She’d tied her hair tied back in a messy bun, wore an oversized fleece and black leggings, her body swallowed by all the fucking fabric, and her gaze stayed low.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
Shannon fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “I can manage, thanks. You should go now.”
She’d been through hell, and he wasn’t about to leave her alone now.
“I’m sure you can manage on your own. But I’m here now. So, what’ll it be, love?”
“Fine, chuck a green tea bag in then.” She shrugged, her tone defensive.
He poured the hot water and dropped an organic tea bag into a mug, stepping closer. Shannon’s eyes lingered on his muscles for a moment before her gaze cut to the mug in her hand.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, scooting past him towards the couch.
Jamie lingered in the kitchen, an unfamiliar pull in his chest. She looked like a caged bird, broken and hiding, and he had this overwhelming urge to protect her.
“So, Shannon,” he began, pouring another vodka, “did someone call in to see you?”
Silence stretched while he knocked back the measure and set the mug on the counter.
“We’ll go away for a few days together,” he announced, strolling to the side of the couch. “Give you some space to get your head around everything that’s happened. I’ll take care of it. We’ll leave in thirty minutes, which will give you enough time to pack a bag. A chopper will pick us up.”
She whipped her head around, eyes narrowing, brows furrowing.
“No!” she spat, her voice sharp with anger.
The vodka in his belly burned, but her glare hit harder than any drink.
“Why not?” he pressed. “You need someone to talk to, love. And I’m that person. I’ll handle everything. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her eyes hardened, a veil of irritation clouding her gaze. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and telling me what I need? You don’t even know me, so don’t pretend to care. We both know I’m just another girl to fuck.”
“Shannon.” He warned. “You’re not just some random woman.”
She scoffed, her lips curling with bitterness.
“Well, what am I then—huh? I told you I don’t have time for guys, and I meant it. Didn’t you get the memo, Jamie? We said just sex. And I can’t even give you that now. I have nothing else to offer.”
Jamie hesitated, unsure whether to push or pullback. But finally, he spoke, a slight smile on his lips. “C’mon, Shannon. It could be more than just sex.”
“Get out of here, please,” she pleaded, the edge in her voice softening with vulnerability. “And out of my life. I’m sick of men like you—throwing money around like it’ll solve everything. Men who think they can control everything.”
She slammed the mug onto the corner table, spilling hot water across the surface.
He watched her straighten her back, trying to hide the tremors of anger in her hands. Her frustration and pain were all directed at him.
Jamie became the target of her breakdown, and for a moment, he almost wanted to step in, pin her to the wall and order her to breathe, but he couldn’t.
Not when he could see how much she needed to be in control.
She backed up, distancing herself. So he took a step closer and offered her his hand. “Let’s take a minute, love. Sit with me.”
“Get back. I’m warning you, Jamie,” she spat, her fists clenched, the anger burning through her. “I can’t just drop everything. I have responsibilities. I’ve worked too damn hard for everything I’ve built. No man is going to take that away from me. Now go!”
The words hit him like a punch, but he didn’t flinch. He understood her pride, her drive, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear the rejection.
“I want to help. Going away was just an idea. Forget it. We can spend time here instead, drinking tea for thenext few hours. No pressure. Whatever works for you, love.”
