Page 25 of Off-Limits Bad Boy

“Sometimes your laugh sounds like a choking hyena.”

She stares at me for a second, then throws her head back and laughs.

Relief floods me. “See? I’m a total jerk.”

“I guess. Mission accomplished.”

As the shadows grow longer and the air cools, we make our way to the exit. She pauses, turning to me with a softness in her eyes that worries me.

“Today was perfect. Exactly what I needed to take my mind off Ryan. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Em.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, fighting the surge of protectiveness that swells in my chest.

The car ride home is quieter, the sort of silence that wraps around us like a comfortable blanket. I sense she’s processing her day, reliving memories, and thinking about how much fun she had. I’m hoping she’s not wasting a single second on Ryan.

The last streaks of sunlight paint Emma's face in shades of gold and rose, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and place my hand on her thigh.

“Thank you,” she whispers again, breaking the stillness as we pull up to her place. “Today was... it was exactly what I needed.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me. Besides, I was doing Alex a favor, too.” I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.

“What?” She seems confused.

“Alex asked me to get you out of the house.”

Her eyebrows knit together, a small crease forming on her forehead. “Why would he want to do that?”

“So he could set up a security system for you.”

She pulls back, and I can see the hurt flash through her eyes before she shields it with anger. “And you just went along with it? Without telling me?”

I can feel her pulling away, and it's like watching the last piece of something precious slip through my fingers. “I didn't think—”

“Right. You didn't think.” The sharp edge in her voice cuts deeper than I'd like to admit.

The car stops, and we sit there, the engine idling, tension growing between us. I don't want to apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong, and this was to protect her, so what now?

“Emma, listen—”

But she's already unbuckling her seatbelt, pushing the door open. “Don't bother coming up.”

“Em, come on—” I say, but it's too late. She's out of the car, slamming the door behind her with a finality that feels like a kick to the dick.

I watch her storm up the path to her front door, her shoulders tight with barely contained fury. And then Alex pops out of her doorway, his face etched with concern as they talk.

I can’t hear their words, but I see her anger in her stance and know she’s not listening to him, either.

She brushes past him into the safety of her apartment. Alex turns to look at me, his expression a mix of confusion and helplessness. He shrugs, and it's a silent admission that neither of us expected her to react this way.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. Somehow I’ve managed to screw things up without even trying.

Alex strides toward my car and yanks open the passenger door. As he slides into Emma's still-warm seat, I catch the scent of her that lingers.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice rough around the edges.

The word hangs between us.

I nod, keeping my eyes on her front door, wondering if she’s peeking at us from behind the curtains. “Anytime,” I say, unsure if I mean it.

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