Page 8 of I see you Beauty

He’s standing in the pool with me. The water is soaking through his dark jeans up to his waistband. His expression is stern, yet I can see a glimmer of disbelief. His rough fingers encircle my wrist, instantly electrocuting my skin there. What are you doing here?

Chapter Four

What are you doing, Beauty?

Ican feel your pulse hammering under my fingers.

You’re agitated, no, downright upset, and you were about to do something unspeakably stupid. Why are you doing this? What makes you want to be at the bottom of the pool again? I don’t understand you.

That’s why I had to stop you from making a huge mistake again. When I saw you for the first time the other day, I felt like I had to save you.

I was on my roof replacing the old shingles.

This house sold for a steep price due to its many half-finished renovations. However, I'm not short on money and welcome the distraction. I enjoy working with my hands and fixing things—it’s a welcome change from the stress of recent years.

When I saw you sink into the water and you didn’t resurface, I didn’t think twice and jumped off the ladder and over the fence in one leap. Right as I was going to jump in to get you, you emerged. And then I saw it, the deep sadness in your beautiful eyes. But you should have everything you need, don’t you…?

However, considering your argument with your husband, your world doesn’t appear as intact as you might want everyone to believe. When I arrived home on my motorcycle just now, I noticed how he grabbed you, and you slapped him. I’m proud of you, Beauty.

You’re a wildcat who has forgotten how to roar in captivity. Who has forgotten how sharp her teeth and claws are. Baby, you are deadly. Don’t forget that.

I don’t know what about you fascinates me so much that I’m standing in your pool in jeans, sneakers, and a shirt, holding you by the wrist to keep you from doing something stupid. I shouldn’t care because, after all, you’re taken and older than me. Not really my type. Usually…

And yet here I am in wet clothes, looking into your beautiful green cat eyes. Yes, you’re a wildcat, baby. And I’ll give you back your roar—like the proud lioness you are deep inside.

Chapter Five

My heart is pounding and a loud noise is ringing in my ears. I stand there, looking over my shoulder at my neighbor in disbelief.

What is he doing here?

And how does he do it? Always appearing in the right place at the right time? To be there again when I’m on the verge of losing myself? Countless questions swirl in my mind, yet I remain silent before him, gazing into his captivating eyes.

His irises are amber-colored, covered with golden speckles. Beautiful and… soft.

They are the perfect contrast to his serious expression and sharp features. His full lips look so incredibly soft that I want to taste them. My God! What am I thinking?

Panicked by the thoughts I’m not allowed to have, I tear myself away from him, turn around, and take steps backward up the stone stairs. My hand clasps the part of my wrist he held between his rough fingers. My skin still feels electrified where he touched me. This is not good!

“Is everything okay, Mrs. Shepherd?” he asks me in his rough voice, which sends a shiver down my spine no matter how much I resist it. This can’t be happening.

So I nod eagerly and hurry away. I have to get away from him and get out of this situation. God! What was I thinking? I… I should have…

Everything starts spinning. My head spins like a top, endlessly whirling without pause or fatigue. This situation, the argument with Thomas earlier, his broken promise, and the past flashbacks are all too much—far too much!

My still-damp fingers run along my hairline, and I clutch my thick mane for support. I desperately need to stop the spinning in my head, which is throwing off my balance and threatening to make me fall. My breathing is getting faster and faster, and my heart is pounding so loud and hard against my ribs that it almost hurts.

“Hey, take it easy, okay? Look at me,” my rescuer urges me in a calm voice, and I obey when I feel his rough fingers on my cheeks.

He’s suddenly so close to me that I can smell his aftershave. This smell, mixed with his scent of wood, leather, and chlorine, rises to my nose like a deadly gas. Our eyes meet as I’m about to hyperventilate, and both his hands cup my face. My fingers are digging roughly into my scalp, trying to ground me.

“Breathe, Beauty,” he continues to instruct me.

I’m so caught up in this situation that I can’t even say anything about his nickname for me because the spinning won’t stop. Why can’t I make it stop?

I was just about to… wasn’t I? The lump in my throat continues to swell. Hot tears are already stinging my eyes. This is wrong, so wrong. He’s too close to me, far too close…

I take a step back and pull away from him because his fingers are setting my skin on fire.

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