Page 16 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Sixteen

CYRUS

I wish I 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 was too 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. I want to look after her. I need to 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 the array 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.

“It’s really not a problem. Everyone’s gotta eat at some point.”

“True.”

Assuming I’m the cause of her constant mood changes, I offer her an alternative. It’s probably not a good idea if I go with her. “Why don’t you have the day off to venture? Enjoy the time to explore instead of coming back to the office,”

“A day off? But what about?—”

“Miss Cate, I’m your boss. Well, I’m trying to be.

I want you to come to work happy and comfortable.

What you’ve been through must be traumatizing, so it’s the least I can do in the situation,” I cut her off with a blunt tone, assessing her every facial reaction with each of my words. “So what would you like to do?”

“Would you… be coming with me?”

“No, you go ahead. I should get back to writing,” I say, nonchalant. Her face drops in an instant.

Bingo .

That’s the reaction I wanted.

Moments pass of her staring into dead space. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, but will I get eaten alive by bears? Or trampled by moose the size of houses, and whatever else roams in this country?”

“Would you be less scared if I was with you?”

“I’m not scared… Australia is packed full of poisonous spiders and snakes, and stuff, so I’m used to things trying to kill me.

But I don’t think sight seeing on my own is a good idea.

You can’t tell me I wouldn’t last five seconds out there,” her eyes lower, waving her hands to her figure. “Look at me for crying out loud.”

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

I am looking at you. It’s all I’ve been doing since I met you, is what I want to say, but I don’t. “You’re my employee, Miss Cate. That would be wildly inappropriate if I did.”