turned to Clint with his hand already closing into a fist.
She jumped in between them with her back to Clint and her hands planted on Tate’s chest. “Tate, please don’t do this.”
Tate talked right over her head. “The last thing I feel for Liz is pity. Nothing, not even you, can ever break the bond between us.”
“I’m the one in her bed, not you.”
She spun around and faced Clint. “Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with you?” She’d had enough. What she and Clint did in private was none of anyone’s business. She didn’t want it broadcast like this, where any one of her neighbors could hear them.
The last thing she wanted was Tate knowing about her sleeping with another man. Stupid as it was. He had to know she’d been with a couple other guys. She couldn’t wait for him forever. But still. Clint went too far throwing it in Tate’s face.
“Me? He won’t leave us alone so we can be together without his interference. He’s got you all turned around. He tugs on the leash and you run back to him.”
She sucked in a breath and stepped back as those insulting words hit her.
“Do not talk to her that way.” The restrained anger in Tate’s voice didn’t even touch the rage she felt, but under it she felt the pain.
Liz turned to Tate but embarrassment kept her gaze from going any higher than his throat. “Please go home, Tate. I know you mean well, but your interference is making things worse. We’ll talk later. Right now, I need to talk to Clint.”
Tate put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back with him several paces. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Will you be okay?”
She nodded but didn’t look up at him.
He hesitated a good ten seconds, then kissed her forehead like he often did before all this got complicated. “I don’t like leaving you like this, but I’ll do what you ask. Call me later so I know you’re all right.” He walked toward his truck. “You talk to her like that again, I’ll fuck you up.”
Liz leaned against the side of her car. Clint glared at Tate until he drove away, then he finally turned back to her. “How can you possibly be friends with him?”
“Why should I be with you when you talk about me like I’m a dog on Tate’s leash?” Humiliation heated her cheeks because it did feel a little true.
“Babe, come on, you know I meant that’s how he treats you.” Clint walked to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Can’t you see? He’s not jealous. He just wants to keep you to himself because you feed his overinflated ego.”
She pushed past him, grabbed her purse off the trunk where she left it to talk to Tate, and headed for the stairs to her place. “Thanks. I feel so much better.”
He followed her. “You don’t need someone like him in your life. You’ve got me. I care about you.”
Halfway up the stairs, she turned to face him. “Really? Then what is with all those texts insisting I answer you immediately.”
“I figured you were with him and things would end badly again. And I was right.” He looked her directly in the eyes to make sure his point hit home. “I thought you might want to be with me, someone who doesn’t want to push you away but pull you closer.” He put his hands on her hips, turned her around, and nudged her to finish walking up the steps to her door. “When you didn’t answer, it bothered me.”
She pulled the keys from her purse, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
Clint slammed the door before she took more than three steps into the entry, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back so hard she stumbled and slammed her head into the door before her back hit with a thump.
His fingers dug into the outside of her shoulder. “I am so tired of doing this with you. The bar, your work, at your condo. Every time I want to see you, there he is. You’re with me. You will not see him again.”
She put her hand on his wrist and tried to push his hand away, but his punishing grip never ceased. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”
“Say you understand. You will not see him anymore.”
“Clint, you’re hurting me,” she shrieked, unable to focus on anything but the pain in her arm.