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The next thing happened very fast. Kieran grabbed me by the waist and the back of my neck, mumbled shit, and tipped me down so my hair nearly touched the ground. He pressed his lips to mine, and my heart stopped in my chest. Panic clawed through my flesh, and I felt like four invisible walls were closing in on me.
“Motherfucker.”
He is touching me.
This man is touching me.
My mouth fell open, the beginning of a scream making its way up my throat. But before I could yelp for help, Row was pulling me upright to stand on my feet and shoving me into his sister’s arms.
In a flash, Kieran was flushed against the back of a food truck. Blood gushing from his nose. Row had murder in his eyes, and I didn’t know if it was because he knew I was scared of men, he was jealous, or both.
Kieran tipped his head back, chuckling. He didn’t bother wiping his nose, even though his designer coat was marred red. “You’re welcome, asshat.”
“Welcome?” Row seethed, balling Kieran’s shirt, pressing his nose to Kieran’s, pupils dancing in fury. “I’m about to give you your farewell, and you’re telling me I’m welcome?”
“Jesus Christ!” Dylan dumped me on the plastic chair I’d brought for her. She thundered toward the two men, shooing Row away like he was an aggressive duck trying to steal a sandwich. Row retreated, probably because he didn’t want to take any chances with his heavily pregnant sister. She plucked a handkerchief from her purse and pressed it to Kieran’s nose, tipping his head back and brushing his hair away from his face. “I’m so, so sorry. My brother is a world-class idiot and I’m probably going to write a tell-all and throw him under the bus after this.”
“Don’t forget to mention that time he sold weed on school grounds and got suspended for two weeks.” Kieran grinned down at her, towering over my friend, who normally dwarfed all men other than her brother. He clasped a lock of onyx hair that fell across her eyes, rubbed it between his fingers, then slowly curled it around her ear. They both ceased to breathe, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating the entire thing.
“Not done with your ass by a long shot.” Row pointed at him, his cheeks ablaze. He took advantage of Dylan stepping aside and balled the collar of Kieran’s shirt, bringing him closer. Everybody was staring, inching toward us. This didn’t bode well for Kieran’s quest for privacy. Our pineapple pizzas had been discarded on the ground.
Row raised his finger in warning, his nose almost touching Kieran’s. “Now you listen carefully, pretty boy. If I see your ass—let alone your lips—anywhere near Cal, I—”
“You what?” Kieran snarled in his face cockily. Kieran might know how to play the good-guy role these days, but he still had that villainous spark. “She is just your employee, right?” Kieran tilted his head sideways, popping a toothpick into his mouth. “Running partner, maybe. Any other titles that I’m missing?”
“Let him go right this minute,” Dylan demanded, wiggling a finger at Row. “Or I will strangle you with all the wrath of a woman who has not seen her knees in five months.”
“Ambrose!” Zeta gasped from the depths of the crowd, shouldering the throng as she made her way to us. She pushed through curious bystanders. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Making a headline we both don’t need,” Kieran answered indifferently, staring Row down.
Finally, I snapped out of the weird haze Kieran’s kiss had put me in and stood up, stepping between the two men. I blocked Row’s way to Kieran, giving his chest a push. “Don’t you dare go anywhere near him,” I seethed.
Movies and books had taught me that this was the part where Row would soften, explain himself, calm down. False advertisement. In reality, he stared at me like I had betrayed him. Up close now, I could read his face. The words written across it, in invisible scars.
Pain.
Damage.
Despair.
Distrust.
Distrust.
Distrust.
The edges of his snakeskin eyes turned scarlet, his jawline tensed, and he was panting like a wounded beast.
“Ambie?” Allison purred behind my back, brushing past me as though I were air. To her, I probably was. “Are you coming?”
But he ignored her completely, shoulder-tackling my midriff and hoisting me over his shoulder. “Privacy,” he clipped out shortly, pushing through the crowd as he made his way up the street and toward an alleyway between Dahlia’s Diner and an auto shop. “Showtime’s over.”
“Put me down before I destroy the crown jewels.” I thrust my legs desperately, trying to get to his groin while raining my fists on his back and shoulders.
“That would be on brand. You seem to destroy every other fucking thing in my life.” He put me down carefully, my back pushed against a redbrick building. His mouth was twisted into a scowl. We stared at each other, panting. I wasn’t going to say something first. Not because I didn’t have anything to say—I did, and the words were plentiful—but because I wasn’t sure if I was touched by his concern for my phobias or enraged by his uncalled-for possessiveness. My ancestors had not burned bras on the street so he could treat me like a prize he could knock over the head and drag into his cave for a good time.
“You know, it’s my fault.” He sucked his teeth.
