Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Berkleigh
“Ineed to go to work.” Every bone and muscle in my body aches, but I can’t stay here all day being waited on by Tanner.
His sudden change in personality reminds me of the boy I once knew, but it’s jarring and it’s weird.
I’m used to the scowls, the cruel words, the veiled insults, and I had expected him to scold me about my choice in extra-curriculars.
To blame what happened on my own foolish actions.
Maybe I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that venom to be spat at me at any moment, so I’m essentially protecting myself by leaving.
“No.”
“You can’t tell me no, Tanner.” I sit up from where I’ve been lying on the couch in front of the TV—albeit tentatively—and place my feet on the soft carpet.
Our conversation in the kitchen died a quick death when I said I wanted to do karma’s job, like some avenging warrior.
Pretty sure he thinks I’m crazy now because he carried me to the couch in a determined silence, covered me in a blanket, handed me the remote control, and disappeared for a few hours.
“I just did.” That smirk I haven’t seen for a couple of days is back, and I realize how much I missed it. He lowers his head again, tapping away at his phone as he sits down where my feet just were.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I can’t stay here.
” Although I really want to because just the thought of being in my own house, alone, makes the ball of dread in my stomach do flip flops.
“I also need to get a new cell phone. Mine’s…
” I grip the edge of the seat on either side of my tense thighs and lower my head.
Taking a deep breath and swallowing down my emotions, I look back up again, but not at Tanner.
His kindness is near-debilitating. It’s too much and not enough and I can’t allow myself to get used to the way he makes me feel.
“My phone is in pieces on my stairs.” With a tight-lipped smile and a straight back, I risk facing him before I push up to standing, making sure all my weight is on my left foot because fuck, the other one hurts.
“You can go back to hating me from a distance.”
“Sit the fuck back down and stop being a brat.” He tilts his head, an eyebrow raised and a look in his eyes that says he knows best.
“Did you just call me a brat? Like a naughty child?” He’s lucky I can’t stomp my foot to demonstrate how ridiculous his insult was. “Wow.” I blow out a breath and search out things to lean on so I can hobble to the front door.
Nada…
Hopping it is.
I make it halfway before my feet are whisked from under me and Tanner is carrying me for the third time in less than twenty-four hours.
The natural thing to do is wrap my arms around his neck.
For support, of course. Being this close to him is too confusing and he smells so damn good, like my favorite pear body wash…
“You’re anything but a child, Sweet Bee.
Shit would be easier if you were.” His expression is unreadable yet lacking its usual venom as he raises one arm, lifting me so our faces are level.
“And I’m capable of hating you from any distance, near or far.
” His lips are inches from mine, I can feel his breath against my skin.
I think he’s aiming for intimidating but the only vibe I’m getting is protective.
Which is really fucking weird. I haven’t felt like this with him since…
Our eyes lock, each searching the other for answers to questions we don’t know. It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced and my breaths get faster, my chest rising and falling in anticipation, my heart beating so fast it crashes like a wave throughout my body.
The spell is broken pretty quickly when a twinge of pain from my ankle reminds me why I’m here.
He keeps calling me that nickname he used when we were kids and it does things to my insides that I don’t understand.
Well, I do. I understand them completely.
But my body and my brain are at war and I don’t know which one I want to win.
“You’re gonna give me ideas if you keep carrying me like this.” I struggle to get down, but his hold is firm.
“What kind of ideas?” He takes me back to the couch and lays me on the soft cushions, taking his position at the same end as my feet and placing them on his lap.
“Seriously? I have clients that need me. You could have at least taken me home…oh…” Yes, please…
The way Tanner is massaging my left foot, the good one, is enough to silence me, and I rest my head back against the pillow on the arm of the couch.
“Ideas like this?”
“You’re trying to distract me and I don’t know why.” Not that I move, of course, because his distraction is working, and I would try harder to deny it but everything hurts except for that one foot that feels like Heaven.
“For one, it’s almost seven-thirty…” I lift my head and he pauses, looking at me as his thumb does something magical to my heel. “In the evening. I know you like to work late, but you don’t take any clients after seven.”
“That’s surprisingly accurate. Have you been spying on me, Mr. Black?”
He chuckles, a half-smirk lifting one of his cheeks as he shakes his head and sighs.
“It’s chow time. After that, you and I need to talk.” With a final squeeze of my foot, he lifts my legs and stands before placing them back on the cushion. “Stay.” He points at me, then grabs the blanket, throwing it over my legs.
“I’m not a dog you can command.” I give him my best evil glare, squinted eyes and pursed lips, but I must look about as serious as a flying pig because his perma-scowl turns into a sudden grin, and in Tanner’s world, that’s the equivalent of a belly laugh.
“No, you’re not. A dog has better survival instincts. Now, stay. I’ll come back for you.”
If I had the energy to fight him, I probably still wouldn’t.
My stomach is rumbling and he’s making food.
There’s no way I have the strength to do that myself.
A few more hours of sleep should help, like, another twelve, but I can’t miss another day of work or I’m going to have some angry and emotional clients on my hands.
Five minutes later, Tanner is back with a full tray. A plate with a bread roll sits beside a large bowl of thick soup, accompanied by a tumbler glass of fruit juice.
“Thank you. This is…wow.”
He places it on the coffee table and pulls it closer to the couch.
“Is that another one of your sarcastic wows, or a real one?” He smirks, then leaves the room without waiting for an answer and coming back with another tray for himself.
“Do you ever take anything seriously…? Other than the trashcans, of course.” It’s my turn to smirk as I sit up, leaning forward to pick up a piece of fresh bread.
“Don’t get me started on those damn trash pandas.” He faux-shudders before glaring at me, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Eat.”
“Are you going to keep ordering me around?” What I don’t say is that I quite like being ordered around by him. It doesn’t feel the same as if it were anyone else. But I’m positive this whole caring act will be over soon enough and he’ll be back to the asshole next door.
“If you’re going to keep being a brat, I’ll do more than order you around.”
That feels like a threat, but my body reacts as though it’s a promise.
“Yeah? And what’s that?” I can’t help it, challenging him comes naturally.
His movement is so swift I barely catch it, but he’s sitting forward on the couch beside me and he grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Twisting my head toward him, he leans into the table and dips his spoon into my soup before bringing it up to my lips.
“Open.”
It’s automatic. My mouth falls, allowing him to push the spoon inside, and I slide the soup off with my lips.
It’s delicious, but his cooking prowess isn’t what has me in this dazed trance.
The eye contact throughout every movement remains, holding me in place along with his firm grip on my chin.
He doesn’t relent as I swallow, he just scoops up another spoonful, and another, and another, until he can spoon no more.
Finally, he releases my chin, placing the spoon in the almost empty bowl.
He must anticipate my next move because his finger presses against my lips, making me frown, but he’s not looking at me now.
Grabbing a piece of bread, he rips it apart and soaks some in the soup dregs.
Then he presses his finger between my lips and pushes my jaw down before shoving the soupy roll inside my mouth.
I bite down, too slow to catch him, and chew. The tomato and basil flavors of the soup are rich and tasty. I wonder if he’ll give me the recipe. This can’t be store bought.
“Good girl.” He winks and grabs his own bowl when I swallow, slurping it up a lot faster than it took for mine to disappear.
I think I’m growling…although it’s more of a grumble coming from my throat, but I can’t deny that he just made me do exactly as he commanded with ease. He chuckles, just the once, then his eyes flick over to mine and the solid contact is back.
The way he sucks up the soup makes me want to be a spoon…never before have I wanted to be an inanimate object so badly as I do now. Stop it, Berkleigh. You are a smart, independent woman, and you do not want to be a spoon.
“Are you still hungry?”
Am I…? Kinda…but not for food. I’m obviously delirious from the last twenty-four hours, so I claim insanity here.
“No, thank you. That was amazing.” Clearing my throat, I attempt to stand and clear away the dishes. Attempt being the operative word there because before I get even halfway up, Tanner is bringing me straight back down by the waist.
“We need to talk, and we can’t do that if you spend the next hour hopping around trying to be a good house guest and tidy up. So keep your tight ass on that couch until I get back.”
“Did you just call my ass tight?” That means he’s noticed. I have been doing workouts with an app on my phone a few times a month, for like, the last two years.
“If you’re going to spend all your time asking me if you heard me correctly, then this is gonna take all fucking night, Sweet Bee.” He sighs as he piles the dishes and trays on top of each other, then takes them to the kitchen.
It’s been ten minutes, and he’s back with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hand…and I think I’m in love. This is exactly what I’ve been craving.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks as he sits down in his usual spot on one end of the couch.
“Like I had a fight with a dumptruck, but I’ll live.
” Holding the coffee mug between both hands, I hum with delight at the bitter scent wafting up my nose.
It’s all I can do to concentrate on anything other than what happened to me last night as I sip down the black nectar.
Yes, I’ll live, but I’ll never be the same woman again.
I refuse to think of myself as a victim, though.
I’m a survivor. A warrior. I won’t get back the piece of me that was taken, but they can keep it. I don’t want it back.
“Lie back down, rest your feet on my legs again.”
“But I haven’t finished my coffee.” I’m close to pouting. Close…but I resist.
“Put it on the table and let it cool down first. You’ll burn your tongue if you keep trying to drink it right now.”
He isn’t wrong, but I’m reluctant to admit that I did, in fact, already burn the tip of my tongue a little.
“It’s all orders, orders, orders, with you, isn’t it, Mr. B?”
He growls and holds a finger in the air, twisting it in circles to indicate for me to turn and do as he says…lie down. Of course, I do, but only after following his other instruction to put my coffee mug down on the small table.
It’s too late to do anything with work or my clients. Even the mall will be closed by now so there’s no chance of getting a new cell phone today.
Closing my eyes when Tanner rests my feet on his lap again, I try to make some kind of plan to try and reorganize my life, but without my sim card or my organizer, I have no numbers to call, no emails to check…anything of importance for work is in my office.
I guess there’s nothing else holding me back from asking the burning question on the tip of my partially burned tongue…
“Okay, the anticipation is eating me up. What do you want to talk about?” I half-thought he would want to get me out of here ASAP and that was a passing comment from him to pacify me in some way, but his actions are saying otherwise, so I’m intrigued.
“I have a way for you to be Karma.”