Michael picked that exact moment to walk into the kitchen.
Kaleb pulled away from me quickly, going back to the sauté pan as if nothing happened. Michael’s face was completely unreadable. I wondered for a second if he saw anything. Or cared if he had.
“Emerson?” His voice was empty of emotion. Too empty.
“Yes,” I answered, sliding down from the counter. I almost fell when my feet hit the ground, and would have if Kaleb hadn’t caught me by the arm.
“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.
“Weak in the knees?” Michael asked.
He’d definitely seen it.
I smoothed down my hair and adjusted my tank top. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”
“Cat’s not here. I went to see her at the lab, and we need to reschedule for tomorrow morning. I wanted to talk to you about our … discussion yesterday, but it looks like you’ve found other ways to amuse yourself.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.
“Something’s up.” Kaleb’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. “His emotions are all over—I think I should go talk to him—”
“No, let me.” I put my hand on Kaleb’s arm. “You guys have been fighting enough as it is. And I need to settle this.”
Chapter 37
Michael.”
He was walking out the front door when I caught up to him. I followed him outside. “Where are you going? I thought you wanted to talk.”
“Didn’t know how long you’d be.” He stalked across the wide planked porch, the boards hollow sounding under his weight. “Thought I’d let you finish up.”
“Wait!” I reached out, catching the edge of his sleeve. He flinched as I accidentally brushed his skin with my fingers. “We were done. I was done. We weren’t doing—”
He jerked his arm free and started down the steps. “What the hell were you thinking, kissing Kaleb?”
“I wasn’t kissing Kaleb!”
“I just saw you in the kitchen with him,” he said, spinning around after two steps. “And you were kissing.”
I tried to explain. “It wasn’t like that—”
“It never is.” He crossed his arms and managed to look superior. “Isn’t that the excuse everyone gives when they get caught?”
“Get caught? You say that like I was doing something wrong.” I threw the next words out defensively, wanting to wipe away his smirk. “Why do you even care?”
“I only want you to … forget it,” he said, turning away.
I put both hands on his left shoulder, yanking him around so I could yell in his face. “No, you don’t, Michael Weaver. You don’t get to unload on me and then reel it all back in without telling me why.”
“You can do whatever you want,” he said, his voice cold and distant, shutting me down. Shutting me out. “I don’t have a right to an opinion.”
I still wanted him to have one. And vocalize it. Fighting the urge to push him, I attempted to push his buttons instead. “Kaleb did try to kiss me,” I said, sounding like a taunting bully on a playground.
Michael flinched as if my hand had actually connected with his cheek. “Looked like he succeeded to me.”
Bingo.
“He stopped.” I stood as close to him as I dared. “You want to know why?”