He spins around with a spatula in hand, his sapphire eyes widening in shock.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he roars, but the door is already swinging shut behind me. My back presses against it, and I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the squeal of laughter that wants to come out. “I swear to god, Chuck Carson, if you don't turn and leave this room—”

But it's already occurred to me that I might have a way to end my bullying once and for all. Well, at least from Ranger anyway. Church and Spencer are entirely different stories. And the twins … I'm not really sure what to think about the twins.

“Why are you naked?” I choke out, whipping my phone from my pocket and using burst shot to take about a million pictures all at once. Ranger drops his spatula and comes at me. He's so fast that I can barely turn around before he's grabbing me around the waist and hauling me back. “It's already uploading to the cloud!” I shout as he tries to grab my phone. “It's too late. You can't take those pictures away from me unless you sign into my account.”

“You'll sign into the account for me and take care of it,” he snarls, his body pressed awfully close against mine. “Or I'll shove your fucking head down the clogged toilet in the bathroom down the hall, and see how long you can choke on shit before you give in.”

I slam my foot down on Ranger's instep, and he snarls in pain. His grip, however, doesn't lessen. Not at all. In fact, all that move does is make him squeeze me harder.

He leans forward, and a necklace falls over his shoulder, swinging in front of me enticingly. It's a silver key with one end in the shape of a heart. I reach up and snatch it, breaking the chain and then tossing it as hard as I can toward the wall above the sink. It bounces off and pings right down the drain.

“Fucking hell!” Ranger snaps, releasing me and letting me fall to my knees on the floor. He rushes over and sticks his hand down the drain, cursing, and then kicking the door panel with his big, black combat boot. “If I lose this necklace, Chuck, so help me, I'll wring your goddamn neck.”

He drops to his knees and opens the cabinet, unscrewing the P-trap and flooding the floor with a bunch of water. The key drops out, too, and Ranger picks it up, clutching it against his chest with a sigh.

From where I'm kneeling, I can see his ass and … other things. You know, like his balls. They're just sort of hanging there. My cheeks flush, and I look away, using the wall to get to my feet.

“I'm not going to do anything with the pictures,” I tell him, feeling my heart thunder as he stands up and throws the darkest fucking glare over his shoulder. My mind strays to our baking session, to the way his strong arms slid around my waist and held me while we mixed the ingredients. “If you stop bullying me and treating me like crap, that is. It's all I want.”

Ranger stands up and fixes the key back around his neck, moving over to check whatever's baking in the oven. He slips on a mitt and pulls it out with a curse, setting the cake pan on the counter.

“You've totally fucked-up my German chocolate, Carson.” He lifts his eyes up to mine, but I'm too focused on the Jenica tattoo across his chest. “Eyes up here, asshole. I know you're bi, but even if I were a flaming rainbow unicorn, I wouldn't date your ass. You're a pathetic, sulking loser.”

“And you're a bully!” I retort, moving across the kitchen and slamming my palms on the countertop. I reach one finger up and push my glasses up my nose. “Why are you so obsessed with baking anyway?”

Ranger just glares back at me, but he doesn't bother to answer.

“You know my mother’s family owns Host Hollow Cupcakes, right?” he asks, and my jaw drops. Host Hollow isn't just a cupcake brand, it's an entire snack food conglomerate worth over one point five billion dollars. “Baking is in my blood. My grandparents started this company in 1960.” He turns the cake pan over and slams it on the counter. The slightly burnt pastry tumbles out. There's something about Ranger's answer though that doesn't seem right, like he's hiding something. I don't press; I have other questions I want answered.

Besides … when I think about him at age eight, finding out his older sister was found hanging from a tree … all I feel is sorry for him.

“Please tell me why you're baking naked in a frilly apron?” I ask, and Ranger purses his lips. He glances away from me with a scowl on his face, and then turns, flashing that perfect, muscular ass of his.

He shoves open one of the windows, perches that pretty butt on the windowsill and pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the black backpack that's lying on the floor near his feet. He lights up and smokes out the window as I move over to stand beside him.

“Get the hell out of here, Carson, before I decide to kick your ass.” He points at me with the lit cigarette, blue eyes dark with anger and frustration. “And if you show those pictures to anyone, not only will it not stop me from picking on you: I'll destroy you. In fact,” Ranger stands up, towering over me and smelling like leather and sugar, “I'll make sure your dad loses his job, and the two of you are shipped back to the West Coast.”

“If it's worth it to you for the entire school to see you … like this.” I gesture at his naked body, and Ranger grabs my hand, squeezing hard. Heat flares through me, and I make a little gasping sound that has him raising his brows in surprise.

He's gonna figure it out, I warn myself as I slide my hand from his. Ranger lets me go, but that menacing expression on his face stays.

“So help me God, Carson.” He shoves his hair from his forehead and points to the door. “Get the fuck out of here, and keep your damn mouth shut.”

“Why are you baking naked?” I repeat, and he just looks me dead in the face, not at all ashamed about it.

“Because I like to cook naked. So what? It's my business, not yours.”

“How hygienic is that though? I mean, some people might think it's kind of gross.”

“I'm only cooking for myself, and I clean the kitchen after. Get over yourself, Carson.” Ranger moves back to the counter and scrapes what's left of his cake into the trash.

“Why the apron then?” I ask, and I swear he grows spines from his back and his eyes glitter with rage as he turns to glare over his shoulder. He looks like a dragon about to tear the head off an unsuspecting peasant.

“Do you always ask so many personal questions that are none of your damn business? Get out of here, and go to hell.”

“And why always the pretty, frilly aprons?” I push, knowing there's not a lot he can do to me when he's naked. All I have to do is slip out the door and run for it; he won't chase me. I mean, at least I don't think he would … He's such a salty bastard though, I wouldn't put it past him entirely.

Ranger slams the mixing bowl in the sink and turns to glare at me, chest heaving with frustration.

“They were my grandmother's,” he grinds out, and I raise my eyebrows.

“You cook naked in your grandmother's aprons? Do you know how weird that sounds?”

“GET OUT!” he roars, and I scramble toward the door, pulling it partially open as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down.