I smile sarcastically.
“And so you can spy on me while I’m in your house, right? With all your cameras?” I say, pointing vaguely around his house, waving my finger before putting my hand on my hip.
“I only had the cam—” He takes a breath. “I only had the cameras there to watch Morris.”
“Well, there you go,” I say. “You already have a way to watch him. So why do you need me?”
“Because I do need someone to do a few chores around the house. Look, if you don’t want the job, fine. I just figured you need a place to work after what happened. And I kind of sort of feel like it’s my fault. And to be honest, I trust you more than anyone to sit in my house.”
“What? You don’t trust your precious Sarah?” I ask, full snide.
Lincoln looks at me sheepishly.
“As dumb as this sounds, no, I don’t. Not when it comes to my house and my cat.”
I stare at him.
I really, really need the money.
And right now, everyone is stonewalling me.
I turn fully to face him.
“If I was going to say yes… I don’t want to be in that house if Sarah’s in there.”
“She doesn’t live with me,” he says immediately.
“Really?” I ask, skeptical.
“She doesn’t live with me,” he confirms.
“Does she come here at all?” I ask.
“Only when I invite her,” he says.
“And how often is that?” I push.
Lincoln pauses, studying me.
He bites his bottom lip, then looks at the floor.
“How much of our private lives do you expect us to share, Gabrielle?” he asks, a little more firmly.
Embarrassment sweeps through me.
He’s right.
If he asked me about my private life, he wouldn’t get a single answer.
So why am I demanding his?
“I don’t care about your private life,” I lie.
“But if I’m going to be working at your house, I need to know who’s going to have the keys and access to it.”
“Nobody has the keys or access to my house but me,” he assures me.
“How am I supposed to know that, Lincoln?” I fire back. “You’re a liar. You do that quite well. So much to the point where you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
