“Jax—”

He clasped my hand, pulling me the rest of the way out from behind the bar. “Not right now.”

It took a lot in me, but I clamped my mouth shut as he led me back down the hall, toward the office. Opening the door, he hauled me inside, and my stomach was somewhere around my toes as he slammed the door shut. I tried again, but when he wheeled on me, his hand still around mine, all the words died on the tip of my tongue.

Our gazes collided for a fraction of a second, and then I dipped my chin to the left and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry about what happened out there. I—”

“Are you fucking apologizing?”

My gaze rose to his. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, the guy was a dick, but he—”

“You’re fucking serious?” His eyes were so dark I wondered how they changed color like that. “You have no reason to apologize for that fucking asshole.”

“It’s my first night and you had to kick someone out.”

“I don’t care if it was your first night or your tenth night, someone acts like that, then they’re out. No second chances.” He was staring down at me, and the look in his eyes was so intense it was like he could see right through me.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“What?” His eyes widened as his hand slipped up to my elbow. “Why in the hell would I be mad at you, Calla?”

I shook my head. Thinking about it, it did sound like a stupid question.

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”

Suddenly, desperation to be out of this room, or at least change the subject, washed over me with the force of a tidal wave. “He said something about trouble—Mack did. Was he talking about Mom?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

I thought it did. “Then why am I back here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The words repeated themselves through my head. He wanted to make sure I was okay and that . . . that was sweet.

“You did nothing wrong out there,” Jax went on as he squeezed my arm gently, reassuringly. “I’m pissed because that was utter bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, it was, but . . .”

He cocked his head to the side. “But what?”

Warmth crept into my face, and I took a step back, going as far as I could with his hand around my elbow.

“What, Calla?” He reclaimed the space, the tips of his boots brushing my toes.

I took another step back, and I was against the wall, back flush with it, and he was still right in front of me. The entire length of my body shimmered with awareness. I started to look away, to turn my head.

Like the night before, two fingers curled around my chin, forcing my face straight on with his, and it was with his head lowered near mine. And his mouth . . . it was inches from mine.