Page 22 of What Maple Heard

I got myself a coffee from the machine in the break room. Hot, two sugars.

I came back out.

Cade had finished sweeping. He was most of the way through mopping, working his way backward across the studio floor methodically and carefully. Considering he had never swept a floor in his entire life before, he was doing a pretty decent job.

Of course I was not going to tell him that.

His shirt was slightly damp. His hair had lost its perfect arrangement. He was humming something under his breath.

And somehow, he looked completely at home.

I looked at him. At the mopped floor. At the neat pile of dust he’d swept into the corner.

I walked over.

I tripped.

On nothing. On absolutely flat floor. I tripped on the air directly in front of Cade Sonnenberg and spilled the entire coffee onto the freshly mopped section of floor in a large, very thorough, very brown puddle.

“Oopsie daisy,” I said. I smiled at him sheepishly and fluttered my eyelashes.

He looked at the coffee. Then at me. Then back at the coffee.

He picked up the mop.

He walked toward me, this six foot two, objectively ridiculous man in rolled up trousers and a damp shirt, carrying a mop, and he came right up until he was close enough that I had to look up at him, and he looked down at me with an expression that was completely calm and slightly amused and entirely certain.

“You look beautiful when you do that. That fluttering of the eyes, that was so hot.”

I felt a wave of heat on my cheeks and I had to look away from him.

“And Maple. There is nothing you can do to scare me away.”

Then he reached out and tucked a strand of hair away from my face, gentle and quick, just back behind my ear, like he’d done it a thousand times.

Then quietly made his way back to the splashed coffee, and started mopping again.

To add insult to injury, he started humming again.

Was he on a different planet than I was? I had just insulted him, spilled an entire mug of coffee on the floor that he had just broomed and mopped, and instead of getting frustrated he was humming?

I turned around and made my way back to the reception desk, genuinely surprised at Cade’s reaction. He could see clearly that I had tripped on purpose.

Nancy looked at me through her glasses, and smiled knowingly at me. She looked at Cade, and then back at me. She looked at the coffee puddle disappearing under the mop.

“My guess,” she said, in a very conversational tone, “is that he massively fucked up with you.”

“Nance—“

“And that he fucked up so bad that you are going to make him go through actual hell.” She nodded slowly. “Professionally assessed.”

“Of course I will. And you’re right. He massively fucked up, and he wil pay for it.”

“Why do you really think he’s here?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. He’ll give up when he gets bored of the routine of this place. He’ll realize this little inconvenience is not worth his while, and he’ll stop showing up. I know his kind. And then, you’ll see him at the fall festival with a different woman in his arms.”

Nancy looked at me. Then she looked at Cade, who was finishing the coffee puddle and moving back to the section he hadn’t gotten to yet, still humming.