Chapter 12
Twelve
Emma
Hawk acted like nothing had happened, and that was the most infuriating part.
One moment we were at each other’s throats in my kitchen, all that anger and heat swirling around us, tangled feelings neither of us should have been dealing with.
The next, he was cooking. Like it was just another normal night, like he hadn’t just lost his mind ten minutes ago.
The pan hissed on the stove, a familiar sound that should have been comforting, but it just made my thoughts feel louder. He scooped food onto a plate with these steady, controlled movements while my brain felt like it was spinning.
He slid the plate across the table toward me. “Eat.”
I stared at the plate, then shot him a look. “Are you serious right now?”
Hawk leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. His face was calm, but there was something restless in his eyes. “You haven’t eaten.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Eat.”
The way he said it was flat, like he expected me to obey. I didn’t move.
“You don’t get to just—” I waved my hand between us in frustration. “—do that and then act like everything is normal.”
His brow twitched. “You were hungry.”
“That’s not the issue.”
“Seems like it is.”
My stomach growled loudly, totally betraying me.
With an irritated sigh, I dropped into the chair and stabbed the pasta with my fork. But I wasn’t done. I pointed the fork at him. “You can’t just walk into my house, change my locks, boss me around, declare I belong to you, and then cook me dinner like that makes everything okay.”
Hawk took a slow drink from his glass. “You forgot the part where I fixed your doors.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“You’re still alive.”
“Oh my god.”
I leaned back in the chair, exasperated. “We have seen each other twice.”
Silence settled between us, thick and awkward.
“Twice,” I repeated, looking him in the eye.
“We’ve known each other barely a week.”
Still nothing from him.
“We are strangers.”
Hawk finally pushed off the counter, moving closer. “You’re very loud for someone eating my food.”
“Stop dodging the point.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
He walked toward the table and stopped right in front of it, leaning over slightly. His hands braced the wood, and suddenly the kitchen felt smaller. “You think I don’t know that?” he said.
“That we’re strangers? Because you’re doing a terrible job acting like it.”
His jaw flexed, and I could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You think I planned this?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You think I woke up one morning wanting some mouthy woman crawling around in my head all damn day?”
His voice dropped lower, rougher.
“I didn’t exactly put you on my vision board either,” I shot back.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Means you’re not stupid.”
I scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Hawk dragged a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe away his frustration. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“And you broke into my house.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I did not ask you to change my locks.”
“They were garbage.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Someone could’ve kicked your door in.”
“And instead, you broke in yourself.”
His eyes snapped to mine. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.”
I folded my arms, feeling defiant. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did.”
My eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “Oh really?”
Hawk leaned closer—way too close. “You think I want this?”
His voice dropped dangerously low. “You think I enjoy not being able to get you out of my damn head?”
That one stopped me cold. I hadn’t expected that.
“I didn’t ask you to think about me.”
“Exactly.”
His hand slammed flat on the table, the sound making me jump. “That’s the damn problem.”
His voice was rough now, filled with tension. “You walk around like you have no idea what you’re doing to people.”
“I am literally just existing.”
His eyes dropped to my cast. “You don’t understand the kind of men you embarrassed.”
“I defended myself.”
“You embarrassed them.”
“He deserved it.”
Silence fell between us, heavy and thick.
Hawk muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
His eyes lifted again, locking onto mine. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re not scared of me.”
“No.”
“You should be.”
I shrugged. “You made me dinner.”
His jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make me safe.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
He stared at me, like he was trying to figure out a problem he didn’t want to have. Then he muttered quietly, “You’re a fucking problem.”
“For you?”
“For me.”
“Well, good news.” I pushed my chair back. “You can leave.”
“Not happening.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“This is my house.”
“And those locks are mine.”
I stared at him, feeling the tension crackle in the air. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
“I was doing perfectly fine before you showed up.”
Hawk laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “You think that?”
“Yes.”
“You had some idiot grabbing you behind a bar.”
“That was handled.”
“By luck.”
“By my fist.”
His eyes flashed. “You’re not hearing what I’m saying.”
“And you’re not hearing what I’m saying.”
The tension in the kitchen snapped tight, and Hawk stepped closer. So I stepped closer too, matching his intensity.
“You don’t get to decide when I walk away from something,” he said.
“I absolutely do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I jabbed a finger into his chest. “I am not yours.”
His body went rigid, and a deep sound rumbled in his chest—almost a growl.
His hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me forward until I collided with him. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
His face was inches from mine. “You think I want to want you?”
“Then don’t.”
His grip tightened. “That’s not how this works.”
“Well, it should.”
His jaw clenched. “I’ve been running a club for ten years.”
“Congratulations. Do you want a trophy?”
“No one talks to me the way you do.”
“Maybe someone should.”
“You’re pushing your luck.”
“I don’t believe in luck.”
He leaned in closer, our faces almost touching. “So stubborn.”
“So bossy.”
“So damn loud.”
“Then leave.”
His eyes burned into mine. “Not until I know you’re safe.”
“From what?”
His voice dropped again, serious now. “From men who don’t take embarrassment lightly.”
I opened my mouth to argue again, but Hawk suddenly stepped back like he’d forced himself to. He grabbed his cut off the chair and shrugged it on.
“You’re not moving in here,” I said quickly.
His eyes flicked back to me. “Never said I was.”
“Good.”
“But the protection detail stays.”
My jaw clenched. “Hawk—”
“Not up for discussion.”
“I don’t need babysitters.”
“You do.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between us before he grabbed his keys.
“You’re just leaving?” I asked, feeling something tighten in my chest.
Hawk paused at the door, his eyes moving to my cast and then back to my face. For a second, it looked like he was debating something.
“I’ll see you around, Trouble.” It wasn’t a question.
“You didn’t even eat,” I said.
He opened the door. “Not hungry.”
And then he was gone.
The door shut quietly behind him, and for a long moment, I just stood there in the kitchen, staring at the empty doorway. Annoyed. Confused. And more frustrated than I wanted to admit that the room suddenly felt a lot quieter without him in it.