Page 30 of Tempting My Nemesis

“Long day?” I ask, my tone light but with an underlying edge of concern.

“Busy. You?” His response is clipped, almost dismissive. A small pang of anxiety twists in my gut—this isn’t like him. At least, not like the him from our trip.

“Same. Just trying to keep things on track.” I force a smile, but inside, my doubts are growing.

He moves closer, reaching for a glass from the cupboard above me. Our hands brush as he does, sending an unexpected spark through me. I struggle to maintain my composure at the warmth of his touch, but even in this small contact I feel a restraint that wasn’t there before.

This isn’t right. Something’s wrong—I can feel it. Was our time together at the beach house just some kind of game?

My heart races, a mixture of frustration and longing swirling within me. I want to pull away, to protect myself from the sting of his distance, but instead, I find myself leaning into his presence, craving the connection we had shared.

Caleb sets the glass on the counter with a deliberate thud.

“Dinner smells good,” he says without looking at me.

“Thanks,” I reply softly, hoping to bridge the gap between us.

He’s close enough now that I can see the tension in his jawline, the way his fingers tap rhythmically against the countertop—a habit I've come to recognize as a sign of deep thought or agitation.

“You seem... preoccupied,” I venture cautiously.

“Just work,” he says dismissively.

There it is again—the wall. Every word he speaks feels like another brick laid between us.

I set down the knife and turn to face him fully.

“Is it really just work?”

He finally meets my eyes, and for a moment, something flickers there—something raw and unguarded—but it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I’m handling it,” he says evenly.

I bite my lower lip. “You don’t have to handle everything alone.”

His gaze hardens slightly. “I’m used to it.”

The words hang heavy in the air between us. I want to reach out, to tear down whatever barrier he's erected around himself tonight, but I'm not sure how without pushing him further away.

The uneasiness thickens with each passing second until it's almost suffocating. I need to know where we stand—if what we have is real or if I'm just fooling myself.

“Caleb,” I start quietly, “if there’s something you’re not telling me...”

He cuts me off with a sharp look. “Zoe, not everything needs to be dissected.”

His tone stings more than I'd like to admit. I swallow hard and nod slowly.

“Okay,” I whisper before turning back to the vegetables.

The silence stretches on painfully as Caleb retreats further into himself despite standing only inches away from me. I can't take it anymore. My hands tremble as I set down the dish I've been holding, the ceramic clinking against the marble countertop.

"Caleb," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."

He looks up, his gray eyes piercing through me. His expression shifts for a moment—is it fear? But it's gone in an instant, replaced by that cool mask he wears so well.

"About what?" His tone is clipped, defensive.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

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