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Asa withheld a smile as Zara rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m sure he takes you seriously,” she said. “Besides, you’re making it seem like this place houses the Mona Lisa or something. It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just me.”
Cas inhaled sharply through his nose and flattened his mouth. Asa could see the conflict in the man’s gray eyes. Zara trying to diminish her importance aggravated him. He was also left with the impression this wasn’t the first time this had come up.
“I’m taking you seriously,” Asa said after a beat of silence. “I’m well aware of her significance. I will respect your rules.”
Cas studied him for a breath before moving on.
Asa darted a glance to Zara whose cheeks had reddened. She chewed on her lower lip and stared at the floor.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything? Except she must know that Cas cared for her more than as a client. She wasn’t just anyone to the world. And she wasn’t just anyone to the people who knew her.
The tour ended back in the kitchen which was probably the coolest room in the house in Asa’s opinion. All white with antique glass and quartzite counters, mirrored ceiling, and stainless-steel appliances.
“So, which room do you want?” Zara asked, having recovered from whatever had made her quiet a minute ago. “You can choose any of them.”
“Uh, probably the bottom one. By the garage. That way I can go to work without disturbing you.”
“You’re not going to disturb me,” she scoffed.
Cas nodded like he agreed with Asa’s choice.
Zara’s brow scrunched like she was frustrated with his decision. But even though he’d agreed to live theretemporarily, he still needed to keep some space.
He didn’t want to.
Hewantedto start asking her about the album she’d shelved. If he could hear it, even though he had no business asking that kind of a thing.
It was like, when he got around her, he forgot every hard learned lesson that life had taught him. He felt young and new and curious. And it was the curiosity he needed to really be careful with. A question here and there was probably fine. But he couldn’t exactly pepper her with inquiries like he was a child and she was the most amazing, brilliant, gorgeous, extraordinary human in all of existence.
They went out to the garage to start unloading his things and his pulse amped up, making his hands shake. What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t live with her. He looked over the sum of his belongings stuffed into the back of an SUV that probably had reinforced windows.
He had nowhere else to go.
“I could so easily freak out right now,” he muttered.
“Can I watch?”
He jumped and turned to find Zara by his side.
She smiled up at him. “I didn’t get to see the whole freakout last October, only how it ended.”
He shook his head slowly. She was teasing him.
A soft chuckle escaped him and her eyes may or may not have sparkled. The tension and anxiety faded from his limbs and he forgot again why this was a bad idea.
“So that room off the kitchen,” he said. “The one with the piano?”
She nodded.
“Would it be okay if I put the guitars in there?”
Her eyes widened and she nodded more emphatically. “Of course!”
“You can use them whenever.” He turned back to the SUV, unable to hold her excited gaze for too long. You’d think he’d given her another Artist of the Year award with the way she lit up at the idea of using his worn-out guitars.
“Wait.” Zara stopped. “What are those?” She pointed to a box.
He grabbed the edge and pulled it over. “These,” he said, picking up one bejeweled croc and holding it up. “Are my house shoes.”
