And when an hour passed, then nearly two hours, I started to pace, feeling like a trapped tiger. The town is a good half hour away, I kept telling myself. It would take time to get there, for her to shop, for her to come back.
I needed to quit being an obsessive, crazy asshole. But thinking these things, feeling this way for Kitty, came naturally, so naturally it should terrify me.
But it didn’t.
I tried to focus on work while she’d been gone, but I realized that not having her in the house, not knowing she was near and safe, made it impossible.
There was an alert from the security system that let me know a vehicle was at the gate. I looked at the monitor and saw the SUV, actually breathing out in relief. I felt like this weight lifted off my chest, knowing she was finally back.
Once she pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the house, I was out of my seat and heading outside. I opened the front door and made my way down the steps just as she was getting out of the driver side. She popped the back of the vehicle, and I went around to start grabbing bags.
“You don’t have to help,” she said softly, and I waved off her comment.
Of course I was going to help. What kind of man would I be if I made her do this shit on her own?
It took about five minutes to get all the groceries in the house. I noticed she was avoiding me, not looking at me, keeping her distance. It didn’t sit well with me and had my hackles rising. I followed her into the kitchen and studied her face. She looked nervous as she continued to bite her bottom lip, pulling at the pink flesh.
“Is everything okay?” The first thing that came to mind, that had every protective instinct rising in me, was something happened in town. She seemed fine before she left, but now? Now, she looked—acted—almost on edge.
She nodded and said, “I’m fine.”
I was successful in what I did, not only because I knew how to run a multimillion-dollar company, but because I also knew how to read people. I knew when they were lying, knew when they were nervous. And there was definitely something wrong with Kitty. I was also successful at what I did, because I didn’t allow a challenge to go unchecked. And if I wanted something— the truth—I didn’t stop until it was mine, until I uncovered it, until I knew all its secrets.
I leaned against the entryway frame of the kitchen, crossing my arms over my chest and just watched her. She started unloading the groceries and setting them on the counters, but I took note that she kept favoring one side toward me.
She was hiding something.
I moved farther into the kitchen so I could look directly at her, so she couldn’t avoid me. And then I examined her, trying to look for signs on what was wrong. She kept lifting her eyes to me and darting them away.
“I feel like something’s wrong, Kitty. What happened in town?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I just drove around for a little bit to get the layout of town then went to the grocery store.”
I let my gaze travel over her face, along her neck and shoulders, looked at one arm, then went lower still. I was about to continue my way down to see where she was injured, but the mark on her arm had my entire body tightening instantly.
The skin was red, with undertones of purple and blue underneath. A fucking bruise. The mark normally wouldn’t have had me on edge for the most part, but it was the fact that it was very clearly an indentation of fingers.
I braced my hands on the granite island in the kitchen and leaned forward, my gaze still locked on her wrist. “What happened?” I tried to ease my tone. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten her. “Who did that to you?” I felt enraged.
Somebody touched her.
Somebody hurt her.
She exhaled as if tired and placed her hands flat on the counter before looking up at me. She wasn’t afraid of me, of my tone. I sensed that from her. Good.
I tried to be gentle, to be soft with her, but I was the type of man who was anything but. But I’d try, I’d try really fucking hard for her, because she deserved that and more.
I stared into her eyes, wanting to tell her that I could be that safe space she needed, that I’d protect her, keep her safe. I could see that resistance fade on keeping whatever she was hiding to herself. She sighed once more and looked down at her hands that were still braced on the counter.
“It was just some guy at the grocery store. I’m sure he was drunk. I could smell the alcohol pouring off of him.”
Although outwardly I probably looked like her words hadn’t affected me, but the truth was, they did. My blood was boiling, everything inside me demanding I go find this fucker and rearrange his face.
“He put his hands on you?” I felt pretty good for not sounding like a deranged animal as I said that. She nodded slowly and started gently rubbing at her bruised wrist. “Do you know who he was?” My heart was beating a mile a minute.
“No,” she said and shook her head.
“Did he have any distinguishing features?” I tried to sound curious, nonchalant, but I heard the hardness creeping in my voice.
She looked at me for a long moment before saying, “I’m fine, Fin. I promise.”
“Kitty,” I said and leaned in a little closer. “Did he have any marks? Scars? Tattoos? Anything like that?” The town was small enough, and I’d lived here my whole life, so unless he just moved here, I’d know who this fucker was.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “He had a snake tattoo on his arm. And he was missing a tooth.”
I growled low, let that fucking sound leave me with so much power I saw her eyes widen from the fact.
Josh.
I knew who the bastard was. He was a town drunk, a lowlife who harassed anyone who wasn’t a local. He’d been arrested for petty shit more times than anyone could count. And because Kitty had just moved here, he probably assumed she was just passing through or too brand new to know what a piece of shit he was.
I was going to beat that fucker’s ass.
“That look on your face,” she said softly, and I forced my grip on the counter to relax.
I pulled back my shoulders and straightened, giving her a smile, but I felt as if it didn’t reach my eyes. “What look?”
I saw her swallow again, and then she was rubbing her palms up and down her thighs. “It’s a look like you want to go find him.”
That’s because I do. I will find him.
I gave her another smile, this one pulling at the corner of my mouth. “Go after him?” I tried to appear like I was relaxed when I was anything but. “I’m not a maniac, Kitty.” But I am when it concerns you.
Her expression told me she didn’t believe me, that a part of her probably thought I was fucking crazy.
But she didn’t press and instead nodded and went back to unpacking the grocery bags. And I just watched her, listened to her tell me what she planned for dinner tonight, how she’d gotten me Tosco’s for dessert.
And although I heard every word, the one thought that kept going through my mind was how I planned on finding Josh and hurting him like he fucking hurt my woman.
10
Fin
I would’ve never—had never—done anything that would be considered reckless, that would and could give a bad light to Hawthorne Oil. But the fact that some little prick put his hands on Kitty and hurt her had every single piece of common sense and rational thought leaving me.