Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(94)

“No way. I’ll have backup. Need you to stay put right here.”

“With you or watching out for you? There’s a difference,” I say, trying not to sound too frustrated.

It’s dark, so I can’t tell if he’s thinking or not, but he knows what I’m talking about.

Having Davis or Cash hanging around isn’t the same as being with him, front and center. They may not know if someone was inside until it’s too late.

“Why’d you get out of the security business, anyway? You’re good at what you do.”

“Bryce, first and foremost.” I believe him, but I also sense some odd hesitation in his voice.

“So you can be a full-time father and he won’t be in danger?” My stomach sinks. “Like he is now.”

Ugh. Here comes the self-imposed guilt trip.

“Stop it, Val. You aren’t to blame for this shit.”

I stare out the window, not seeing much of anything.

He’s obviously right.

I stay quiet as he pulls through the gate and into the garage. Icy silence remains as we walk into the house.

I’ve managed to keep the tears back all day—mostly—but I’m not sure how I’ll keep it up as soon as the lights are on.

So I move to the staircase as he flips the switch and adjusts the brightness of the recessed lights.

“You hungry?” he asks. “It’s been a while since lunch. I can whip up a quick supper.”

Sigh. If only food were the cure to everything like this outrageous man seems to think it is.

I keep walking. “No, not right now. Maybe later.”

I need a breather in my room. No, not my room. It’s Flint’s. The entire house is his.

I’m just a guest here causing turmoil. I don’t belong tangled up in his beautiful life or anywhere. But especially not here, not now, when I’m putting everyone at risk.

Shaking my head, I chastise myself quietly.

This needs to stop.

Still, it pisses me off. I don’t want to be the person I used to be—but how do I even start rebuilding an identity, a new life, when the old one is breathing down my neck like a hungry dragon?

I want to be someone else.

Someone who lives for others without the whole freaking world bending on its axis for her issues.

Spinning around, I leave the room, and force myself to walk down to the kitchen again.

“Change your mind?” he asks, looking up from the counter. “I was just starting a seafood stew. It’s this stuff my ma used to make, bouillabaisse.”

I smile at the way he butchers the French word. He beams back a grin that could melt every dress in a hundred-mile radius.

“I know, I know. Can’t pronounce it worth shit but trust me. It’s good stuff.”

“I believe you, but I’m still missing my appetite.” I huff out a breath, folding my arms. “This is my fault. I’m not here to cry about it, but I have to do something about it.”

He sets down the knife he’d used to chop up garlic. “You already are.”

I pace the floor in front of the kitchen island, still not sure what I can do about any of this. The frustration inside me builds like a firestorm.

“Val.” He whispers my name in that low rumble he has, toweling off his hands after rinsing them. “You’re gonna make yourself dizzy, woman, fluttering around like a lost bee. Why don’t you sit?”

He steps around the counter and grasps my shoulders tight.

It’s the first time our bare skin has touched since we shared his bed.

Argh. I’m shameless. A total...I don’t even know.

I can’t think straight when he’s touching me. Looking through me with those eyes like lashing blue flames.

But it works. I stop fretting over things I can’t control.

My mind goes back in time to his bed. My heart follows. It’s racing so fast the rest of me can’t keep up.

So I cover my face with both hands, trying like hell to ignore my mess of a life, and enjoy this beast-man’s safety, his warmth, his magnificent embrace.

“Give it time,” he says softly.

Time. Right.

It only feels like forever being close enough to kiss him.

My mind flashes to us in his bed, and the image won’t leave. I reach out, running my hands up his neck, tracing his chiseled jaw.

He grabs my wrists and gingerly pulls my hands away from his face.

I keep my eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, Valerie. Look at me.”

I don’t dare, but I suck in a deep breath and listen.

Compassion and kindness fill his face. “I know this shit’s been hard on you, and I promise it’ll get better. Very soon. You’re too good to stay down in hell.”

I can’t find my voice.

Probably because I have no freaking clue what I’d say.

I shouldn’t act on desire, so I consider stepping away. But he still has this tight, bearish hold of my hands.

I shake my head.

Flint won’t let go.

He pulls me closer, then folds his arms around me. “I said I promise. Not something I ever do lightly.” The way he growls just confirms it.

My arms wrap around him, and I hold on tight, even as I’m suffering every second I’m pressed to his chest, breathing him in. He’s sandalwood and sea. This fierce, unmistakably masculine scent that’s absolutely Flint.