Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Isla
That’s probably what some of the victims would say if they were still around to talk about it.
I shake off the thought and step into the man’s mudroom. Plain and spotless, with a washer and dryer to my right, I begin peeling off my wet boots and coat. A pair of strong hands is at the ready to relieve me of them.
“Thanks.” God, he’s handsome. His chiseled jawline and dark green eyes are definitely something to write home about. I break the ice, wiggling my socked toes against the white porcelain floor. “On the order it says your name’s Beck Tillman.”
“Yeah.” A man of few words. Okay.
Now it’s me who extends my hand. “A proper face-to-face introduction is warranted for the man who just saved my ass.” I notice myself involuntarily giggling.
It’s what I do when I’m nervous. How I like to disarm people and make them at ease.
Oftentimes, and as stated by my ex-boyfriend, it comes off as annoying and desperate.
I make a mental note to zip it. “I’m Isla Davie. ”
His giant hand engulfs mine. White hot bolts of electricity slide up my arm, causing my nipples to stiffen. “Beck Tillman.”
He turns away, removes his own parka and slips off his boots. Beck’s wearing a white thermal shirt that clings to his muscles like Saran Wrap. This isn’t doing anything to help titty hard on. Fuck.
“Is that short for anything?” My voice hitches.
“No.” He says, then hulks his way into the other room. I’m left standing there alone, knowing I will be developing Stockholm Syndrome if this man decides to lock me up and throw away the key. My feet catch up to my brain, and I scurry behind him, following the giant mountain man into his kitchen.
“Wow.” And what a fucking kitchen it is. Not only is it spotless, but it’s huge. With tall walnut cabinets and a long white marble island with white marble splitting the room between the cooking area and an ornate dining table next to a wall of windows, this is straight up my dream kitchen.
“Holy shit, Beck.” I don’t wait for an invitation, opening cabinets, the fridge, and the biggest stove I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Hey, easy with that.” Beck’s brow furrows as he lunges at me.
“It’s not like it’s going to break.” I open and close the stove door a few times until he places his hand over mine.
“Please.” His green eyes are daggers cutting through me. The seriousness embedded in them runs so deep that I’m lost in an instant. I wasn’t kidding when I said I work on instinct. Every bone in my body tells me this guy’s been through some shit to make him this clean. This precise and picky.
“Sorry. I’m being kind of rude.”
“Yeah.” He steps back. “I didn’t mean to come up on you like that. I just.” He runs a hand through his thick, inky black hair. “I like my things a certain way.”
“I understand.” There I go again, overcompensating with playfulness to combat an awkward situation. “I’ll call a tow.” My eyes land on the sofa in the next room. “Is it okay if I…” I point in its direction.
Beck nods, eyes cast downward. A wounded puppy.
I hate myself for wanting to get inside his head, to kiss his wounds until he’s better.
I’m good at spotting this type of man. Unfortunately, I always end up broken-hearted by them because there is no fixing them.
It’s a lesson I should’ve learned by now.
My lips press into a tight smile and I tiptoe into the other room, careful not to disturb anything. I’m afraid to even sit on the sofa, so I lean my hip against its arm while I google the nearest garage and give them a call.
No trucks available.
I try another one, and it’s the same story. Three more, and even the one over two hours away, is busy towing other cars stuck in the same situation I am in. Darkness begins filling the room. The last hope is calling my brother, but of course, he doesn’t answer.
Unbridled rage courses through me. I take a few deep breaths, knowing I’m going to have to tell Beck that I’m shit out of luck and now my problem is officially his as well. I raise my lips into a smile, fake it ’til you make it applies to moods as well as abilities.
“Well, bad news, Beck.” I saunter into the kitchen where he sits hunched over his laptop. His massive frame makes it look like a toy computer. My body betrays me, pussy clenching at the thought of what those big, strong hands would feel like all over my body. “I can’t get a tow.”
He finally looks up at me, a blank expression on his face. “Nothing?”
“I’ve called every place in a hundred-mile radius, and I’m officially stuck.
” I sidle up next to him on the stool. In return, he jumps off the stool like I’m on fire.
He paces across the kitchen, the floor bouncing slightly under his weight.
I’ve never seen a man this big in real life.
With his massive shoulders up at his ears, I imagine laying my hands on his sculpted traps and massaging them until every ounce of anxiety leaves his toned, sexy body.
Beck’s pacing halts. His jaw clenches. Looking me dead in the eye, it’s clear he’s made a decision. “You’ll stay here. Just until someone can come and get you.”
The authority in his voice practically melts me. I nod, a smile crawling across my lips. “If you say so.”