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I nod, suddenly unable to take my eyes off him. It’s not just that he’s beautiful. Our kitchen looks sorightwith him standing there like this is just another day. Like he’s my today, tomorrow, and forever. My very own normal—something I’ve always wanted.
I can’t lose him again.
“My boss said I can work from home. It’strue,” I add defensively at his skeptical look. “And I will in a minute, I just...”
Had to see you. Touch you. Hold you.
Tell you something that will hurt like hell.
His face falls as he studies me, and he flips off the burner. “What’s wrong? Did you hear from Pierce?”
Shit. Now what? He’s in enough trouble. The last thing I want to do is give him a reason to find more. But his anxious eyes search my face, and I don’t know how to keep secrets from him anymore.
“Yeah. Just the usual crap,” I say in a dismissive tone. “What are you making? Smells good. Let me guess. More leftovers you’ll throw on a tortilla?”
I move toward him to check the skillet, but get distracted by perfection blocking my path. He stares at me with a hard expression, and I let out a resigned sigh.
“Fine,” I mumble, plucking my phone from my back pocket.
I pull up the texts and hand it to him. His eyes go dark as he reads through them, and I realize he’s reading the earlier ones as well. Double shit. When he touches the screen, I swipe for the phone, but he turns away.
“What are you doing?” I snap, clawing at him. “Give me my phone!”
He twists back, looking about as angry as I am right now.
“How long has this been going on?” he asks. “How long has that bastard been harassing you?”
“It’s fine. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“No? How do you know that?”
“I’m handling it. It’s not your problem. Now, give me phone back.”
“Not myproblem? How the hell is this not my problem?”
“Pierce is my mess and my mistake and I’m going to fix it.”
“And how are you going tofixit in a way that doesn’t get you hurt?”
He crosses his arms over his bare chest in a cocky stance I should despise. And I do, I swear. But my sex-drive clearly disagrees with my head on Tristan Haverford in alpha-mode, because… Gah! He’s infuriating.
“If I get hurt, I get hurt,” I hiss. “But it’smydecision how to handle it. I’m so sick of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about!” I snatch the phone from his hand and shove it in my pocket.
“Iz…”
“No! My entire life you, and everyone else, have taken away my choices by manipulating me, and I’m done with it!”
“Manipulate you? That’s what you think?”
“That’s what Iknow!”
“Because I made you hate me?”
“Because you made me your pawn!”
