His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency 6)

Like he’d gotten under hers. He’d crawled under there like a parasite, and he hadn’t wormed his way back out yet. She had a feeling he never would.

He froze with his hand on the knob, his shoulders hard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She lifted her chin.

He spun, taking an angry step toward her, trembling with leashed power. Something in her stomach clenched in reply, something that recognized that power, and wanted to set it free. He stopped just short of reaching her and raised a hand, resting it on his chest. “I am not sexist.”

She cocked her head, offering him a tight smile. “If you say so.”

“I don’t think you should stay in the kitchen, damn it.” He dropped his hand to his side, fisting it. “I think it’s awesome you’re a cop. I think you’re the strongest woman I know, and that’s hot as hell. I care about you, and I want you to be happy. More than that, I admire you.”

“But not enough to want to be with me,” she shot back.

“Enough to know that I can’t handle the fact that I might lose you. Enough to know if I’m not the right man for you, then I needed to let you go, even if I didn’t want to. Enough to know I would hate myself if I somehow snuffed that light that burns in your eyes, and asked you not to do the thing you love most in this world.” He broke off, taking a deep breath. “So I set you free, before I could do any of those things. I let you go.”

Her chest tightened, and she blinked rapidly because, God, he was such an idiot. She hadn’t wanted to be set free. She’d wanted him. “Yeah. You let me go. Wow. Gee. Thank you so much for that kindness. For setting me free like that. You’re such an altruist. An inspiration to mankind.”

“You don’t get it,” he exclaimed, closing the distance between them and stopping directly in front of her. Close enough to touch. To smell. To want. “I broke up with you for you, not me. I did it for you. I was trying to protect you—”

“By breaking my heart?” she cried.

He made a broken sound and dragged his hands down his face. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was… Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Ever.”

“You didn’t have to lose me, you idiot!” she shouted, slamming her hands on his chest, and then grabbing his jacket. “You just had to accept me as I was. You just had to…to…love me. I gave myself to you in ways I’ve never given myself to any other man, including William, and I let you in. You begged me for a chance, and I let you in. But instead of giving me the same courtesy, you left me at the first sign of danger. And I’ll never forgive you for that.”

He stared at her, looking as if she’d punched him in the gut. “Daisy—”

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t get to Daisy me. Not anymore.”

He tried to touch her face, but she slapped his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never should have broken it off like that. I was scared, and I—”

“Yeah. I know. I was scared, too. But I didn’t run this time. You did.” She crossed her arms, the room blurring in front of her because of the stupid tears he was making her fight off. “I never should have opened the door.”

He shook his head. “Don’t say that—”

“I’ll say what I want to say.”

He reached for her hand. “Damn it, Daisy. I—”

The door opened, and Tim stuck his head in right as she lurched back. “Are things—?” His eyes narrowed when he saw how close they were, and he shot Mark a dirty look. One that said exactly how much he’d like to get alone in a room with him for five minutes. “Everything okay here, Officer O’Rourke?”

“Y-Yes. We were just finishing up.” She grabbed her phone, and avoided looking at Mark. “You’re free to go, Mr. Matthews.”

He stood there, not moving. “Daisy—”

“You heard her,” Tim said, stepping next to her and frowning at Mark. “You’re free to go. So go.”

“Daisy. I’m sorry.”

Even though she could feel him looking at her, silently begging her to meet his eyes one last time, she didn’t. She walked out the door without looking back.

Just like he’d done to her on that street.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mark tugged on his tie, shifting his weight, and watched his cousin’s first dance at her wedding. Her dress was beautiful. She glowed with happiness and excitement. And the groom? Damn, he looked like he was on cloud nine. Mark lifted the bottle of water to his lips and drank, trying his best to look happy for them. And he was. For them.

But he wasn’t fucking happy.