Page 5 of Control Freak
“I had to use the bathroom–”
Silence stretches between us. The hurt in her eyes sends a pang of regret to my heart.
I don’t know what to say. Of course I’m pissed, but mostly at myself. She looks scared, and I can’t blame her. Isla’s fingers press against her full lips. I bend down, practically growling. “Just stick to the main rooms.”
Isla nods without saying a word. I don’t wait to see if she will. I slam my bedroom door behind me. Of all the things she could ask about, it’s that photo?
My head’s a little cooler by the time I pull my jeans on. I didn’t mean to go crazy on the girl; that photo is special.
But how could she have known that?
The voice inside my head surprises me. The full picture pops into view. A man in a towel towering over her gets in her face and basically yells at her.
All of that anger is replaced with something even harder to feel, shame. I’m ashamed of myself for how I behaved. “Fuck.” I whisper to myself. I’m not used to feeling much these days, but the double whammy that just snuck up on me…
I have to apologize.
I throw on a fitted navy t-shirt and crack open my bedroom door. My footsteps are deafening as I make my way into the living room. Isla stands with her back to me, gazing out the window at the aggressive snow falling against the ground.
I make my way over to her, a petulant child asking forgiveness for their outburst. She either doesn’t hear me approach or chooses to ignore it. I stand there for a moment, unable to believe this is all happening today inside my own home.
“Hey.” She startles. It’s all I can think of to say.
Even with her back to me, I can see she’s been crying. She bats away the tears and then turns to face me. “Hey.” Isla’s forced smile is almost worse than having to see her tear-stained cheeks. I really fucked up. Again, I lost control, and look where it got me.
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’mnot 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.
