Before I have a chance to respond, fury leaps into her espresso-colored eyes as she takes a step toward me, invading my personal space. With her this close, the scent of her floral shampoo swirls slyly around me, teasing my senses. It’s a battle not to lay my hands on her and drag her to me. To kiss her the way I did a week ago. It’s all I can think about as my attention drops to the angry slash of her mouth.
She rams a finger into my chest. “And even if something were going on, it’s none of your business.”
The fuck it is!
A potent concoction of rage-infused jealousy rushes through my veins as she swings away and stalks toward the door before shoving against the glass and stepping over the threshold without another glance in my direction.
I gape at her retreating form, unsure what to do. As soon as the door slams shut behind her, I wake from the strange paralysis that has taken hold.
Did that really happen?
Has Elle ever gotten in my face? Or talked to me with so much pent-up fury?
Nope. She’s always stared at me with adoration. If that girl thinks this conversation is over, she couldn’t be more wrong. Spurred into action, I beeline for the exit. People scurry out of my way with their drinks in hand as I barrel through like a locomotive. A few call out greetings, but I don’t bother returning them. All I can think about is Elle.
She’s wrong about this not being any of my concern. Whether she realizes it or not, anything that happens with her is my business.
Once outside, I scour the walkway until my gaze fastens on her retreating form. Her spine is ramrod straight as she blows through the crowd. And then I’m off, closing the distance between us. Just like in the coffee shop, people see me coming and scramble out of my way. No one wants to get run over this early in the morning. The moment I’m within striking distance, my fingers wrap around her arm. Shock transforms her expression, and she gasps at my sudden arrival on the scene as I maneuver her off the crowded pathway and out of student traffic.
Elle stares at me like she has no idea who the hell I am, and I’ll admit—at this particular moment—I’m not quite sure either. All I know is that I don’t want her around that guy. Maybe she doesn’t see the desire in his eyes, but I do.
“The hell it isn’t my business!” I growl, responding belatedly to the last comment she threw at me in the Roasted Bean before stomping away, leaving me to hold my dick in my hand.
The flare of surprise that had leapt to life in her eyes swiftly dissipates as irritation and resentment overtake her expression. “And why is that?” she challenges, attempting to wrench her arm free with a soft grunt.
But there is no way I’m allowing that to happen. If anything, I haul her closer. We’re going to hash this out here and now. When my grip tightens, she bares her teeth and growls. For a second time, I’m bowled over that all of this rage is directed at me. We’ve always had an easy-going relationship.
Until now.
At the moment, there’s nothing effortless about it. Instead, it feels explosive. Like a powder keg that could detonate with one wrong move or misplaced breath.
I stare silently, unsure how to respond. What I can’t do is reveal the truth. It takes a few heartbeats to wrangle myself under control and moderate my voice. “Because I care about you and don’t want to see you get hurt.” That’s as close to the truth as I can get without crossing the line and giving myself away.
Her brows rise across her forehead. “You...care about me?” There’s a pause as the energy crackling in the air ratchets up. She drops her chin but continues to hold my gaze. “Like a sister?”
I force down the thick lump of sawdust that has wedged itself in the middle of my throat, making it impossible to breathe. I should force out the lie and be done with it.
But I can’t. That’s not how I feel about Elle, and the words refuse to budge from my lips.
When I fail to respond, the high color in her cheeks drains away and she growls, “I already have one overprotective brother. I don’t need another. Got it?”
God dammit.
This conversation isn’t going the way I expected it to. Instead of smoothing over our strained relationship, all I’ve done is blow it further out of the water.
“Elle...” Desperation creeps into my tone as my mind cartwheels. Normally, I can assess a situation in a matter of seconds and think swiftly on my feet. It’s what makes me invaluable at my position on the field. In this instance however, it’s like my brain has taken a temporary hiatus and I have no idea how to reel this interaction in again.