Page 139 of Property of Whiskey

She’s pissed.

And I like pissed-off Twila way too much.

“She ain’t coming back here.”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t want her.”

“I don’t care.”

She hugs herself, which would be more convincing if she wasn’t glaring at the door Beth just walked through.

“Don’t love her.”

“I said I don’t care.”

“You keep answering awful fast.”

She shoves my chest.

“There. You feel better?”

“No.”

She shoves me again.

I catch both wrists, but the second she stops pushing, I release them.

Twila looks up at me.

“This ain’t about Beth.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What’s it about?”

“You.”

Her anger falters.

I leave my hands at my sides.

“You’re standing in my house half dressed, pissed off another woman touched me, after hiding from your own daddy instead of going home.”

Her chin lifts. “You kidnapped me.”

“Yeah.”

“You lied to me.”

“About what?”

“Plenty.”

“Probably.”