Page 10 of Tangled Up

“I mean…you look like a child. Like you should have a pocket protector.”

She was lying. I could tell from the way her attention snagged on my chest, where I knew the snug button-down fit me just right. And I’dbe lying if I said I didn’t work out for this exact reason. For this exact moment.

With her angry gaze on me.

And that knife in my side shifted a few inches, to the center, hitting right under my breastbone.

“I left it at my math club meeting,” I said. “What about you? I’m surprised you even shave. I thought you nature fanatics didn’t do that.”

“I’m a vegan and an environmentalist. Whether I choose to shave or not is my choice, not society’s. And certainly not because some guy decided it was sexy or not.” She aimed her words at me like darts. “Especially you.”

“Especially me?” I repeated, but she twirled away, toward the kitchen.

I didn’t know what exactly it was about me that pissed Gemma off so much. When Caroline introduced us, Gemma had barely met my eyes for 0.2 seconds before she’d judged me. Even as we shook hands, her fingers small and delicate in mine, exchanging what felt like static electricity so the hairs on my arm rose, she had still pouted, all huffy and harsh-eyed. We exchanged a few words, and I’m man enough to admit it was partially my fault for instigating it at some points. But she put me on the defensive.

And I evidently had some new masochistic streak keeping me firmly planted in her apartment.

I watched as she let her hair down, brown and golden strands blending together to create an almost copper color that couldn’t quite decide if it was curly or straight or something in between. She ran her fingers through it—strangely enough, something I wanted to do too—before feeding a goldfish that swam back and forth in a small bowl on the kitchen counter. Next, she grabbed a banana out of a hanging fruit basket and tossed the peel into a bucket piled up with garbage by the sink.

I leaned against the archway of the kitchen. “What’s that?”

“A compost pile.”

“You’re a vegan, and you have a compost heap?”

“Yeah,” she snipped with a glance over her shoulder. Her tank top fluttered with the movement, the outer curve of her breast peeking from the side—of course she wouldn’t wear a bra—and I forced my gaze to the floor so I wouldn’t stare. “I have to make up for the huge carbon footprint you’re leaving.”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating meat.”

“Except for the fact that those animals are given chemicals from birth to make them grow much bigger than they’re supposed to be, kept in cages and pens too small so they become sick and overcrowded, and then, finally, slaughtered in the most inhumane manner possible.”

I lifted my head in time to see her break the banana in half, giving some to a turtle that crawled around a terrarium in the space where the microwave should be above the stove. The other half, Gemma ate.

I could not believe her.

I couldn’t believe she was the daughter of the stately Caroline. I couldn’t believe she lived like this, that she did and said whatever the hell she wanted, and that she rode a bicycle, for Christ’s sake.

I couldn’t believe how goddamn attracted I was to her.

“Thanks for dropping me off and everything.” Gemma’s voice lifted my focus from the curve of her ass in her tight skirt, my self-control long gone. “But I have to get up early tomorrow, so if you will…” She pivoted around and ushered me to the front of her apartment.

“I have one question.”

“What?”

I stood in her open doorway, facing her. “What’s your deal with this wedding?”

She drooped against the doorframe. “What’re you talking about?”

“Frank’s like a father to me, and I want him to be happy. You, on the other hand, are practically foaming at the mouth over these nuptials.”

“You have a real way with words.”

I quirked a brow at her. Immature as it was, I really,reallyenjoyed getting a rise out of her.

“Not that I should have to explain myself to you,” she said, dragging her hair over her shoulder to play with a few ends. “But I’m cynical about my mother’s marriages.”

“You don’t say.” When she sneered at me, I grinned down at her. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, completely insincere. “Go on.”

---