Page 77 of Between the Lines

I nod.

Then—before I can stop myself—I reach for her, brushing a smear of strawberry from her bottom lip with my thumb.

I don’t pull away.

My hand stays against her jaw.

The breeze blows a wavy lock of blond hair into my eyes, but our gazes hold.

“Thank you,” Fia replies breathlessly, breaking me of my spell, and I pull my hand away. She dips her head, taking one last bite of her cone.

“Didn’t want you to get it on your dress,” I reply low, leaning my back against the metal bar, so we are facing each other. Her, looking over the dark water. Me, facing the lights and people and music playing through open restaurant windows.

“Do you like my dress?” she asks, swaying her hips side to side, the green material billowing around her.

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice husky. “You are beautiful.”

Fia stops swaying, swirls of deep emerald staring up at me.

“It’s getting late. We should get you home,” I say, ruining the moment.

Fia looks away quickly, and her arms retreat to her sides. I stifle a sigh as we walk in silence back to the parked car. And we remain in a tense silence for the fifteen-minute drive home. As I pull onto my quiet, dark street, the tall pines cast shadows from the full moon, swallowing me whole, and I still find no words to say to her. It’s like vines have wrapped themselves around my heart, my lungs, restricting me from doing anything, anything at all.

We step out of the car and into the humid night in sync. Fia shuts her door softly.

“Thank you for being my guest tonight,” I say. My words are rigid.

They aren’t enough.

Fia bobs her head in response, half her body in shadow. She clutches her small purse but remains standing firmly where she is.

Finally she lifts her head, glancing up at me with those doe eyes that bring me to my knees.

“So, what now?” Fia chokes out.

The lights in the pool cast glimmering sparkles across her face as she waits for me to answer.

I shove my hands in my pockets, everything in me screaming.

“What do you mean?” I ask with a half smile, knowing damn well what she means.

Fia tilts her head, directing a long gaze at me with eyes that grow glossy. “You’re just what—going to go into your house and finish the night alone? And I’m supposed to go into the guesthouse, fifty feet from you, and pretend that . . .”

“Fia—” I warn. I shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t feel every muscle in my body clenching tighter—but I take a step closer to her. Mere inches remain between us.

“Caden, why do you keep helping me?” she whispers, chin tilting up to look me fully in the eyes. “And don’t say it’s because I’m the best employee ever, or whatever, because I’m not buying it anymore. I’m not naive.” Her voice cracks and I rub the back of my neck.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Fia, we can’t do it,” I growl, but I’m not so sure I even believe the words as they slip past my lips.

“Can’t do what exactly?” Fia crosses her arms over her chest, brows pinched together. “You’ve invited me to live here, you have become a part of me and my daughter’s life. If you didn’t want to cross a line with me, I’m afraid that ship has sailed,” she replies, hurt lacing every word.

I shift my weight back, putting distance between us.

“You don’t understand, I can’t risk—”

“Risk what? Risk the business? I’m not going to quit,” Fia snaps, but then her face softens. “If it’s not clear enough, I need this job. Are you afraid of what other people will think, or am I not good enough for you?”

“No, Fia.” I clench my fist, my throat tight. “I don’t want to risk messing everything up. We work well together. Professionally.”