Page 60 of Off-Limits Bad Boy

“And he handled that rejection so well,” I say, remembering him showing up on her doorstep.

I glance at her, watching the pieces fall into place for her as a mixture of relief and brewing anger fill her features. “Damn him,” she whispers, furious tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Hey,” I reach over, placing my hand on hers, feeling that ever-present static charge that jumps between us with every touch. “It’ll be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“He might not be by the time I’m done with him,” she says under her breath, and I hold back a smile at her feistiness. “We’re going to his house,” she says, rattling off the address as I turn over the engine and back out of the parking spot.

The drive is made in silence, and I sense her seething as the seconds tick by. “This is just like him,” she whispers. “Trying to manipulate his way back into my life. So he can be the freaking hero. What a loser.” Her rage only seems to be growing and I almost feel bad for Ryan. Almost.

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way,” I say, trying not to fan the flames of her anger.

“He made me doubt you.” She glances at me. “How are you not furious? Her hands ball into fists. “How can you not want to just wrap your hands around his throat and-” She gives a violent back and forth shake of her hands, and I wonder if she should take some time to cool off before we visit Ryan.

“Look, I don’t want to have to bail you out today-”

“I’ll behave myself.” Her bitter tone worries me, but I trust her.

Ten minutes disappear as the hum of the engine becomes the only noise between us. Gravel crunches under the tires as we pull up to Ryan's house. He's there, all grease and muscle, a vision of an all-American man as he works under the hood of an old truck.

But it’s all bullshit, and we know it.

Before I can put the car in park, Emma’s already gone, the door closing behind her. Her stride is long, furious as she crosses the driveway toward him.

I get out, ready to watch things unfold and step in if I need to. Emma wants this to be her fight; I can sense that. But I’m here if she needs me, just like I said I would be.

Ryan watches her approach, his expression amused as he wipes away the black grease on his hands with an oil-stained rag. He stands tall, as if to intimidate her with size, but she’s not afraid of him. Hell, I’d be more afraid of her right now, but I’m not an idiot.

“Hey, Em—”

But Emma doesn’t even let him finish as she shoves the envelope against his chest. “Next time, do your own dirty work,” she says, fury rolling like thunder in her words. “Explain this, now.”

I move closer, wanting to be there if anything were to change. Neither of them so much as look at me, then he seems to decide he has a death wish. “Just settle down and we’ll get this whole thing sorted out,” he says, playing dumb, but we all know better.

I mean, he is dumb, but he knows exactly what she means.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she says, and I wonder how she was ever friends with this jerk. He must have been really good at hiding who he really was.

“Emma, what's this about?” He sounds every bit the loving, concerned friend.

“Cut the crap, Ryan.”

He glances at me. “Sheesh, someone is a little emotional.” Then he focuses on her again. “I swear, I don't know what you're talking about,” he says.

“Ryan,” Emma's voice is all steel and warnings. Her fury is obvious in her eyes, and her fists clench at her sides as she glares at him. “I know what you did.” She’s not yelling - she’s deadly calm and dangerous.

“Emma,” he says, a condescending edge to his voice. “I think you might be overreacting.”

“Huh,” she says, then shakes her head. “No, that doesn't check out. We all know you don’t think.”

He chuckles. “Put the claws away, kitten. This is a safe space.” He draws a circle around us with one fingertip and arches an infuriating eyebrow at her.

“Look, Ryan,” I say, spreading my hands apart. “Emma is amazing, but this? Spreading lies, playing dirty tricks? That's not going to make her choose you.”

His eyes narrow into a silent challenge.

But Emma isn't backing down—not now, not ever. “Fine, Ryan. I tried talking to you. I’m done.” With that, she storms off across the lawn, up the steps to his porch, and disappears into the house before I can stop her.

“Does she think she’s going to find proof?” he asks, crossing his arms, but I sense worry in his stance.

---