“Oh, so you invited him because I said no? Is that the way you operate?”
“I don’t operate any way,” I said, shoving him back as I hopped off the counter. But I didn’t get far. He gripped my arm and spun me around, caging me against the counter.
“Why would you let him into your house?”
“My mother invited him over,” I hissed. “It’s not like he’s someone I would have voluntarily allowed into my house.”
“Then why didn’t you kick him out?”
“Because, unlike other people in this town, my parents believe that no one is guilty unless there’s proof. So, my mother saw John and didn’t want him to be alone. Which meant inviting his whole family!”
“And you just couldn’t say no?”
Scoffing, I walked away from him and started cleaning up the mess. My hand was throbbing, but that was the least of my worries right now. I had a door that was broken, dishes scattered all over, and enough food to feed an army. The problem was that half of it was on the floor, and the rest of it was spoiling on the table. I didn’t have the room in my fridge to keep all this food.
“Would you just sit down?” Sam growled.
“No,” I snapped, spinning to face him. “I have to clean up. I have to find a new freaking door at six o’clock at night on Thanksgiving, and I have a gigantic mess of food and dishes to get cleaned up. So, no. I will not just sit down!”
“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he snarled.
“And you’re an ass,” I snapped.
“An ass? I’m trying to help.”
“On your own terms.”
His eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I took a step toward him, even more pissed off than before. “It means that when I asked you to come over, you were too concerned about anyone knowing about us. But then you snuck over here and had everything to say about who was in my house.”
“Because Austin is fucking crazy!”
“I know that! I’m not stupid enough to let a man like that into my house if I can help it!”
“Yet you did. You could have told your mother no.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “I could have, and then she would have had to rescind the invitation.”
He scoffed, shaking his head at me. “You know your problem? You’re so fucking worried about civility that you allowed a fucking psychopath into your house. God forbid you offend anyone. He could have fucking killed you!”
“I was with everyone else in here!”
“At all times?” he asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
I remembered opening my door to him standing right outside my bedroom. My skin crawled as I thought back to him peering inside my room. Or the lewd comments he made at dinner.
“You weren’t,” he said quietly. “Tell me what he fucking did.”
“He didn’t do anything,” I said, shoving past him.
But I didn’t get far before he grabbed my arm again, tugging me back to his chest. When his arm banded around my back, I had few moves I could make to escape his clutch.
Not that I really wanted to, which still grated on my nerves.
His skin vibrated under my touch, luring me back into a situation I knew I would never be able to escape. Not if my body kept reacting like this.
“Tell me what he did, Cass.” His voice rumbled low in his chest, making my knees weaken with every word. I was helpless to stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth.
