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Wiping down the dresser with a polish, I pull the duster back out, standing on tiptoe and partially bending over the bureau to reach the duster over the top of the picture frame.

I still can’t get one corner so I bend even further, really pushing up on my toes to get the spot.

“Interesting.”

I nearly scream as I jump back.

Triston leans in the doorway, glistening with sweat, a small towel around his neck as he watches me.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Smith,” I gasp. “I’ll get used to the schedule.”

His brows lift, as his eyes run down the length of my uniform. “I’ve never seen one of those dresses fit like that.”

I look down at myself, trying to keep the heat out of my cheeks. “The next size up was far too large in the waist.”

“Hmmm,” he hums out as he enters the room, crossing the room to come stand in front of me.

His T-shirt stretches across the breadth of his shoulders, and I find myself licking my lips as he comes closer. I have no idea what thoughts my face might be expressing so I duck my chin to hide the interest I’m sure is shining in my eyes.

He stops a foot away from me as I clutch the duster in front of me like the feathers will somehow protect me.

Instead, they tickle my nose, and I pull my chin up. But that means my gaze meets his.

Unlike me, his expression is completely unreadable.

“As I said, Mr. Smith?—”

“Triston.”

“But…” I swallow, needing to address this name thing. “The rest of the staff…”

“You are not the rest of the staff, Honeyeh. You call me Triston. And as you will be the staff member to enter and exit myroom freely, I can assure you, I don’t mind walking in to the sight of you bent over my dresser.”

My brow furrows. Why would I have that kind of trust or freedom in his house? I think back to his brother Killian’s comment. The one about polishing something or other…

What did that mean?

I could ask Brittany. She’d likely know.

“I…I have to confess, I’m confused as to why the rules are different for me.”

He lets out a long breath and then he reaches for the duster in my hand, gently taking it from my fingers. “I need to let a few people have access, a bridge between the staff and a life that feels more…authentic. It’s been lacking in my life, honestly. Mrs. Raith has filled that role, to the best of her ability, but she has a great many management duties, I hate interrupting her to complete the small tasks in my private spaces.”

My eyes light up as I understand. And honestly, I feel a bit of relief, tinged with the tiniest bit of disappointment. He doesn’t want me in that way.

He just needs me to create a buffer between him and the rest of the staff.

Which is great. That is a job I can do. I push aside that twinge that tells me I want more. I know Triston’s reputation. But as I look down at his large, masculine hands, I wonder if I’d be willing to make the trade.

A month in his bed for the inevitable heartbreak.

“If that’s all, I should probably start on the next room…”

He turns the duster in his hand before he finally hands it back to me, our fingers touching as a jolt of energy shoots straight to the apex between my legs.

Grabbing the duster, I scoop up my basket and scurry from the room like the scared little rabbit that I am.

But it means that I nearly crash into one of the members of the cleaning crew.