I reared up and made a grab for them as Ren clipped, “Ally, what the f**k?”
“Give me my jeans!” I snapped loudly but he held them away.
Thus began a stand up tussle that included some slapping and grabbing (me), defensive maneuvers (Ren); my part desperate, his part possibly confused. Finally, he tossed the jeans behind him and since he was a tall, powerfully-built Italian hothead standing between me and my jeans, an obstruction I was not likely to breach, I grunted in frustration and shoved his chest (also in frustration).
He took two steps back and lifted both his hands, palms out my way.
“Right. Enough. Calm down and tell me what the f**k you’re talkin’ about,” he demanded.
I locked my eyes with his.
“You fought over her that night.”
His head jerked and he asked, “What?”
“That night!” I shouted. “That night we hooked up. You fought with Luke over Ava.”
Suddenly, his body went completely still, as did the air in the room, and his eyes didn’t leave me but they’d gone funny as he whispered, “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I hissed.
He shook his head, not in the negative, like he was trying to clear it.
Then he asked disbelievingly, “You’re tellin’ me we’ve been in each other’s space for over a year and you’re throwin’ this shit in my face now?”
“Well, if that’s not enough…” I shot back instantly, slamming my hands on my hips, something Ren’s eyes watched before they came back to mine and I saw they were heating.
This was a warning signal I’d made a habit of not heeding. And at that point, I did the same and kept right on talking.
“There was the night at the art gallery where you said you had eyes on me but I never caught your eyes on me. But I did see you gazing at Ava!”
I sounded like a jealous bitch. I knew it. And I didn’t care.
Because the big bossy jerk asked me to Ava’s wedding!
Those eyes I was talking about narrowed and he returned, “I might have looked at Ava, Ally, but f**k, only because she was there.”
“You didn’t look, Zano, you gazed.”
He blinked then asked, “Jesus, have you lost your mind?”
“No.” I answered. “I’m a woman and I know.”
“You know,” he replied.
“Yep,” I bit out. “I know.”
“You know, for a year I’ve been bangin’ you, busting my ass to find a way in with you, you gave me every sign I was succeeding… and before you open your mouth to deny it, I’ll remind you about Christmas morning,” he warned me.
Since I’d opened my mouth to deny it, at his reminder, I snapped it shut.
He kept going.
“And that entire f**kin’ year you’ve been thinkin’ I’m in love with another woman and you didn’t say anything?”
God.
Was he serious?