Page 21 of Fighting For You
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jess
He stood there, blocking all but the very last few inches of the door frame, a scowl on his face and a massive, ridiculously fluffy cat draped around his shoulders.
I hadn’t thought too carefully about how he’d respond to my showing up here—hadn’t actually considered he wouldn’t at least let me say my piece.
But here he was, hulking, hand still on the knob, frowning down at me from an even greater height thanks to the two steps up into the house I hadn’t yet taken.
He swallowed hard, but nodded, and stepped back. His cat chose that moment to stand and jump from his shoulder to the floor, the loudthunkconfirming the fluffy boy or girl was a hefty fellow under all that fur.
Clear enough of a response from Beast, so I followed him in. A chilly breeze rushed behind me, sending a shiver up my back as I stepped into the warmly lit living room.Actually, it was weirdly too hot in here, but way too cold outside. I just needed to do my thing and then get home and I could put all of this behind me.
A large worn brown leather couch lined one wall, an overstuffed chair with a footstool in the corner, and a large TV was mounted on the wall across from the couch. The walls were the wood of the log cabin on the far end and a rich, cool blue behind the couch and TV. A patterned rug with reds, blues, greens, and golds centered everything and made it feel shockingly coordinated even in its worn-in coziness.
To my right, a short hallway led to three doors—could this place possibly have more than one bedroom? It was dark enough outside I hadn’t seen it in detail, but it seemed fairly compact.
Frankly, I’d expected something spare and man-caveish. Large TV, check, but something cozy and lived-in and inviting?
I stepped past the hallway after Beast and noticed a fireplace to my right, which seemed to open to both the living room and maybe around the corner to the kitchen, too. I wanted to peek around and see, but based on the way he looked strung with steel beams for bones and stress radiating from him, I wouldn’t push my luck.
Plus… why did I care what his man cabin in the woods looked like?
I coughed, a little burn chasing my breath out of my lungs. The exhaustion from not sleeping on Friday and again last night while I worried over whether my treatment of him made me a horrible human being was catching up to me. I felt the pull toward his couch—a place to sit and catch my breath before I did what I came to do and then went home to sleep until the last possible moment tomorrow.
Instead of moving into the living room, he turned toward the kitchen. Reluctantly glancing at the couch, I followed, gratified to find the fireplace didn’t open to the kitchen because that would just be weird.
The space looked surprisingly new—or maybe I’d made a huge assumption this place would be run down and old. Instead, a recessed farmhouse sink sat nestled to the left and some kind of gray stone countertops with dark leafy green cabinetry down low flanked it. The four-burner stove and a stunning copper hood were straight ahead, and to the left was a small butcher block-topped island. Natural wood shelves lined the top half of the walls to the side of the sink and the stove and bore neat stacks of stoneware dishes and sturdy glass drinkware. Past the island was the oven, a coffee station, the fridge, and shelves decked with non-perishable pantry goods.
It was… stunning.
“This is perfect.” It slipped out, little more than a whisper.
He made no sound, but his gaze swung toward me.
“Water?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah.” The offer left me weirdly discombobulated, but it shouldn’t have surprised me. He’d always had amazing manners and been an excellent host.
Well. Amazing manners when he wasn’t ignoring me, scowling at my general existence, or saying nasty little comments that dug right under my skin.
The dynamic between us certainly hadn’t been one that would point toward his offering me anything when I arrived, though, so it did leave me a bit shaky. In fact, I must’ve gotten more than a little worked up on the drive here, because I felt just this side of dizzy standing here in his space, watching him move around andfill two small mason jars with water, his cat making a lap around the kitchen before coming to gingerly sniff in my direction.
Unable to resist, I crouched and held out a hand. “My goodness, you’re a beautiful kitty baby.”
Evidently approving of my voice and scent, the cat dipped his head into my hand, and I petted him willingly. No telling whether he was a he, and no collar indicated a name, but something told me this big fellow was a boy. He was luxuriously soft and there was no trace of matted fur or tangles… he’d been well cared for.
The cat made a sweet little sound rather at odds with his giant form and, maybe more notably, the context. A rumbly motor had revved up in his body and his purr vibrated through my hand.
“What a sweet?—”
A loudclunkjarred me, and I glanced up to see Beast scowling down at me with disgust. He’d slammed one glass on the counter—I guess that one’s for me.I stood, arms wrapped around myself again, sensing I’d already done more than one thing wrong.
His jaw flexed. “Drink.”
My stomach clenched, his bossy tone cutting through the weird haze his lovely cabin and giant baby cat had wrapped me into. I glared at him, and he returned the look, taking a long slug of his water without breaking eye contact with me.
I wouldn’t snap at him—not when I’d come here expressly to apologize for doing just that. Or at least, apologize for lashing out about our past when he was dealing with new grief in his present.
