“Kind of. I’m just a fill-in, nothing permanent.” I leaned back, gesturing to my body with an exaggerated wave, “You’re looking at a newly licensed, unarmed guard. Saturday’s my first solo shift.”
His mug hit the counter with an abrupt thunk, causing my head to jolt back. I could practically see the anger seeping from his pores. The man’s moods were going to give me serious whiplash one of these days.
“You’re fucking with me.”
I grimaced, unsure what to do with the unapologetic audacity he was flaunting at me. “No.”
“You have no business being a guard.”
“Excuse me?” He was one-hundred percent correct, because I was a complete scaredy cat. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to agree with him to his face. Not after he’d just laid my pride on a log and slammed a freaking sledgehammer into it.
“You want to explain that one to me?” I tightened my hold on my mug, trying to keep my voice low so Jamie wouldn’t come running out of his room.
Garrett didn’t back down. “You’re what, five foot three? A buck thirty, soaking wet?”
“Five foot five, actually.” As if that tiny detail mattered in the least.
“Where.” The word was wrapped in aggression, and it made the air around us thicken to an almost unbearable level. My shoulders drew up, and in my peripheral, Layla straightened to attention.
Fighting back my body’s conditioned response to livid men, I took a shaky sip of coffee. It was still too hot and burned my tongue, but I ignored the pain, refusing to let him see how much his tone had unsettled me. “The community college.”
“And what exactly will you be doing?”
“Patrolling the campus.”
“Alone.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered like it was anyway. “Yes.”
“Unarmed.” Another statement.
“I’ll have Mace,” I snapped. He was hitting on every insecurity I already had about the job, and it pissed me off. I didn’t need to be reminded that I was doing something I didn’t feel qualified to be doing.
“Mace,” he scoffed, shoving off the stool and prowling around the counter toward me. I retreated a step, heart rate increasing, but he kept stalking closer until we were chest to stomach, my back pressed against the fridge.
“Go ahead, Madison.” His face loomed inches above my own, “Reach for an imaginary Mace canister at your side. Let’s see if you can do it before I incapacitate you.”
My chest started heaving, my blood pressure building to an unhealthy point, and angry tears stung the corners of my eyes. I raised one arm to the side, holding up a hand to stop Layla, who looked ready to castrate the man in front of me.
Never looking away from him, I moved, but I didn’t go for anything imaginary. I shot my hands straight up, wrapping them around the sides of his head, and pressing my thumbs over his eyelids—not enough to hurt, just to make a point that I could.
His hands clutched my waist, making it impossible to pull away. I rammed my knee up into his thigh, just to the side of his groin, and he grunted.
Slipping my hands farther up, I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and yanked his head down. Several silent tears had escaped, trailing down my flushed cheeks, but I still looked him straight in the face. His grip on my waist immediately slackened to a gentle hold.
“I feel like we’ve been here before,” I whispered, doing the opposite of him, and tightening my grip, “with you assuming something about me and looking like an asshole.”
I tilted my head, sucking on my teeth. “You’re right, I’m no match against a man of your size who truly wants to do me harm, but I’m not without claws. I may not win, but you better believe I fight back now.”