Page 13 of Broken By Her Mate

Laila’s eyes squinted. “We? So, you’re staying here too?”

“Of course. I intend to keep a close eye on you.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “Well, I assumed you’d just leave me here. I mean, we’re in Bellefleur, and I’m all the way up here in the woods. Whoever was stalking me wouldn’t know I’m here…”

Closing the car doors, he said, “That’s not how this works, Laila. Let’s get inside.”

Her soft sigh fluttered around them, and he practically heard her reluctance as she followed him to the cabin. His lips twisted wryly. She hated the idea of sharing a space with him. He wasn’t all that thrilled, either. Having temptation within reach and having to keep his hands to himself would be sheer torture.

Chapter 6 - Laila

Laila stopped when she stepped out of her childhood bedroom and gazed down the hall at her grandmother’s room. The melancholy that had been assaulting her since she got to the cabin hit her again. The place was filled with amazing memories, but her grandmother's absence dimmed the light on some of them.

Mornings with Grandma Rose had been perfect and comforting. With her life having been turned upside down in the last few days, she needed her grandmother more than ever. Releasing a sigh, she went into the living room. The house smelled the same as if it hadn’t been abandoned for years. She let her fingers trace the edges of the worn center table. There was a layer of dust on it—on all the furniture. She’d have to do some cleaning.

As she assessed the room, she smiled at the memory of her and her grandmother sitting and chatting about recipes. After she lost her father, her grandmother raised her, and she nurtured Laila’s passion for cooking and baking.

“Grams, I miss you so much,” she sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t checked on the place in so long.”

The sound of Tolliver in the kitchen pulled her back from her memories. His presence was almost too much in the big house. Even when she lay in bed, she couldn’t sleep because thoughts of him in the next room nearly drove her mad. She hated being stuck here with him, only because it was a mocking reminder that they lived together once, and it had been great. She wished she didn’t have to play house with him now. It was emotionally draining.

Glancing toward the kitchen, she shook her head and listened to the clinking of what sounded like plates. What was Tolliver even doing in there? He was a terrible cook. The man was capable of burning water. She’d better get in there before he burned the place down. When she stepped into the kitchen, she stopped to take in the scene.

Tolliver had a dishcloth thrown over one shoulder and was taking something out of the oven. He looked up and smiled at her—his version of a smile, which was the slight quirking of his lips.

“Morning, sleeping… Laila.”

His near slip-up made her heart constrict. He used to call her sleeping beauty whenever she slept late. Tolliver’s small smile vanished when he realized what he’d almost said. The awkwardness that was never too far from the surface rose to consume them. Her gaze skated away from his. This—them living together—was chipping away at her defenses because why did she want to smile at the picture Tolliver made?

His floral apron was such a contrast to the big, serious man that it was ridiculous. Realizing she was staring at the apron, he shrugged and rubbed his nape. “I thought wearing the appropriate attire would somehow enhance my culinary skills,” he grumbled.

She wanted to laugh. This was the Tolliver she’d had three incredibly happy years with. He was the most intensely serious man, but when he was with her, he was softer and funny without even trying to be. “Tolliver, you don’t have any skills at all to enhance. You suck at cooking.”

His eyebrows dipped into a frown, but then amusement lit up his eyes. “I won’t deny it.”

Laila chuckled. “Then why are you in the kitchen?”

“I thought I’d do my part. You’ve been doing all the cooking for days. I wanted to give you a break.”

Her heart softened. He’d always been considerate. “I see.” She glanced at the baking tin he’d taken out of the oven. “What exactly is that?”

“Bread.”

They both observed the charred blob in silence. Finally, Tolliver said, “Well, it’s supposed to be bread.”

Laila lifted an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can’t let you eat that,” he sighed. “It might be poisonous.”

Laila pursed her lips to hold back her laughter.

“I don’t understand. I followed the recipe.”

Tolliver looked so adorably confused that Laila’s heart softened some more. The organ almost melted in her chest. “It’s okay. I’ll make us something edible.”

He snorted. “I really wanted to surprise you this morning.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” She gave him a once over and laughed. “Take that apron off. You look ridiculous.”