20. Fia
Fia
My foot bounces incessantly under this gorgeous kitchen table. I trace the wood grain when Caden isn’t paying attention—it looks like European salvaged pine. I’m impressed with his taste.
But that is exactly why I feel like I’ve entered some type of twilight zone. The man sitting next to me in a button-down shirt cannot be Caden Brooks—my grumpy, emotionless, quiet boss.
If it wasn’t for him, I’d be standing over the stove eating processed fake-cheese pasta directly out of a pot tonight.
I wait for him to take the first bite, then I take a bite of salmon. He’s put some type of honey and rosemary glaze on the fish that literally makes it melt in my mouth. And I moan like a freaking porn star, recoiling instantly as I pop my eyes open and am met with Caden’s amused stare.
“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth, face on fire.
“The food’s that bad, huh?” he teases, and I swallow hard, completely thrown off my axis by his genuine smirk.
“It’s horrible. The worst I’ve ever had,” I reply playfully.
Oh my gosh, I think I just flirted with him.
Caden forks another bite. “I’ve been perfecting this recipe for years, so I’m glad to hear you hate it.”
I take another huge bite, covering my mouth with my hand again.
“Loathe it, actually. You suck at cooking,” I add.
Caden laughs. An actual laugh?
Yes, this is a dream. I’m sure of it now.
Daisy bangs on the pot, panting like a happy puppy, barely noticing me right here.
“So, tell me,” I say. “If you’re such a chef, why not open a restaurant? Why a coffee shop?” I stab smaller pieces onto my fork, holding back from inhaling every delectable morsel.
He touches his fork to his potatoes. “Coffee is business, simple economics. But cooking is something just for me.”
“Separation of pleasure and business,” I say simply, but when I look up, his eyes read of something I didn’t expect to see.
A flash of sadness maybe.
“I understand,” I add politely.
Caden might be standoffish, but he’s also a man of integrity. He’s made it no secret what his business means to him if he’s willing to do so much to help me out. His coffee shop manager.
Caden pulls out his phone and hits play on a music app. Acoustic pop plays through the speakers in the ceiling. Very fancy.
“Speaking of business,” I say, studying my salmon like it’s much more interesting than his face, “I wanted to let you know, I worked out my budget, and I can start paying you back next pay. I can send you the money monthly, or in installments. Whatever works best for you.”
I’ve already been here for a week, and I don’t want him to think that I’m not serious about paying back the loan. Every last cent.
He doesn’t respond though, he just continues eating like he didn’t hear me.
The house feels much quieter than it did a few seconds ago, and for a moment I question if I actually said those words out loud or just in my head. With my fork awkwardly hovering over my plate, I shift my gaze.
Caden takes a sip of his bourbon, gray eyes locking on mine over the thick glass.
“Let’s not worry about it right now.” He shakes his head.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“The work on the house isn’t even done. Why don’t you wait until you see it?” He takes another sip, then digs back into his meal, leaning against the chair. “Then we can talk about it.”
I scoff, dropping my fork and placing my hands in my lap.
“I’m not comfortable with that. I owe you twelve thousand dollars. It’s not like you loaned me gas money.”
Caden watches me, steadily.
Daisy babbles, pulling herself to her feet and peering around the kitchen for something to bang her wooden spoon on.
Caden remains silent, and the air in my lungs feels pressurized.
“Okay.” I break the tension, keeping one eye on my daughter.
“I’ll wait, but in the meantime, let me do something for you.
You’re literally saving me from my siblings selling my house, and you’re giving me and my daughter a nice place to stay rent-free.
” I look at him pointedly. “Can I help weed the garden or something?” I ask, embarrassed at how ridiculous that sounds.
Caden’s lips twist in contemplation. “Okay. Fine.” He sits forward, elbows on the table. “There is something I need your help with.”
“Sure, name it,” I reply, eager.
Daisy pads over to me, arms up, and I lift her onto my lap.
Caden rubs the back of his neck, brows pulled tight. “I need you to do an interview with Wilmington Life this week. We got named the best coffee shop, and the magazine wants to interview us for a spread, take a few photos . . .”
My face breaks into a huge smile.
“Caden! That’s incredible!” I nearly bounce out of my chair. Even Daisy picks her head up to look at me. “But it’s your business, don’t you need to be the one to do this?”
He sighs, cocking his head back, dark blond hair curling up at the nape of his neck. “I’ll be there to answer the questions, but let’s be real, it’s your show Fia.”
My cheeks blush, even though he’s said this to me before.
“I’m just the money behind it,” he adds, “but you’re the heart of the business. I want you to lead it, to show them around.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, eyes narrowed.
“Nothing would make me happier.” Caden smirks. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, I’m not great with people.”
“You’re getting better,” I reply quietly. “Of course I’ll do it, though. It sounds fun.” I sit up straight, scootching back so Daisy can’t grab my knife. “Do you think I’ll be in a photo? I should buy a new tee from our summer merch line . . .”
Caden runs a palm over his chiseled, stubbled jawline. “Take whatever you need. You can be in all the photos, I don’t care. It will make the place look better.” His eyes flick the span of my body. It’s so fast I question if I imagined it . . . and ignore the heat blooming in my belly.
Maybe he’s just being super nice because he really doesn’t want to do this interview. Either way, I’m seeing a side of him I’ve never seen.
It’s softer. And I fear I like it.
“One more thing,” he says, looking a tad bit uneasy. “About last night—you can swim whenever you want. I was having a shit night, didn’t mean to come off as a jerk.”
My breath hitches and I cast my eyes down at Daisy sitting on my lap. Her little fingers scratch at the edge of the wooden table. “It’s fine, really. But thanks for apologizing. Thought for a moment you truly despised me.” I try to smile to lighten the tension.
“Not at all,” he says, huskier than before. Caden’s brows twitch. Like he wants to say something but can’t.
Before we can say more, Daisy begins to rub her eyes. The clock over the stove reads 7:15 PM.
I stand, and she grows heavy and limp in my arms. “I need to get her to bed.”
He nods towards Daisy. “Does she eat salmon?”
“Does she eat salmon?” I ask, tilting my head.
“I’m sorry, I literally have no clue what kids her age eat,” Caden adds sheepishly.
His honesty is refreshing, considering my siblings think they always know exactly what Daisy should and shouldn’t be doing.
“Uhm, she might like it,” I reply, to be polite. “I know I’d eat more.”
“Cool, because I made too much, so please take some back with you.”
Gently, I bounce Daisy and pop her pacifier into her mouth, knowing I have about fifteen minutes before she is conked out.
Caden stands, stepping over the pots on the floor.
“Oh, let me help you clean up.” I awkwardly attempt to squat, but he cuts me off.
“No.” He leans down to get them. “I might be an inexperienced host, but I was raised with manners.”
“Okay.” I continue to rock Daisy back and forth, the flutter in my heart constant as Caden’s gray eyes linger on my face.
“Thanks again for the impromptu toys,” I say, looking at the pots and spoons strewn across the wood floors. “I usually arrive at places more prepared with her. Today has me all disoriented.”
He reaches into a high cabinet, pulling out glass to-go containers. “You don’t need to justify. You have a lot on your plate.”
Daisy lets out a long whine as he places multiple salmon steaks into the container.
“Here—” Caden starts but pauses, his eyes wandering down to Daisy’s half-closed ones. With a glass container in hand, he gestures towards the back door. “I’ll walk you over. Your arms are full.”
My chest throbs because I can’t think of a stubborn response. I’m too tired to say no to the help.
Silently, he walks me to the guesthouse door and punches in the code. The sky behind us is pink, the sun glowing orange with the promise of a good sunset tonight. Warm air rushes against my exposed legs as cicadas buzz in the tall loblolly pines lining the property.
I smile at Caden.
“Thank you, dinner was great.”
He simply nods, pushing the door open for me to walk through.
It’s cool inside, the light walls streaked with a pink glow from the windows.
“The auto shop opens at ten tomorrow morning,” he says from the doorway, hand on the knob. “I can drive you over then?”
“Okay,” I reply, my voice low and hoarse. “See you in the morning.”
After getting Daisy to bed, and my pajamas on, I curl up on the sofa with Hamburger. I pull my knit blanket over my lap and decompress in the cozy silence.
The moment of panic I had standing outside the auto shop today feels like a distant memory now as I sit with a full belly and a fuzzy warm feeling buzzing through my limbs.
Then I remind myself that the only reason dinner happened was because I live forty feet from him.
Under no other circumstances would he have invited me to his house and cooked for me.
Tonight was lovely, and I’m relieved to have a ride tomorrow morning, but I can’t let myself become dependent on him.
My eyes begin closing to the sound of my comfort show playing low on the TV when they suddenly snap open, my heart skipping a beat.
I never called my sister back.