“So, you admit you called me a jerk.”
“I admit nothing.” I pick up my pace, but it’s pointless—his legs are twice as long as mine. “Maybe you’re just paranoid.”
“Paranoid?” His voice drops to that low tone that makes my pulse quicken. “About what?”
“About people talking about you behind your back. Which, considering your charming personality, probably happens a lot.”
I hear him make a sound that might be a growl, and suddenly his hand is on my arm, spinning me around to face him. We’re standing close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, close enough that I can smell his piney, masculine scent that makes my head spin.
“My personality is perfectly fine,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
“Says who?” I challenge him, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You?”
“I don
