Despite the cool water covering my skin, I felt my cheeks flush. “Can it,” I said, pulling myself out of the water. Self-consciously, I wrapped a towel around my middle. “What are you doing out here?”

“Watching you.” His eyes roved to my midriff as if to illustrate the point.

The flush kicked up a notch, and I tugged my towel higher. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” he argued. “There’s a reason Felix hired me. So, next time you leave the house, ask me first, okay?”

“No.” I felt my chin tilt up a notch.

Cal’s left eyebrow hitched in response. “No?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. A slightly childish gesture, I’ll admit. But the truth was, I was tired of being bullied. By Felix, by Allie, by Cal, by the freak show who was threatening me. Even Pines was ordering me to buy him porn! I wanted some say in my own life again. And I was taking it.

Even if it was with childish defiance.

“No. I don’t need your permission to live my life, Cal.”

Cal rolled his eyes. “Bender—”

But I wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“I’m sick and tired of being treated like I can’t take care of myself, like I can’t think for myself. I know you think I’m some ridiculous little chick—”

“That’s not true.”

“—but I got along fine on my own before you came along, and I’ll get along fine well after your taillights fade into the distance. I can handle this. So you can quit ordering me around like I’m your German shepherd or something. ‘Sit, stay, beg to leave the house.’”

“I know this arrangement wasn’t your idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. And I’m sick and tired of people thinking they know what’s best for me.”

“Maybe we do know what’s best for you. Look, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared by all this—”

“I’m not scared!” I protested.

“Well, I am,” he shouted back.

Which shocked me into silence. Looking at his compact build, sleek reflexes, gun bulging from his jeans (at least, I’m pretty sure that bulge was a gun…) I couldn’t imagine Cal being scared of anything.

“You are?” I asked quietly.

He took a step closer. Instinctively, I tried to take one back, calves coming up against the side of the lounge chair.

“Yes, I am. You’re reckless. You’re dishonest. You’re stubborn. You make enemies wherever you go.”

“Gee, way to flatter a girl.”

“You’re also vulnerable. Alone. And too smart for your own good.”

I swallowed, suddenly having to concentrate on the most automatic of body movements.

“I’m scared something’s going to happen to you,” he said, his voice low. Intimate. Close.