Page 55 of Tackle

All she wanted was to go home, take a long hot bath, and nurse her ill temper, not have a conversation with Oz. That had been why she’d left. She wanted to ponder her feelings and dissect them before hashing things out with Oz. It was how she worked when she was mad, she liked time to think. What she didn’t like was being ambushed.

But it seemed Oz had other ideas in mind.

She hit the Bluetooth-phone button on her steering wheel and said, “Call Oz.” Ringing blared through her car speakers and she hurried to turn the volume down on her radio.

The call went to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message.

Turning into her complex, she pulled into her assigned spot and got out, slamming her car door. Oz was already out of his car and waiting for her when she crossed the pavement to the sidewalk.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” she said by way of greeting.

“Because you would have told me to turn around and go home.”

Fair enough.

She stepped around him and headed for the stairs.

He captured her arm as her foot landed on the first step. “You wanna tell me what the problem is?”

“I told you already. I don’t feel well and want to lie down.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Now, you wanna tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“No. Which is a hint you should’ve gotten by now.” He didn’t have a forceful hold on her so it wasn’t hard to pull away and continue up the stairs, reaching into her purse for her keys, Oz hot on her heels.

She got to her door but didn’t open it, instead crossing her arms over her chest.

Oz didn’t bother to ask her what was wrong again. He just plucked the keys from her fingers and opened her door. With nothing left to do—she couldn’t even escape back to her car because he had her keys—she followed him in, closing the door. She tossed her purse on the coffee table but didn’t sit down.

Neither did Oz.

He stood with his back to the living room windows, the late afternoon sun catching the golden highlights in his hair, making it shine. His stance was casual with his hands jammed into his front pockets, but his brow was lowered and his jaw was clenched. Emerson had never seen Oz angry, but she had a feeling she was witnessing it now.

Fine. If he wanted to hash it out. So be it.

“Is that how you behave when you’re on the road?”

His lowered brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

She folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “Do I need to worry about some groupie fondling you and you just letting them?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh really? Because that’s not how it looked earlier.”

“She took me by surprise.”

Oh, no, buddy, that wasn’t going to fly. “You used that same excuse last time. I let it slide then, but you knew what this woman was capable of. You’d already dealt with her once.”

His hands flew out to his sides. “I figured the fastest way to make her leave was giving her the picture she wanted. I had no idea she was going to kiss me.Thatwas the surprise.”

“Yet you let her get that close to you. Again. And then I have to be the one to threaten her with the cops, while you said nothing.”

He gestured toward her with his hand. “You were right there saying it for both of us.”

A fresh swell of anger rushed through her. “Are you saying I overstepped my bounds?”

His head tipped back and he rolled his shoulders before his eyes landed directly on her again. His words came out even but the tone was deep, gritted, and punctuated through his teeth. “No. I meant exactly what I said. If you hadn’t said something, I would have.”

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