will forward you the details right now.”

“Cool.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “I’m excited. It’ll be fun I think.”

I simply smirk in response because not in a million years would I consider this event fun, but as she stands before me with a soft grin, I believe her.

Maybe it will be fun—for both of us.

She takes a few steps towards the door, thumb over her shoulder. “I should get back out there, we have been slammed for three hours straight—”

“Hold on, there’s one more thing.” I pull out my wallet and hand her a credit card. “Take this, and buy whatever you need for the dinner. A dress, shoes, if you want to wear a Santa suit, I could give two shits. Whatever makes you happy.”

Fia reached for it hesitantly, eyes locked on mine before they drop the black card.

“Caden, this is your personal card, not the business card.” Her voice catches, brows pinched together. “Don’t you want to write it off as a business expense or whatever?”

I shove my wallet back in my pocket and walk towards the door.

“I know what card I gave you.” My voice is gravely, her green eyes snap to mine. “This isn’t a business expense. This is me telling you to buy whatever the hell you want because you deserve it.”

“I deserve a dress?” Her question is barely above a whisper.

“You deserve so much more,” I reply, and before I do something I can’t take back, I step back to let her pass through the door.

We go our separate ways without another word, but I pause at the back door, and glance over my shoulder down the hall, watching her walk back into the role she excels at.

I either just did the most reckless thing I’ve done since I hired her . . . or the bravest.

And for the first time, I’m not sure I care which it is.

30

Fia

The salty air kisses my cheeks as I lounge under the umbrella. Cloudless blue skies shimmy above, and the sound of kids playing in the sand surrounds me. Heaven.

I prop myself up on my elbows just in time to see Danny and Jesse dive into the ocean like they are carefree twelve year olds again.