Page 57 of Oh, Hell No

He rubbed the pad of his thumb in a slow caress on my chin. “Then, what is the problem?” he asked, his voice a deep, smooth rumble now.

Talk about a distraction. Lordy, he should charge for this gift. Women around the world would hand over their bank accounts.

“The problem is…” I said, licking my lips.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I tried real hard not to react to that.

Focus. You have a problem. What is it? Oh, right.

“Whoever told the principal that I was pregnant, he, the president of the board, and a female board member all believe this person, even without proof.”

His eyes were back on mine now, and his thumb still rubbed against my skin gently. “And?” he urged.

I shrugged. “And the lie spread through the faculty and staff. Parents will hear the gossip. They’ll be appalled and want me and my loose morals away from their children, et cetera.”

His thumb stopped, and his eyes narrowed again. “Are you saying they fired you? Over a fucking lie?”

“Not yet,” I replied. “My word isn’t good enough. They need proof. I offered to take a pregnancy test today at school while they waited, but that wasn’t okay. Because I could have had an abortion, and guess what. That’s another moral-code breaker in the church.”

The gray of his eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched tightly. He was angry. This made him angry. For me. Okay, that felt good. I was angry too. Having someone to be angry for me—well, that was a vindication. What I was feeling wasn’t wrong. I mean, I knew that, but I needed backup. I would have never guessed this was where that backup would come from. I’d have thought it would be Marley.

Oz being on my side ignited a more powerful emotion.

“What is it they want you to do?” he asked slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“They want me to willingly hand them my medical records,” I explained. “I have nothing to hide, and it will clear this up, but the fact that they are demanding I give up my right to privacy over my body because of a lie that they believe is true is really hard for me to do. I’m having an internal battle.”

Oz shook his head. “No. You’re not giving those motherfuckers shit,” he said as if he was the final answer.

As hot as that was, he wasn’t telling me what to do either. I would be the one to make this decision.

He let go of my chin and looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “Open a bottle of wine, find something for us to watch. I’ll order food. What are you in the mood for? Mexican? Italian? Burgers? Pizza? Please do not say sushi.”

When he continued to stand there, waiting on me to reply, I realized he was serious. He was going to get us food and watch TV with me?

My little moment on the sofa on Monday, where I’d thought about him, sent heat to my face, and I turned away quickly tohide it.

“You don’t have to stay. But I do appreciate the offer,” I replied, walking into the kitchen for some distance and so I couldn’t smell him—because heaven help me, that scent was divine.

“I’m in the mood for wings, so if you don’t choose, that’s what we are eating.”

I stopped a smile that was fighting to tug on my lips. This was…nice. Oz was being nice. Again. He was trying to be there for me during a difficult time. He didn’t want to leave me alone. I felt important. Why couldn’t I enjoy this? He wasn’t the same man who had abducted me. In his defense, my brother had taken four million dollars from him. I’d be mad about that too. He hadn’t killed Perry either. He hadn’t hurt me.

It wasn’t wrong for me to like the idea of having the attention of the hottest man I’d ever seen.

I turned around to look at him. “In that case, Mexican. Wings are too messy and not worth the effort.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Mexican it is. Get the red wine,” he replied.

I was turning to the wine rack, about to tell him I only had white and wishing I still had the fancy bottle Perry had given me when I saw the top of a bottle I didn’t recognize. I slid it out slowly, knowing this had not been here Saturday night. Holding the bottle with both hands, I studied the dark bottle with the burgundy top and gold label.Massetowas written at the top, along with text that I believed was Italian. I felt Oz’s warmth behind me, and the flutters in my stomach were almost enough to distract me from the foreign bottle in my hand.

His arm reached around me, and the hard bulges of his biceps brushed over my bare arm while he took the bottle from me. “Where’s the opener?” he asked, the huskiness in his voice close to my ear.

I blinked and took in a ragged breath. “Um,” I replied. “It’s,uh…” I started to point, but I couldn’t think straight when the man who starred in all my sexual fantasies was that close. It was confusing. So, I moved away toward the correct drawer. It wasn’t until I was opening it that my confusion about this bottle returned to the forefront of my thoughts.

“I didn’t buy that wine,” I told him. “I mean, it…I don’t know where it came from.” It was crazy-sounding, I realized, but it also looked expensive.

He nodded his head toward the drawer behind me. “Whoever did has good taste. I’m not a wine drinker, but I’ll drink this,” he replied. “Opener?”

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