Unsuitable

I’m tired, and my feet are aching. And, to round it all off, it’s raining.

But I came dressed for the weather, so if anyone feels like puddle-splashing me, they can because I have my raincoat on, Cece’s wellies on my feet, and an umbrella in my hand.

No way am I getting soaked.

I’m on the train, heading into work. My stomach is churning at the thought of seeing Kas.

I’m praying that he won’t be there, like he hasn’t been for these past few days.

I’m also not looking forward to telling Cooper that I can’t go out with him tonight.

I might be done with Kas-hole, but I’m still hurt over his behavior. I would only be going out with Cooper to get back at him, and that’s not fair to Cooper.

And I’ve decided that men just aren’t for me.

From now on, I’m Celibate Daisy.

Men are trouble, pure and simple. One man in particular, who goes by the name of Kas-hole.

But he’s no longer my problem.

I see my stop approaching. I get up from my seat, hooking my bag on my shoulder and grabbing my umbrella. I walk to the door.

I wait, watching as the station pulls into view, and I let out a yawn.

Cece and I weren’t out too late last night. We left soon after my little incident with Kas.

When I got back from the restroom, Cece was alone with our drinks, but she had gotten the number of the cute guy she was talking to.

But she took one look at my face and knew immediately that something was wrong.

All I had to say was one word—Kas. And then we were downing our drinks, heading out of there, and getting a taxi home.

I told her everything in the taxi ride home. The driver must have gotten a good story out of it.

By the time we got home, I was exhausted and emotionally drained, and I just wanted to go to bed.

My alarm went off far too soon for my liking, and I had to haul myself out of bed to get ready for work.

I made coffee, poured it into my to-go cup, and left the apartment to catch my train, cursing Cece and the fact that she’s off work today.

The train pulls to a stop. I pull my hood up and press the button, waiting for the doors to open.

People on the other side are waiting for me to get off before they can get on.

Raindrops hit my face as soon as my feet hit the asphalt. The rain is heavier here. I put my umbrella up and start walking out of the station.

I’ve just exited when my feet skid to a stop.

Kas.

His car is parked here, outside the station, like last time.

God, can’t this guy just leave me alone?

I focus on my anger and ignore the little spark I feel at him actually being here.

The passenger window opens, and I see him lean over as he calls my name.

He looks good. And warm and dry inside his car.

Bastard.

I scowl at him. Then, I swivel on my heel and start walking in the direction of the estate.

I’m practically marching, my boots splashing through puddles as I go.

I hear his car pull up alongside me. But I don’t look at it. I refuse to.

Kas does not exist to me.

“Daisy.”

Nope, not talking to him. I don’t care if it is childish.

He’s a Kas-hole, and I have every right to be pissed.

He left me in that restroom last night with my bra hanging out of my dress after, yet again, kissing me, and then he disappeared without a word.

“Daisy, get in the car.”

Did you hear something?

Nope, me neither.

I start humming Pharrell Williams’s “Happy” and pick up my pace.

“Jesus, just get in the car, will you? It’s pissing down, and you’re getting soaked.”

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

I hear a huff of frustration and then, “For fuck’s sake, Daisy, stop being childish, and just get in the fucking car.”

Um…

What. The. Hell?

Anger brings my feet to a stop.

I see in my peripheral that his car has also stopped.

Don’t look. Don’t do it. Don’t give him what he wants. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.

Taking a deep breath in, I blow it out through my nose.

Then, because I can’t help myself, I give him the middle finger and then start walking again.

I hear him chuckle, which just pisses me off even more.

Then, his car is back, slowly driving beside me.

I hear a horn blare, and I swivel my head to see a car overtaking Kas and giving him rude hand gestures.

I can’t help but smile.

As I move my eyes back around, I catch his stare.

He almost has a smile on his face. “You’re going to get me into a fight at this rate.”

“Good.”

“And she speaks.”

I scowl at him before facing forward and getting my march back on.

“Come on, babe, please get in the car.”

Babe? Since when am I his babe?

Swiveling my angry eyes back to his, I say, “Don’t call me babe.”

A look of surprise flickers across his face. “Okay.” He lifts a hand in surrender. “I won’t call you it ever again, if you’ll just please get in the car. You don’t even have to talk to me.”

Ugh. I can’t even ignore him in peace. The bastard.

At this rate, he’ll follow me all the way to the estate.

Or I could just get in his car and get this over with quicker.

Decision made, I come to a sudden halt. “Fine,” I huff. “But no talking.”

Then, I stomp over to his waiting car. I yank the door open, get inside, and slam the door shut. Grabbing the seat belt, I put it on. I’m dripping all over his nice leather seat.

Good.

I lift my eyes, and he’s staring at me.

At least he has the decency not to smile, or I might just punch him in his pretty face. I’m that mad.

I turn my face to the passenger window, and a second later, he puts the car into drive.

Limp Bizkit’s “Behind Blue Eyes” is playing in the background.

“I’m…sorry.” His soft words assault me.

I cut my eyes to him. “You said, if I got in your car, we wouldn’t have to talk.”

He quickly glances at me. “I said, you didn’t have to talk. But I didn’t say anything about me not talking.”

Bastard.

“Let me out of the car.” I keep my tone even. But it’s really, really hard because all I want to do right now is yell at him.

He sighs. “Daisy—”

“No. I’m not playing games here, Kas.”

“Neither am I.”

“You’re the master of mind games.”

There’s a brief pause. I’d almost call it regret if I didn’t know him better.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says quietly.

I scoff and turn my face back to the window.

Silence hits.

He blows out a breath. “Does this reign of silence have an end date?”

“No.”

“And what about at work? Are you going to freeze me out there, too?”

I tip my chin in his direction and stare at his hands on the steering wheel. “I can be professional, if you can. We can talk to each other at work, about work. But, outside of that, you and I don’t exist to each other.”

I dip my chin into my chest. I hear him sigh again. But he doesn’t say anything more.

He pulls up to the front of his house, and the second he presses the brake, I’m out of the car.

Fast-walking through the bouncing rain, I shove my hood back once I’m under the safety of the porch. I unzip my raincoat and pull it off, and then I take my wellies off.

Leaving my wellies on the porch, I take my raincoat with me and let myself in the house. Crossing the big hallway, I open the door to the coat closet and hang up my coat along with my bag but not before getting out my phone, which I slip into the pocket of my dress.

Shutting the door, I turn around, and Kas is standing there.

“Jesus!” I jump. I press a hand to my chest to calm the heart he just nearly killed.

But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t smile or say a word. He just stands, staring at me.

I shift uneasily, moving my stare from his, unable to take the intensity in his eyes.

My eyes wash over him. His hair is damp from the rain, and there’s a light sheen on his skin. And, for the first time since seeing him, I notice how tired he looks. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes themselves look tired and listless.

Even still, he looks beautiful.

I hate that.

Glancing past him, I spy the trail of water he let in. The water I’ll have to clean up.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” I tell him in a pissed off tone.

He doesn’t even give the mess a glance. “Talk to me.” There’s a pleading edge to his voice, which I ignore.

“About the mess you’ve made?” I gesture a hand to the water he walked in.

He makes an exasperated sound. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t curse at me.” I frown.

He laughs a humorless sound, which raises my hackles. “I want to talk about last night.”

“I don’t.”

“Daisy,” he growls my name.

“Mr. Matis,” I say in a patronizing tone.

“Talk. To. Me.” His words are gritted, like his jaw.

“Is it work-related?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” I push past him, heading for the kitchen.

I’m being childish, I know, but I don’t care because I’m mad as hell.

I hear him growl again, and then heavy footsteps follow me into the kitchen.

“For fuck’s sake, Daisy! I said I was sorry!”

I spin on the spot. “Oh, well, that’s okay then! Kas says he’s sorry, and everything is right in the world again.” Letting out a hollow laugh, I throw my hands up in the air.

His brows crash together. “Jesus,” he barks. “Just what is it that you want from me?”

“Nothing!” I yell. “I didn’t ask for any of this! You were the one who kissed me—both times! Then, you acted like a total head case afterward! And I told you that I wouldn’t talk about this with you! So, stop following me!”

I stamp my heel, and then I turn and start to walk away. I make it to the utility doorway when his voice stops me.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

It’s not just the words. It’s the way his voice sounded when saying the words—helpless.

It surprises me because helpless is never a word I would have thought in relation to Kas. Arrogant, overly confident, and a giant pain in my arse. But never helpless.

I slowly turn back to him. He looks defenseless and lost. It’s in the pull of his dark brows. In the tightening around his eyes. The downturn of his lips.

It tugs on something inside my chest, curling around my heart.

“You don’t know how to do what?” I ask in a quiet voice.

“This.” He gestures at the space between us.

“I don’t understand.” I gently shake my head.

“Relationships,” he says, frustrated, instantly getting my back up. “I don’t fucking know how to do relationships.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not asking you for a relationship. Jesus Christ! We kissed—twice. You went cold and walked out on me—twice. End of story.”

“I don’t want it to be the end.” His words are soft with meaning, but I can’t feel it right now. I’m too raw.

“I don’t care what you want. Just like you didn’t care what I wanted both times you walked out on me. There’s only so much rejection and humiliation that one person can take, and I’ve reached my fill. At work, we’ll talk when necessary and be cordial. But, aside from that, I’m done, Kas.”

Something that looks a lot like unrest and frustration and hurt enters his gaze.

I ignore his pain and focus on my own.

He wraps his arms around his chest, moving his stance. “If that’s what you want,” he says quietly.

I laugh, and it sounds as empty as I feel.

Yeah, this is what I want. Because I was the one who caused all this—not.

Sighing, I shake my head and pass him to leave the kitchen.

When I reach the door, I stop.

He’s facing away from me.

“Oh, and just so you know, I’m going out with Cooper tonight, just in case you wanted to let the horses out again.”

I see his shoulders tense before I turn and walk out of there.

My feet hit the stairs, and I’m already regretting my parting shot. It was petty and hurtful, and I shouldn’t have said it. But he just gets under my skin like no other. And it’s too late now. It’s not like I’m going to go downstairs and tell him that I am actually canceling my date with Cooper.

But then I’m sure he’ll hear that on the grapevine soon enough.

When I reach the second floor, I realize that all of my cleaning products are downstairs in the utility room that I never made it to.

Bugger.

Well, I’m not going back down there now in case he’s still in the kitchen.

I’ll strip the beds first, and by the time I’m done and ready to wash the bedding, he should be in his office, and I’ll be safe to go downstairs.

I walk into his bedroom and see that his bed is made.

Knowing that Kas never makes his bed, I know that he hasn’t slept in it. That leaves an uneasy feeling in my gut.

Maybe he hooked up with someone else at the club after he walked out on me…

Nope. Not even going to go there.

I throw the duvet cover back and pick up a pillow with a little more force than necessary.

Kas’s scent is all over it.

Ugh.

I tug off the pillowcase and angrily toss the pillow behind me.

I hear a thud.

Crap.

Turning, I see that I knocked over a glass of water that was on his nightstand.

“Perfect,” I mutter angrily to myself.

Water spilling everywhere, I dash into Kas’s bathroom and grab a towel before jogging back into his room.

Fortunately, the only other thing on the nightstand is the lamp, so cleaning up the spillage isn’t too difficult. I lift the lamp, drying off the base. Then, I wipe down the sides of the nightstand and dry off the water that hit the carpet.

I notice the top drawer is slightly ajar.

Worried water might have gotten inside, I pull it open and dry off the lip of the drawer, eyes checking the contents.

All looks good.

Then, my eyes snag on a photograph that’s tucked down the side.

I pick it up. I notice that something is written in cursive on the back.

HALEY HALLIWELL. PROM. 2009.

I turn the photo over in my hands. Staring back at me is a pretty girl.

Really pretty.

She looks young. Maybe eighteen. Long blonde hair that’s curled around her shoulders. She’s wearing a stunning pink dress that goes to her ankles, and she has silver heels on her feet.

And she’s wearing a huge, bright beaming smile on her face, her eyes shining with happiness.

It’s a smile of adoration…of love. And it was clearly meant for whomever was standing behind the camera.

Kas.

I know because I recognize the garden she’s standing in.

She was smiling for Kas.

I feel a pang in my chest. A pang called jealousy. I press my hand against it, trying to rub it away.

It’s ridiculous to feel jealous over a photograph, I know. It just bothers me that Kas cared enough about this Haley girl to make her smile…to make her happy.

Whereas with me, he just seems to want to hurt me—over and over again.

Sighing, I go to put the photo back, but then something stops me. And then—I’m not sure exactly why—I find myself pulling my phone from my pocket and snapping a picture of the photo before putting it back where I found it.

Then, I shut the drawer, tuck my phone into my pocket, and continue on with my task of stripping the bed.