9. Caden
CHAPTER 9
Caden
Maura stabs at a slice of pork.
“You’re more stupid than you look if you think I’d waste my labour budget just to bring in a woman to raise your heart rate,” she spits, pointing her fork, which looks suspiciously like a weapon, in my direction.
“That’s what paying guests are for,” Bill chortles by her side.
He’s quickly met with a swat to the arm. Something has pissed Maura off today, that much is clear.
“Why did you hire her then?” I counter. “It’s not like we’re short on staff for the season.”
Bill shakes his head next to me, throwing a slab of meat under the table for Doug. He’s already learned a valuable lesson that I’m yet to master - never start an argument with Maura McCullough, unless you’re ready to lose.
“You really ought to learn to keep your nose in your own business, Caden.” Her words are pointed .
I raise my eyebrow in her direction. This woman hasn’t kept her nose in her own business a day in her life.
“If you must know, I hired her because her email… rambling as it might have been… broke my heart.” Pain moves across her face as she gestures with her hands. “And once I spoke to her, I could see that the girl needs a fresh start, a chance to heal wounds that she’s been living with for far too long. You, of all people, should understand that.”
I grind my teeth, stone-faced as she tries to pull at the heartstrings I’ve spent the best part of adulthood trying to sever ties with.
“When your parents died, this place saved me. I showed up with you two kids and all of my broken bits in a backpack. Starting over here helped me to piece myself back together. I met Bill, and I fell in love with the land, and suddenly I had something to live for again.” She bites her lip. “God forbid I want to give that to someone else. That girl is broken, but I see the fire in her. I know it, because it’s the same fire that was in me all those years ago.”
At that, I’ve lost all of the fight in me.
“Millie stays,” she affirms. “We’ll find the work.”
I spend the rest of the evening trying to push down memories of my parents. I’ve gotten pretty good at relegating thoughts of them to the back of my mind, but that’s a little harder when someone spreads their memory out in front of you at the kitchen table.
I don’t have it in me to deal with missing them right now.
I take another swig of my beer.
Whether unfairly or not, I hadn’t pinned Millie as the type of person who had any real-life problems. When I accused her of running from something, I’d expected it to be a fling with her boss or some other trivial personal crisis. Something that might hurt on the surface but wouldn’t cause enough pain to grow deeper roots.
Maura’s admission has me doubting myself.
One half of me is caught up in a dance with guilt, wondering if I was too much of an asshole to her earlier. The other half is still secretly hoping she has one foot out the door, ready to run back home.
Nothing good could come from the way my body reacted to seeing her for the first time.
If Maura won’t send Millie packing, then my only other option is to avoid her at all costs.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I avoid coming in contact with those freckles and that button nose again any time soon.