At least he hoped to hell not.
“Because I see something that you don’t want me to.”
He shifted his arms and put her on her feet. He needed the distance.
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t get all cantankerous on me.”
“It’s the way I am,” he said, walking away.
She reached out to grab his arm. The move surprised him enough to stop, even though there was no force behind it.
“No,” she said. “You want me to think it. You want to push me away. To hurt me. Or hurt me enough that I’m scared to be around you.”
Fuck.
He didn’t want her to fear him.
Nor did he want to hurt her.
Hell, half the time he was saving her from hurting herself.
But he didn’t want her emotions.
He didn’t want to feel something for her when he knew he couldn’t have her.
It’d never work.
She was his younger sister’s friend.
The complete opposite of him.
He had too many demons he couldn’t battle and he’d never let them seep onto someone else.
“I don’t want to hurt or scare you.”
“But you want to push me away,” she said, lifting her chin.
She sure was a stubborn one.
There was no reason to answer that.
She dropped her arm and he went back behind the bar and checked on the taps, the register, and emptied the cash, stuffed it in the deposit bag and slapped it on the bar top with more force than necessary.
“We’re done here,” he said. “You can go.”
She laughed, her head shaking this time. Just a slight one, but he caught it.
“That’s your way to end this conversation rather than face it head-on. I didn’t think you were that much of a coward.”
“You think you can push my buttons?” he asked, stalking toward her, stopping right in her personal space.
He was looking down at her. He had a solid foot over her five-foot-three-inch frame. More than a hundred pounds on top of it.
“Looks like I’m doing it.”
He pursed his lips together. “You can’t handle me.”
