Page 33 of Finding Home

“Just, you know, be yourself and keep showing up. I know you want this, but you can’t act like you’re desperate for her to like you, or she’ll sniff it on you and get the ick.”

Caleb exhales. “Iamdesperate for her to like me, though.”

We stop in front of Dad’s truck and he motions to the keys in my hand.

“Can I drive?”

“Please do. I hate driving.” I toss him the keys and walk around to the passenger side.

“Seriously, Aubrey. Tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do here.”

“Just show your authentic personality a bit more, or else she’ll know you’re kissing her little ass and she won’t respect you.”

“She’stwo.”

“Which is old enough to lose respect for you, if you kiss her ass.”

We slide into our respective seats, with Caleb sighing and exhaling in frustration.

When we’re both situated, he grumbles, “The truth is, the most authentic version of me is desperate for Raine to like me.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s looked in my presence. Feeling a touch of compassion for his plight, I pat his tattooed forearm. “I know, Coobie. I’m sure you feel like you’re between a rock and a hard place.”

He nods. “Time is ticking. The hearing’s in a month.”

“I know, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. Keep showing up and being yourself, as best you can, and soon, she won’t be able to resist you.”

The vulnerability he displayed a moment ago evaporates, replaced by swagger. “Tell me, babysitter,” he says, his tone flirtatious. “Does that same strategy work on big girls, too?”

I roll my eyes. “Just drive, Coobie. It takes an hour to getto Billings, and that’s the maximum amount of time I can sit next to you in a locked car without giving in to the impulse to strangle you to death.”

Caleb chuckles. “You know the expression, ‘The lady doth protest too much?’ That’s you,Aubbey.”

“You know the expression, ‘Shut the fuck up and drive, motherfucker?’ That’s you,Coobie.”

He guffaws. “That’s no way to talk to your boss, Miss Capshaw.”

“You’re not my boss. You’re my . . . what’s the name for someone I’m required to watch over?”

“Your hostage?”

“Myward. You’re my ward, and I’m your guardian. We’re emphaticallynotboss and employee.”

“No? I’m paying for services rendered.”

“If you paid someone to give you piano lessons, would they be your employee? No, they’d be yourteacher. That’s me, except I’m giving youRainelessons. Becoming-a-good-daddy lessons.Being-a-good-and-responsible-person-instead-of-an-entitled-rockstar-manc-childlessons.”

To my surprise, Caleb cracks up again. “Glad to hear it. That’s a huge relief, honestly.”

I turn to look at him, confused. I just insulted the man, after all. Why isn’t he mad at me? “What’s a relief?”

“That you don’t consider me to be your boss.” He flashes a wicked grin. “I’m pretty sure it’s a no-no for abossto want to fuck hisemployee,after all.”

My jaw hangs open as my cheeks burst into flames. “In your dreams, Coobie.”

“Yeah, literally, in my case.” He winks. “Last night, as a matter of fact.” He leans toward me. “Want to hear about my sex dream? It was scorching hot and aboutyou.”

Holy shit. Does this mean Caleb saw me when I bargedin on him, stroking his dick and groaning out my name? Or is it pure coincidence he’s bringing up having a sex dream about me now?

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