“Too bad. You don’t get to weasel your way into my life one second and then sprint from my house at lightning speed the next.”

“What do you want me to say?” He stared down, his eyes boring into mine.

“I want the truth.”

“There is no truth. I wanted to talk to you and I did.” His gaze swapped from fiery to bored like an internal switch had been flipped.

And that pissed me off. Burning, fire-and-brimstone rage bubbled up inside me. I jabbed my finger into the center of his chest.

“You don’t get to decide if this is over. You spend all this time trying to talk to me and get me to open up, and then, when I finally do, you’re done? Just like that?” I snapped in front of his face. “Well, screw you.”

His head shot up and snapped to the side. “You need to go, Bay.” He edged further away from the door, closing it behind him.

“No, I’m not moving until you talk to me.” I planted my hands on my hips. “You’ll have to tackle me to get me to move.”

He let out a long, low hiss. “Fuck.” His shoulder dropped and my eyebrows dipped.

My yelp was loud, probably reverberating through the whole neighborhood when his shoulder planted in my stomach. Not hard and heavy—other than the surprise it didn’t hurt at all, but I was upside down. His bare feet were silent rushing down the uneven paved walkway to his house.

The stun wore off and I pushed off his back, brushing my hair out of my face. “Put me down.”

A set of keys jingled and he shifted my weight. I was dumped in the front passenger seat of his car.

He looked back at the house and threw himself into the driver’s side before throwing his arm over my seat back and careening out of the driveway, bottoming out at the dip to the road and taking the turn before rocketing down his street like he was an F1 driver.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.” He cut his gaze in my direction, leaning forward in his seat, hands tight around the steering wheel.

“Nope, not happening.” I clicked my seatbelt in and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not getting out of this car until you talk to me.”

“Would you stop—”

“Being so frustrating and difficult? Welcome to the club. You’ll have to drag me from this car and peel my fingers off the door frame to get me to leave.”

He let out a low growl and blew straight past my house.

“You don’t have any shoes on.”

He lifted his left foot and glanced down at it. The edges of his mouth turned down.

“You didn’t notice before now?”

“I had more important things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

“Getting you the hell away from my house.”

I shrank back into the seat. This wasn’t how the scenarios had run in my head. They’d all ended with him apologizing and kissing the hell out of me. Right now, I’d be lucky if he didn’t drop me off on the side of the road and force me to walk back to my house.