Sexy Jerk(16)

I can't explain it.

Too much wine is the only answer.

When Nick hands me the large brandy snifter with a small amount of amber colored liquid inside it, I try to expel the feeling and find myself taking a healthy sip of the liquor to help me do so.

"Now, Tess," Nick says with a speculative look my way.

"Yes, Nick," I answer, and it's then that I notice he's slid his long, lean body onto the couch not that far away from me. I take him in. He has an ankle on one knee, his glass resting on his thigh, and I swear he looks different than I've ever seen him. Sure, he still looks so very confident, so very in control, but he also looks so very male. Glancing over at him makes the heat inside me spread like wildfire. And then, all of sudden, an anticipation I can't explain emerges as I wait for him to speak.

The brandy glass has just barely left his lips when he does. "Tell me why your day was so shitty?"

Surprised he remembers I mentioned that, and more surprised he even cares, I find myself opening up to him. I quickly tell him the entire story about how I almost found my new café a home. Without thought. Without thinking about what it is Nick does for a living. Without realizing he might know Mathias Bigelow. Be his friend, even.

Pausing before I get to the end of my story to take another sip of my drink, I watch as Nick's feature's draw together. His eyes grow cold. His jaw tightens. And his forehead creases. 

Crap.

I now really do think Mathias and him are friends. And Nick is growing angry as my story goes on because I assume he thinks I'm exaggerating it.

After a long pause, Nick seems to force his words out. "Are you telling me you met him, by yourself, earlier this evening?"

It's not really a question, though. It's more like an accusation.

I nod, not sure if I should stop or continue.

"And," he snaps, as if I am the one who had done wrong by meeting the man.

Angered that his reaction is so visceral, that it seems he has sided with Mathias before even hearing me out, I go on if only to prove to him I was not the shady one.

When I get to the part where Mathias invaded my personal space, I don't tell him I was worried about my well-being. I don't tell Nick, though, not because I am uncertain about his relationship with Mathias Bigelow, but rather because what happened makes me look weak. And the one thing I never want to be is weak, especially in front of a man.

My father was a man of God and believed strongly that a dutiful wife did as she was told. My mother believed the same and never spoke up. Perhaps if she'd spoken up, if she hadn't been so weak, her and my father would still be alive. She didn't want to go on the mission trip to Nigeria, but he insisted. She said it was dangerous. He said they'd be fine. They were killed two days after arriving by a local terrorist organization.

Shutting out the pain, I finish the story by telling Nick I strode out of the rental space without signing anything and headed back here. Then I add, "And I'd been sitting where you found me at the island ever since, mulling everything over."

A low hiss escapes Nick's lips. "Did he touch you? Hurt you in anyway?"

Immediately, I glance away. I don't want any weakness to slip through my already cracking façade because no, he didn't physically hurt me, he just scared me, and that angers me. Really angers me.

"Tess, look at me."

Though his tone is gentle, there is no mistaking the command in his voice. I'm not accustomed to obeying men, and yet, I give him what he wants, and look his way.

Nick's gaze is hard. "Did he?" he repeats.

I shake my head. "No, but he did get really close to me. Close enough that he gave me cause to never want to meet with him alone again."

Everything about Nick goes stiff. "That son of a bitch!"

Without thought, I reach out and place my hand on his thigh. "Nick, really, I'm fine."

The doubt remains evident in his stare.

Through the thumping beat of my heart, I try to find the right words. I have to remove my hand from his leg to do so. It's as if the illicit touch was almost too much to stay focused on the conversation. "To be honest," I tell him, "I'm just pissed at myself for allowing myself to be put in a situation like that. I'm normally much more careful about who I meet with and where."

Nick mutters something under his breath that I can't comprehend. His expression is practically murderous as he shifts his gaze from where my hand had been mere moments ago up to my face.

"Nick?" I whisper, wondering what he is thinking.

There is fire in his brilliant blue eyes, and he looks like he might explode at any second. "You have to give me a minute," he mutters.

Not quite understanding his disposition, I do so anyway.

He visibly inhales and exhales through his nose as if trying to calm himself in what I perceive to be a much-practiced manner.