Carnal Urges

18

When he stands there silently, glaring at me in outrage, I add, “I think he needs someone to look after him. I’m guessing his blood pressure isn’t what it should be, either.”

I can almost see Declan’s hair falling out, strand by strand.

I smile at him. “Any updates on the clothes I needed? I’d kill for a pair of lululemons right now.”

He mutters, “You probably shouldn’t mention the word ‘kill’ at the moment.”

God, it’s so satisfying getting under his skin. It might be my new favorite thing. My smile grows wider. “You know what I think?”

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.”

“I think you just wanted an excuse to come back in here and see me.”

“And I think calling you an i***t would be giving you far too much credit.”

I laugh. “Good one. How long did it take you to figure out how to use the internet to look that up, Grandpa?”

“Your parents are brother and sister, aren’t they?”

“Oh, look, we finally have something in common!”

His face turns red. His hands curl to fists at his sides. He stands there staring at me in unblinking, silent fury, breathing hard and gritting his teeth even harder.

I’ve finally done it. Declan is about to drop dead from rage.

I stand, wipe my hands on a napkin, and cross to him. Looking up into his angry face, I say, “I’d like to show you a trick that might help you cope when you’re in stressful situations.”

“And I’d like to show you the inside of a dungeon, but we can’t always get what we want.”

“Be quiet for a minute, gangster.”

“You first.”

That makes me roll my eyes. “I’m trying to be helpful here.”

“I didn’t need any help until I met you.”

My smile is sweet. “You mean kidnapped me. As I was saying, a trick.”

I draw a slow breath for a count of four, hold it for a count of four, exhale for a count of four, then wait to draw another breath until I’ve counted to four.

He watches me with a look of disgust. “Congratulations. You know how to hold your breath. It will come in handy after I’ve put the cement shoes on your feet and thrown you into the harbor.”

“No, silly, I’m breathing in squares! My dad taught me how to do it.”

“Your father had to teach you how to breathe? What a surprise. Pity he didn’t put a pillow over your face first.”

I give him a smack on his rock-hard biceps. “Will you listen to me?”

“I am. That’s the problem.”

“Box breathing is something he learned in the Navy. It’s an excellent way to calm your nervous system and focus your mind. Try it. We can do it together.”

“I’d rather be burned alive.”

“Oh, come on! I swear, it works.”

I lift my arms wide and make a big show of inhaling. Declan mutters some kind of voodoo curse. I hold the breath, making googly eyes at him, and he groans. When I exhale, I slowly drop my arms to the silent count in my head. He’s looking at the ceiling, sighing.

“You’re like cancer. Only not as fun.”

I poke him in the chest with a finger. “Just try it. I didn’t think you were the hyperventilating kind, but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

He lowers his head and gazes at me. “For your information, I’m familiar with box breathing.”

That takes the wind out of my sails. “Oh.” We stare at each other for a moment, until I brighten. “See, it worked!”

“What are you blabbering about now?”

“You’re not mad anymore. You calmed down.”

“How did it work? I wasn’t the one doing all the heavy breathing.”

“I know, but watching me do the box breathing calmed you down. That’s how effective it is. It can even work on other people by osmosis!”

He stares at me for a beat, blue eyes feverish with the urge to commit homicide. His voice comes out thick. “I can honestly say, and I mean this with all sincerity, I’ve never met anyone quite like you, lass.”

My smile could blind a man. “You’re welcome. Oh, by the way, I was thinking.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Look at you go with the snappy comebacks! I’m a good influence on you.”

“If this is you being a good influence on me, I should kill myself immediately.”

I wave that off. “I think I figured out why you keep saying I started a war. And you’re wrong.”

He stares at me for a moment. “I have a feeling I should be sitting down for this.”

I gesture to the nearest chair. “Be my guest.”

“You do recall this is my home, correct? You’re my guest.”

“I’ve been upgraded from captive to guest? Cool.”

He scowls. “No. That’s not what I—oh, f**k. Never mind.”

He drops into the chair and sits there like he’s in Death’s waiting room, praying for his number to be called.

I sit across from him and fold my legs underneath me. When he directs his scowl at my folded legs, I simply smile. “As I was saying. This war you keep accusing me of starting. It all began with a dinner at La Cantina in Lake Tahoe, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t respond.