Page 33 of Sunkissed Colorado

Great. She was doing that thing where women get mad at a guy because he doesn’t know why she’s mad, which made my head hurt thinking about it. “Justtell me. Please.”

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it? That I don’t find you charming. Or attractive.”

I pretended nonchalance, but my defensiveness was rising. “I already apologized for hitting on you. But let’s be honest. These genetics can’t be denied. I’m just working with what God gave me here.”

“You are so arrogant,” she seethed.

“You have your moments, believe me.”

“And you act so entitled.”

“Me? You’ve always had everything.” I said this in a mild tone, because I wasn’t criticizing, though my blood was definitely up. “Your two rich parents and your fancy business degree. I’m a lot of things, but entitled ain’t it.”

“Says the guy who was part of a famous singer’s entourage tonight.”

“I’ve worked my ass off for?—”

“So have I!” she protested. “You don’t know a thing about my life.”

“Maybe not, but you can’t claim to know anything about mine.”

Zandra tried to get around me again, and this time she squeezed past me to the door. But when she jiggled the handle, nothing happened. “You idiot. You locked us in!”

I shrugged, because yeah, I’d locked us in. She wasn’t getting out of this conversation. Not this time.

Zandra’s scowl when she turned around said she knew it too. “We talked about the sticky lock in this storage room the other day. What the hell? Why did you do that?”

“To force you to talk to me. It’s been days, and I’m sick of you avoiding me.”

“So you locked me in a storage closet with you?” Her eyes went wide with disbelief, and she grabbed a toilet plunger from the shelf, holding it out like she was brandishing a sword.

The sight was so ridiculous I had to bite back a laugh.

“Feel free to call 9-1-1,” I said.

“My phone’s in my purse. In the office.”

“Then use mine. We can both explain our sides of the story to the dispatcher. But while we’re waiting for an officer to show up, we’ll have at least five or ten minutes to talk. That’s all I want. Just tell me what you think I did.”

She dropped the plunger. “Why do you care so much? I already told you I’m not going to talk shit about you to my grandfather. I’m going to be fair.”

“It’s because I care what you think.”

“Sincewhen?” She paced the room like a caged tiger, though she could only take about two steps in each direction before hitting a wall or a shelf.

“I’ve always cared what you think. Even back in high school. You were…” I trailed off, thinking about how she’d been the smartest girl I knew in our class. Not just book smart. She could think on her feet, and she was funny. Sometimes damn near mesmerizing.

“You weren’t like anyone else in our class,” I finished. “You weremore.”

Zandra stopped, the anger draining away and leaving pure confusion in its wake.

Then suddenly, she looked so sad that I had to force down the urge to pull her into my arms to somehow make this better.

But she didn’t stay frozen in place for long. She advanced, poking my chest with her finger. “You want to know my problem with you, O’Neal?”

My back hit the shelving unit. “That’s what I’ve been asking.”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Her eyes shone with sudden renewed fury. “You made my life hell after Jessa died.”