Clay recovers quickly, putting on a careless smirk. “How about you don’t speak for the girl?”
“How about you don’t touch the woman when she tells you she doesn’t want you to touch her?”
“Oh, fuck off. Like you haven’t been touching her when it’s only the two of you here,” Clay sneers. “Soyoucan hook up with her, but no one else can—”
Before he can finish, Wyatt slams him against the wall. I dart out of the way, panic flying up my throat as Clay’s back collides with the picture he was admiring. The frame slides off the wall and clatters down the staircase, stopping halfway. Wyatt doesn’t pay it any attention. He’s busy restraining Clay by the collar, his forearm pressed on the guy’s throat.
Speaking in a cold, deadly voice I’ve never heard from him, he says, “It’s time for you to get the hell out of my house.”
When Clay struggles against the hold, Wyatt jams his arm deeper into his windpipe.
“I’m sorry, what was that? You were agreeing with me that it’s time for you to go?”
Clay’s eyes start watering as he gasps for air.
“Wyatt,” I murmur, and he releases Clay in a heartbeat, as if controlled by that one soft syllable.
The other guy coughs, clutching his throat. “You’re a fuckingpsycho, dude.”
Macho man that he is, Clay elbows Wyatt as he stomps toward the stairs. Then he doubles down on douchery by kicking the fallen photograph and sending it skittering. The frame hadn’t broken during the initial fall. Now it does, shattering to pieces at the bottom of the staircase.
I press my lips together, then glance at Wyatt. “Let me talk to Annaliese. You stay up here and calm down.”
Jaw tight, he stalks toward the bedrooms.
Downstairs, I find the three guys loitering near the back doors while Annaliese gathers the empty bottles from the table.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
At the sound of my voice, she abandons the bottles. “Clay said Wyatt attacked him?” she exclaims.
“No. Wyatt was defending me,” I say stiffly, shooting a glare in Clay’s direction. He glares back, unrepentant.
Her eyes widen. “Defending you?” Nowsheturns to glare at him. “What the hell did you do, Clayton?”
“Nothing,” says the surly-faced guy. “Just didn’t realize we were hanging out with a cocktease.”
“Cocktease?” Annaliese roars. “Don’t make me smack you upside the head!”
I hide a smile. “It’s fine,” I assure the angry woman. “Just a little misunderstanding. Clay thought we were vibing, but we weren’t.” I flick my eyes at him. “Right, Clay?”
After a beat, he mutters, “Right.”
The other two boys wear apologetic expressions as they say goodbye to me. Kuri thanks me for a great day, which, honestly, it sort of was before Clay decided to ruin it with his creepiness.
Annaliese waits until the three guys are outside before turning to mewith a sigh. “I’m sorry about Clay. He gets a bit aggro when he’s drunk.”
“Clearly.”
“I hope he didn’t go too far.”
“No. Just went in for a kiss. Wyatt probably overreacted.”
Her lips twitch.
“What?” I say.
“He didn’t overreact, Logan. He was marking his territory.”
