Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Isla
He looks like a chastised child standing before me.
I want to scoop him up and hold him, not just because he looks so remorseful with his head bowed low and his shoulders slumped, but because I’ve seen what he looks like without a shirt on.
Even in a fit of…whatever that was, my entire body betrayed me.
“I owe you an apology.”
“It’s not necessary,” I say, wanting to move past this so we can forget it ever happened.
“Isla.” Oh dear God, the way he says my name gives me goosebumps. He steps toward me. His fresh, shower scent fills the space between us. “It’s very necessary.” He’s having a hard time meeting my eyes. “I’m not used to people in my space, and I overreacted.”
I’m not used to men apologizing for their behavior.
If I’m totally honest, I don’t quite know how to respond.
“Well, it’s water under the bridge.” I wave my hand through the air, breathing in his scent.
His t-shirt sticks to his pecs, giving me another teasing glimpse of his muscular frame.
“I’m the one who intruded on your space.
” I step forward, unable to hold myself back. I tap his chest with my hand.
I pull back immediately. What the fuck? As always, I’m too much. I take things one step too far. I should never have let my curiosity get the best of me, leading me down the hall to such a personal area of his home.
“I feel awful, Beck.” I sigh, forcing any negative emotion out. “And I know you don’t want me touching your stuff, and I’d like to make it up to you.”
“How are those things connected?” He raises one dark eyebrow.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.
I also happen to be a very good cook, which works out well considering there’s no takeout in our future.
” I gesture toward the window, putting on a show as always.
It’s easy to keep the demons at bay when you keep ‘em smiling—which, in this case, feels damn near impossible. I’m not sure Beck’s smiled in decades.
“I don’t…” He shakes his head. “That’s not necessary.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
His brow furrows. “Be my guest.” He points over his shoulder.
“If you’ll just…lead the way. I don’t want to mess up any of your systems.” His eyes narrow, questioning me.
“I’m being serious.” After a moment, he relents.
I follow behind him, eyeing his massive arms, wondering if his skin is as soft as it looks.
I note the bottom of a snake peeking out of his shirt sleeve.
I wonder how many other tattoos this former firefighter has.
He opens the fridge and it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
I peer from behind, getting a closer look, careful not to make the same mistake of touching something I’m not supposed to.
The fridge is packed with meats, cheeses, white wine, vegetables, and so much more.
It’s organized within an inch of its life.
“Which grocery store do you go to around here?” It’s a dumb question but I can’t stand the silence.
“I have it all delivered.” He’s standing behind me. For a guy his size, he moves swiftly and silently.
“That would make sense.” I turn toward him, meeting his dark green eyes. My panties nearly melt on the spot. What is it about unavailable men that sets me on fire? “I mean, if you’re having books delivered, why not groceries?” I try not to giggle by clearing my throat. “Why not everything?”
“What do you need to get started?” He moves toward the cabinets, not answering my not-so-subtle question wrapped in a statement designed to lead the witness.
He pulls out perfectly nestled pans, and that’s just the start of it.
Once I decide on a menu, he begins lining the counters with perfectly nestled everything.
His glassware, the measuring cups, the plates…
you name it. It’s all like a high-end home store showroom.
“If you need anything else, just ask.”
This time, I laugh for real. After what happened with the photo of him and the other guy in their firefighting gear, I wouldn’t dream of touching something else.
But something tells me that it wasn’t just the fact that I was forward in my exploring.
Something tells me there’s more to that photo than just a memory on a wall.
I raise my hand in salute. “Aye, aye.” Then nod. To my surprise, Beck almost smiles. His lips curl up just enough to show the hint of a dimple in one cheek. I gasp in surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I get to work, prepping the pork chops and running green beans under water in the strainer.
It’s always weird to cook in a foreign kitchen, especially when the owner’s standing around watching your every move.
I turn off the water and dry my hands on the towel over my shoulder.
Again, Beck is standing so close that I could stand on my tiptoes and kiss him if I wanted.
But I don’t. I really don’t. Why would I kiss a man like this? Someone with a short fuse and what appears to be a clinical case of OCD.
Because he’s your type, honey. Admit it.
I shake the intrusive voice. “Why don’t you help me. It’ll be more fun and much faster with two sets of hands.” I imagine what his gigantic paw-like hands would feel like wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him before spinning me around, bending me over, and fucking me from behind.
Bad intrusive thoughts! Bad! Bad! Bad!
“Okay.” He shrugs his massive shoulders, and I shake off the image.
“What should I?—”
“Peel the potatoes.” My voice comes out as a screech. “For mash. Um…for mashed. We’re going to mash potatoes.”
I need. To get. A grip.
Beck nods and gets to work. My lungs release every ounce of air they’ve held onto. This is not the kind of man I want to be thinking about naked. He’s everything that’s hurt me in the past: unnecessarily gruff, overly particular, and potentially mean.