Page 33 of Our Little Cliche
“I’m beginning to see a trend in you. A calamity you are. I’m going to call Quinn and tell him to up your insurance. I don’t know how you’re allowed to be left alone,” Cyrus teases, pressing the ice against my skin.
I wince from the sudden chill, then blush under the intensity of the situation. His generosity and kindness is that of arealman. He is nothing like Adam, and for some reason that surprises me. “I don’t know either.”But I’m glad I’m not alone now.
“Let’s flip the day around. We’ll head to town first then.”
“But what about work?”
“Work can wait until we get back. Besides, I’m starving, I can’t work on an empty stomach. Recon you can handle it or should I wrap you up in bubble wrap first?” he toys, flexing his brow with a big self-satisfied smirk beaming across his mouth. It’s both flirtatious and tormenting. “Taking all precautionary measures here, I can’t be losing my personal assistant so soon.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I am a liability. Accident prone, collateral damage and all that. The press would have a field day with my stupid stories of how I got here, and if I done a number on myself out in public. You, not so much, you’re too normal… tooperfect,” I say the last word under my breath, before my mouth could shut it in.
Crap.
Chapter Sixteen
CYRUS
I wishI knew what was going on in her head… she’s been quiet since we left my house, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was worried that something had happened to her.Even though I knew that nothing could have happened to her by the acts of someone else; I have tracking on her phone, plus she was texting me.But even still, there was a sensation deep in the pit of my stomach that filled with panic and rage, because she was hurt.
The need to protect her is just as strong now as it was when I first laid eyes on her, so much so that it’s beginning to scare me. But despite the tension that keeps flaring between us, I can’t make sense of what’s going on inside that pretty little head of hers. Holly’s aura can shift from heated and curious to cold and distant in seconds. One minute it feels like we’re seconds from tasting each other’s tongues and the next I’m being put in the friend zone.
And in true Holly style, she had to give me another reason to make it even harder to keep my hands away from her—by saying that I wastoo perfect.
“So, what do you think of Canadian food?”
She tries speaking with a mouthful, and I have to fight the urge to wipe the droplet of egg yolk running down the little wound over her lip. “Bloody delicious. The eggs here taste like the chickens are treated like royalty. And this place is…”
Holly breaks from her meal, glancing at the stunning architecture of the restaurant, locking eyes with a reindeer head—that I caught a few years ago, another faded hobby of mine—with tinsel dangling from the antlers. It’s either taking her interest or disgust, I can’t be sure.
The place I brought her to is a cozy, dimly lit coffee shop with a fireplace simmering away, and some soft jazz in the background. The walls are a combination of cobbled stone and lacquered timber, much like my place. Like a fancy, old hunter’s pub, but cozy and in café form.
She hesitates. “It’s, umm, nice.”
“Good, I’m glad you like it. I’ll bring you here more often.”
“Don’t be silly. It would cost you a fortune to keep bringing me here to eat,” she says, nervously covering her belly.
I couldn’t think of a better reason to go broke, I want to say, but settle for “You’re my PA, it’s my job to make sure you’re cared for while caring for me.”
“Is this going to happen a lot?”
“What is?” I ask.
“Going out. Aren’t I supposed to be working? I mean, you are paying me to work, not to shove my face with food.”
“Remind me again what your job is?” I entice her, acting as if this outing is platonic, and professional. But it’s far greater than that. Iwantto look after her. Ineedto attend to her, like an itch I have to scratch. Unsatisfied until I am serving her.
She holds her posture for a moment. “Your… assistant?”
“Okay, then. So I need assistance in eating this meal.”
Holly says nothing, she doesn’t have to, her eyes rolling a 360 degree circle in her sockets says enough. When I gesture to thearray of sweet treats on the plate in the middle for her to eat, she does the most beautiful thing, and full on belly laughs.
“See, I knew I could cheer you up.”
“Wait, is that what this is?” She frowns. “Cyrus, you don’t have to do all of this. It was just blood, plus you’ve done so much for me already.”
I’m not doing this because you split your lip, sweet one. I’m doing this because I’d rather spend every second of every day trying to make you happy than to work another day of my life.
