“It was not just a kiss, Grayson. It was you losing your fucking mind on a football field because some college boys were flirty with me,afteryou’ve already kissed me once before, andafteryou were the one who said we need to keep things professional. Twice.” I step forward and jab a finger toward his chest. “You do not get to act like I’m somehow the problem just because I’m confused and rattled by your constant Jekyll-and-Hyde bullshit.”
Something flickers in his face, but I can’t quite make it out. Irritation, maybe, or guilt, or both.He pushes a hand through his hair, clearly trying to shake it. “You were being too friendly with them.”
“Excuse me?”
He takes a step toward me, voice dropping lower. “You heard me.”
“You’re right, I heard the words. I’m just trying to figure out how your brain decided that was something you could say out loud without embarrassment.”
His eyes narrow.
I can feel my own temper climbing, pulsing through my veins like hot oil. “I was answering questions about clothes I designed. I was doing my job. I was talking in public the way I thought you might want me to as an employee. So sorry I didn’t get the memo that I needed to act like a nun in front of the people who buy your products.”
He purses his lips. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It is exactly what you’re saying.”
“No.” He takes another step toward me, bending my finger back with his chest until I take it away. “I’m saying you’re like that with everyone else.”
My brows knit, my brain spinning a hundred different versions of what he could possibly mean. “Like what?”
“Open. Easy. Friendly.” He laughs, short and humorless, like he’s the one who has any right to be angry. “With me, you’re standoffish as hell.”
That catches me off guard enough that I go still.“What?”
He gestures between us, frustrated now, like I’m missing something obvious. “You smiled at them. You talked to them. You relaxed around them. But with me? You get tight, careful,curling in on yourself like you’re one wrong move away from biting me.”
I gape at him. “Have you considered that maybe that’s because you are wildly inconsistent?”
“Haveyouconsidered that maybe I don’t know what to do with you when you act like every other man gets the easy version and I get the one that looks like she’s bracing for impact?”
The hallway goes dead quiet. My heart pounds against my chest, butI lift my chin, refusing to back down. “Maybe you get that version because you keep kissing me and then acting like it was a clerical error.”
His eyes widen.“I kissed you because you were laughing with a bunch of idiot college kids and I wanted to drag you out of there before one of them tried his luck,” he rasps.
My pulse pounds hard behind my eyes, in my neck. What thefuck. “That’s insane,” I say.“You don’t own me.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
His jaw clenches. “Carly?—”
“No. You don’t get to snap at boys for talking to me, grab my face and kiss me on the field, then come home and act likeI’msomehow the one with an attitude problem!”
His nostrils flare as he takes a final step toward me. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Apparently, you don’t!”
We’re too close now.That always seems to be the problem with us.
He’s breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling just a couple of inches from mine, his jaw flexing like he’s grinding his teeth.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
“What?”
He shakes his head, looking back toward his office. “Nothing I say right now is going to improve this.”
