Hesucked in his bottom lip and let his silence speak for him.
“You’reout of your damn mind.”
Heremained silent.
“Ihonestly can’t believe you. Or how you could even come to that crazyconclusion! What have I ever done to give you any indication that I want you? Iwas being polite, asshole. Nice. I didn’t want to wound your poor, fragileego.” I yanked open the door, but before I walked through it I had to turnaround and say, “Tomorrow morning you’re going to feel embarrassed about all ofthis. And I’m not going to feel bad for you, Shaw. This is what you get.”
Iturned my back on him and that’s when he decided to speak. His voice still low,he asked, “And what if I want more of it, Kaya? Then what?”
Ilooked back at him over my shoulder. “Then find somebody else.”
Heshook his head and mouthed one word. “No.”
Mybody finally reacted the way it should have a half hour ago and I ran from thebuilding like the hounds of hell were chasing me.
If Ithought his barely there kiss a few days ago was bad, that was nothing comparedto the torment a full on make out session put me through. I tossed and turnedfor hours, replaying every second of the night.
Icouldn’t help but wonder what I’d done to lead Wyatt on. And then every singleinteraction between us seemed obvious and fraught with sexual tension. Hadn’t Ibitten his finger? How else was he supposed to interpret my actions?
And,God, was he that far off?
Alone,in my room, with nobody to face and no one else to answer to, I had to behonest with myself. Of course, I wanted Wyatt and I had imagined us together. Ihad noticed his body, his mouth, the way he would casually touch me every oncein a while. I had played around with the idea of how good we would be and howhe would totally rock my world in every sense of the phrase. But that was anatural reaction to what he looked like. That wasn’t my fault! He wasobjectively attractive.
Iwas reacting to him as any woman in my position would react to him.
WhenI rolled out of bed in the morning, he’d sent me an email. There was no subjector personal message other than a link that led to another interview.
Theinterview had gone live last week on a more popular website than Epissessedcalled Cocktails and Carnivores. It was a national site and didn’t have thepromise of local gossip, so I didn’t check it often. I read through it threetimes before I believed the words on the page.
“Howhas the transition gone?” they’d asked him.
Hisreply? “Unbelievably smooth. Honestly, I expected a fight. Killian was made inthat kitchen and I feel totally unqualified to fill his absence.”
“Youmust be doing something right,” they’d said.
“It’sthe staff mostly,” he’d answered. “Especially my sous chef. Kaya Swift. She’sstayed strong through the entire overhaul, giving the kitchen confidence to dowhat it does best—cook good food. I’d be completely lost without her.”
Iswallowed my tongue. Or nearly did. That should have been enough. That wouldhave been enough to shut me up about the Epissessed interview. But they’d goneon.
“Shesounds special,” the interviewer had commented.
Andin print, in type, right there in front of me, from a reputable website thatclaimed Wyatt had verbalized these exact words, said, “She is.”
Sothat was basically the sound of my entire world collapsing. Or exploding. Oraltering entirely.
Wyattwas full of surprises lately.
Itwas probably time I decided if I liked those surprises or if I wanted him toget the hell out of my kitchen.
Chapter Ten
“Youlook like hell.”
Mylip curled at Dillon as I slid across from her in the vinyl-cracked booth.“Good morning to you too.”
“Imean, clearly something’s up,” she went on. Not the least bit apologetic. “Areyou feeling all right? Do you have the flu?”
“Noflu.”
