Page 85 of Rescuing Rebel

“What the hell was all that about?” Stitch props her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing as she studies me, expecting an answer.

“With Kaufman?” I respond, casually leaning against the wall, trying to shake the tension that still lingers in the room. “Thought it was pretty obvious. He wants results.”

“I know that, but what was all that?”

“All, what?”

“That macho pissing contest?” She’s not good at hiding her irritation.

“It’s a guy thing.” I shrug, dismissing her question as trivial. I sigh, pushing away from the wall.

“A guy thing? Seriously? That’s your explanation?” Her voice rises, and it’s clear she’s not going to let this go.

“When two men have a disagreement, they don’t exactly sit down with tea and crumpets to discuss their feelings.”

“Are you saying women do?” Her eyes narrow further.

I shrug, playing it cool. “I’m not saying anything about women. I’m explaining how men communicate. Sometimes, words are unnecessary. A glance, a gesture, a posture—it all conveys meaning. Men understand each other that way. It’s primal, instinctual.” I keep my tone patronizing, knowing it will get under her skin.

“Primal, huh? Like cavemen grunting at each other?” Stitch crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed.

“Exactly,” I exclaim, feeling like I’m making progress. “Like cavemen. It’s a way to establish dominance, to feel each other out without having to say a word.”

“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. You’re telling me that grown men can’t have a civil conversation without resorting to caveman tactics?”

“It’s not that simple.”

She’s not buying it.

“And did you establish dominance with Kaufman?” Stitch’s lips twitch, fighting a smile.

“Of course.” I puff out my chest, then laugh at her irritation. “Okay, maybe not dominance, but I let him know I’m not backing down. That’s important. That’s how men negotiate.”

She shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You men and your games. You do realize it’s all a little ridiculous, right?”

“Maybe to you.” I give her a wink. “But it works for us.”

Stitch rolls her eyes, but I see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you say, Charlie-One.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Men.” She snorts, shaking her head, her eyes gleaming with something that looks suspiciously like amusement. “Always trying to out-macho each other. Puffing chests, flashing glares. You might as well whip out a ruler and measure.”

“I’d win,” I counter, grinning, knowing full well the direction she’s taking the conversation. I laugh, feeling the tension lift. “Trust me, it’s all under control.”

“Is it?” Her eyes meet mine, a knowing glint in them. “Is it reallyall under control, Charlie-One?” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “All that macho bullshit isn’t about dominance. The two of you are fighting over a woman.”

“What?” I feign innocence, though I feel a small knot of apprehension in my stomach.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Her gaze narrows, probing, searching.

“That’s not what that was about.”

“You saw her again, didn’t you?” She jabs a finger at me.

“I can’t avoid a chance encounter.”

“You kissed her, didn’t you?”

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