Chapter Nine #2
In any case, she’ll need to be with me so she can learn how to defend herself, shoot a gun, and kill motherfuckers who thought it was okay to lay a hand on her.
The next morning, I’m downstairs in the kitchen at oh-six-hundred hours putting together a breakfast for karma avengers.
I almost made her the protein-filled dish, SOS—Shit On a Shingle—but thought better of it.
Not everyone can appreciate crumbled and browned ground beef covered in flour and thickened with milk over a hot skillet then served on toast. It’s an acquired taste and a necessity when you’re starting out in the Corps.
Instead, I opted for eggs, bacon, and pancakes with a variety of fruit.
As I scoop up the bacon and place it on a paper towel to absorb the grease, I tell myself that Berkleigh is a psychologist, she knows that training is going to empower her, to rewire her mind so that she’s focusing on herself and not on what those vermin did to her.
And it’s true, it will do all that. However, before we can get her to heal, she’ll need to know that she will never find herself in a vulnerable situation like that ever again.
Karma training is exactly that. Getting all of our ducks in a row so that she can take back her power.
And that shit starts today with a breakfast high in protein.
It goes without saying that returning to work isn’t in the cards.
Scratch that. I don’t just need to say it, I’ll, no doubt, have to repeat it. Over and fucking over, again.
“I’m going back to work.” Those are her first words as she shuffles into the kitchen looking like the devil himself kidnapped her and put her through Hell.
“Not happening.” The plan is planning and I won’t let her derail me.
“You’re not the boss of me, Tanner.”
I grit my teeth but use my military training to keep myself in check.
“If you think you’re going to work looking like that, then you’re not the boss of you either.” I glance up at her just as I place a glass of juice next to her plate of fresh fruit. “May as well be me.”
“I’m going to lose my business if I don’t show up to work. My clients will be pissed. I’m not having that.” With every word, she stabs her fork into a piece of fruit then pops them in her mouth, making it really fucking hard to understand what she’s saying.
“Don’t worry about that, I took care of it.”
What she doesn’t know is that I’ve already called, apologized, and rescheduled all of her clients.
“You had a hiking mishap and ended up falling down a small ravine. Cuts, bruises, aches, and pains. That’s the story.
” I swipe a piece of bacon off her plate and give her my best evil grin as she nearly stabs my hand with her fork.
I refuse to coddle her. She’s not a fucking damsel in distress, and getting her riled up is the perfect reminder of that.
“I fell while hiking?” Berkleigh scrunches her nose up as she finally sits her ass down on the stool of my kitchen bar area.
“It sounds like I can’t put one foot in front of the other.
” Taking a long sip of the orange juice, she doesn’t look up at me until she feels—I’m sure of it—the weight of my glare.
“It’s done. There's no more arguing with me here.” I keep staring at her, waiting for her to acknowledge the fact that the wheels are in motion and she’s in the truck at high speeds.
“It’s stupid.” I ignore her soft objection, but when I see her little pink tongue dart out and give a tentative brush over her split lip, I decide to give her a win.
“Remember when you decided to run track freshman year?” I’m opening myself up to her a little and it’s the most uncomfortable yet natural thing, all at once. How is that even possible?
“Of course. I’m surprised you do.” She’d be stunned by the number of things I know about her.
I may have missed the little things for the better part of ten years—although I was up to date on the big events—but while we were neighbors, I knew every fucking detail of her life.
Besides, I definitely caught up since my return two years ago.
Like I said, I’m a walking, talking, red flag, and until this very moment, it never occurred to me that it could be a bad thing.
“You wouldn’t shut up about it. The whole fucking town probably still remembers it.” Fuck. I need to work on my communication skills.
“Great, glad we got that out of the way.” She rolls her eyes and I swear to fuck my entire body revolts against that kind of bratty attitude.
My hand shoots out across the kitchen bar, latching onto her jaw and pulling her close to my face. So close, I can smell the orange juice on her breath and it makes me instantly hard as steel.
“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know this.” Before I can think better of it, I lick her bottom lip, right where her tongue was seconds ago. “There’s no fucking place for it here. You wanna be Karma, you fucking act like it and say what you mean.”
Eyes like two round saucers, she stares up at me with shock written on every inch of her face. I’ve gone this far, may as well go all in.
“There are rules in life that keep you alive. Up until now, you’ve ignored them.” The only sign that she’s not frozen in time is the tiny scrunch of her brow.
“You don’t know me, Tanner. We haven’t spoken beyond bickering in almost twenty years. Ten of those you weren’t even in this country.” Her words are strong, deliberate, and I like it. Still, she needs to hear me loud and clear so I ignore her mini tirade.
“Number one.” Letting go of her jaw, I hold up my index finger close enough to her face that her eyes cross a little.
“Feelings are data, not directives. You observe them, understand them, but you don’t absorb them.
Even your own. You feel lonely? Get a fucking dog.
You’re horny? Use your dildo. You’re sad?
Eat ice cream. Don’t punish yourself for shit you have no control over.
” She blinks and opens her mouth like she’s about to ram her indignation down my throat.
Not now, Satan. I add my middle finger and continue.
“Two. Never give more than you get. Emotional debt is the bane of human existence. Guard your independence like your life depends on it…because it does. Balance is key.”
“Oh my God, Tanner. You’re—”
“Number three.” My ring finger joins the party. “People reveal themselves if you let them talk. You should know this. You listen and you understand that when people show you who they are, believe them. It saves your life.”
“Oh, trust me. I’m understanding a whole lot of things.”
“Which brings us to earlier. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Do not leave room for interpretation because people will take advantage of you every fucking time.” Her high school days are my case in point.
Our eyes are locked in, our breaths heaving at the same cadence as though my lungs are taking a cue from hers. I think I’ve pissed her off. Good. Hopefully it will all sink in.
“Tanner.” My name—not asshole—sounds like a prayer as it glides from between her lips. Our eye contact breaks and my attention falls solely on her mouth.
It’s plump and red. Even injured, it’s the most seductive I’ve ever seen. But her next words break every ounce of control I’ve been trying to lock in.
“Kiss me.”
I frown, my brows slanting as I keep staring at her mouth. Not where I thought this was going.
Do I want to kiss her? No. I want to fucking devour her.
I want to taste her on my tongue and swallow her moans. I want—no, I need—to know if her lips are as sweet as her scent. If this obsession will become a downright addiction.
I fight the urge, still holding my three fingers up and staring at her now slightly trembling lips.
“How’s that for saying what I want?” And that, ladies and gents, is a hook, line, and a motherfucking sinker, so I do what any asshole in my shoes would do. I say fuck it and throw in the towel.
Without giving a fuck about her cut lip, my mouth crashes onto hers and I take, take, take every ounce of what she gives. My hands slide over to the back of her head, giving me a better angle as I pull her deeper into the kiss.
For every nip from my teeth, she bites me right back. For every moan that she gifts me, I stroke her tongue with mine. Breathing is overrated and whatever it is we’re doing is the much better option.
And it goes on, and on, and on until my cell phone rings, breaking the intensity of the moment.
Still, I can’t help but get the last word in. “Not bad, Sweet Bee. Next time, I’ll kiss your pussy exactly the same way.”