“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Ben asks, suddenly grabbing my wrist.
“Um–“
But before I can yank my arm away, Knox appears as a wall of steel to my back, a band of muscle around my waist, and he’s breathing puffs of rage that are peppering the back of my neck.
“Get your fucking hands off the lady.”
I’m under no illusions what this must look like to my coworkers as Casper’s eyes widen in surprise and Bernadette clears her throat with discomfort. It looks as if I am this tall, tatted, neanderthal’s property and that they were the last to know.
“Who in the God Bless America hell are you?” Casper asks, as both he and Bernadette gawk at Knox.
I don’t blame them.
Knox is a sight to behold and definitely something to gawk at.
“I meant no disrespect,” Ben says and sits back down in his seat.
“On the contrary, I think it’s quite disrespectful to put your hands all over a woman who didn’t ask for it, beg for it, or pay for it,” Knox tells him.
“Let it go,” I say embarrassed.
“Damn, girl, you’ve been holding out on us.” Casper grins and winks mockingly. “I bet you don’t have to beg for it! Is this tall drink of water why you suddenly have a stomachache and want to go home tonight?”
“Absolutely not,” I respond as if I’ve just been insulted. “This is… a family friend who’s visiting from out of town. He just misunderstood the situation.”
“Uh-huh.”
Knox steps away from me, and I instantly miss his protective shield of his warmth.
“Let’s go, Gigi.”
The way he’s barking out commands doesn’t help the situation, but I know not to test him right now. He’s in guard dog mode. When we were in high school, I’d seen this mood many times before.
“Have a good night everyone.”
“Make sure he rubs that tummy and make it all better, Bish!” Casper practically cackles as we walk out of the restaurant together.
Knox slams the door after he climbs into his truck. He’s not just angry about Ben touching me. He’s pissed about something else, which seems to be why my punishment is spending the next ten minutes listening to a satellite radio station devoted solely to the music of 1990s lithium rock. I had no clue Nirvana had this many hit records. It’s freaking depressing.
Since the two of us aren't talking, I take out my phone and text Matthew again just in case he didn’t see the earlier ones about meeting me for dinner.
Me: Hey, Matt, I’m just getting off work. Can we chat tonight? I can talk anytime.
Still nothing.
The station finally switches from Nirvana to Beck and now we’re listening to an extended version of I’m A Loser Baby (so why don’t you kill me). I’ve finally had enough. If this goes on for too much longer, I’m going to throw myself out of the car and into the middle of Broad Street. Death would be better than this music.
“Can we change the station puh-lease?!”
I lean over to press one of the control buttons before he says yes or no.
“Don’t fucking touch it.”
My hand freezes in mid air.
“You’re a sad human being.” I defiantly adjust my seat all the way back and close my eyes. “Just wake me up once we’re there.”
My body violently jerks forward when Knox suddenly swerves over to a parking lane, stops the car, and turns down the music.
