Page 35 of Tempted

My neck cranes. “That? Thatturned you on?”

“Don’t act so surprised, lass. You should have seen the look on your face when I grabbed the chair so you wouldn’t fall flat on your saidass.That’s why I had to leave, because I thought you were going to jump my fucking bones right there.”

I blink. He looks at me. It’s clear that we’re at a stalemate. “So, what do we do now, huh?” I level with him. “We’ve fucked and we still hate each other. Are you as confused as I am?”

He purses his lips into a smile. “Aye. And now we have to share a roof until this storm passes.” The way he says it, it’s like I’m not even here. Like he’s muttering to himself.

“How about I stay on one side of the house, and you stay on the other. That way we don’t kill each other or rip each other’s clothes off again.”

“What, do you want to treat me like a fucking animal in my own house?” He barks. “Do you think that I don’t have any fucking self-control? Just...stay out of my goddamn shower and we’ll be fine, lass!” With that, he rises and walks to the kitchen, angrily and loudly pulling pots and pans out of the stove drawer, looking like he’s making something for supper. I feel bad. The last thing I want is to have him prepare something for me, when it’s clear that I’m inconveniencing him. Even though he’s the one that insists I stay.

Regardless of how pissed he seems, I walk towards him in the kitchen, righting the pot that he’s all but thrown on the stovetop, opening the fridge, observing what it is that he’s making, so that I can help. He’s too angry to even speak to me. It’s like I’m not here. I’m not trying to dodge him, either. When I figure out that he’s making an omelet, I grab the vegetables out of the fridge and start chopping them, while he cracks the eggs into a bowl on the counter. We say nothing as we prepare the food. “I don’t eat a lot at home, so this will have to do.” He mutters, grouchily.

“Same here. It’s fine by me. I usually just eat a salad.”

“I’ve got some of that in there, too, but I figure you’re still probably chilled, so a cold meal isn’t ideal.”

Wow. He’s thinking of my needs? He can’t be all that angry at me. I suppose giving myself to him might have softened himsome. “By the looks of you, you haven’t had a decent meal for a while.”

Never mind. I take that back.Asshole. “I eat just fine, thanks. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m always busy. You burn off a lot of calories when you work hard.”

“Are you saying that I don’t work hard? Are you saying that I’m fat?”

“I’m not saying any of that. And my skinny ass didn’t seem to bother you when you were fucking me.”

“Look, can we just not...can we not talk about that?” He says, folding the eggs in the pan a little too aggressively.

I’m chopping peppers, listening to him intently. “Why does it bother you so much? We had sex. We both wanted it. It’s over. Let’s move on. Unless you wish you could take it back.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Haven’t you made mistakes before? I do believe you saw one of your mistakes for lunch.” I point out. That seems to anger him more. And I wish I could take it back.

He turns his head at me, almost snarling. “As long as we're pointing out mistakes, lass, how about the one where you walk in on me in the shower.”

“Like I said before, I thought your house was about to burn down or something.”

“What about the part where you realize that it's not, yet you still made a move on me.”

Point for him.

“I rest my case.”

“Fine. But what happened after that was consensual. Therefore, webothmade a mistake.”

I start tossing the vegetables in the pan as he pours the rest of the egg batter in simultaneously. “Are we going to continue to argue about this? When you know damn well that it's your fault.”

I bark. “Myfault? I didn'trapeyou, Malcolm!”

“No, but you're the one that traipsed over here in the middle of a storm, just because you wanted to know, for no reason that you can think of, whether or not I slept with my ex. If you hadn't have come over here, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Another point for him. “Fine. I take responsibility. Are you happy?”

“No. For the record, I'm not happy. I still made the mistake. And it's your fault that I did. I never make mistakes.”

“Well, you did, Malcolm. You went out for lunch with Clare, didn't you.”

He starts to turn the eggs over with a spatula. Eyes not meeting mine, instead, they’re in the pan. “That wasn't a mistake. That was a business meeting that's going to turn into a contract. And I made no mistakes when I was with her, by the way. I broke up with her, didn't I?”

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