“Well, look at you. You look madder than a wet hen right now.”
“I’m fucking pissed,” I snap. “Have you been drinking?”
He shrugs. “A bit. We ran out of booze at the house and decided to come into town.”
“Of course you did.”
His gaze slides past me, lingering on a redhead near the jukebox. Typical. I snap my fingers in front of his face. Hard.
“Eyes on me, Carl.”
That gets a reaction.
His expression shifts, tightening with a mean little curl of his lip. “I don’t take too kindly to a little bitch telling me what to do.” His gaze sweeps down and narrows. “Well,littleis a stretch.”
It hits like a slap and I freeze for a beat. Not because it’s new but because he’s family. Because he said it like it was a truth I should’ve already known. My stomach twists, heat rising up my neck. I open my mouth, ready to tear into him, to make him regret ever forming words?—
But before I can get a syllable out, I’m pulled backward.
Large hands wrap gently, but firmly around my arms, tugging me out of range, and suddenly there’s a wall between me and Carl. A living, breathing wall named Will.
He steps in front of me, and he’s so damn tall, so solid, that I can’t see around him, let alone over him. All I get is a front-row seat to the white shirt stretched tight over his back and shoulders, muscles straining under cotton like they’re ready to take someone apart.
Wait.
Didn’t he have a jacket on earlier?
My heart stutters. That jacket was soft, golden, warm. This is raw heat. He smells like sweat and bourbon and something woodsy I don’t have a name for. But I’d know it blindfolded.
I should be mad he stepped in. I should say or do something but all I can do is stare at the curve of his shoulder and the fists he’s making at his sides. Will’s not just standing there. He’s bracing.
“Carl Stone.” Will’s voice is low, rough enough to scrape bone. “Thought I told you not to come back to my bar.”
Carl raises both hands like this is some big misunderstanding. “Hey now. It was Liam’s idea.”
“Don’t care.” Will takes a slow step forward, and Carl finally has the sense to flinch. “Get out of here. Now.”
I reach out before this escalates any further, placing a hand on Will’s arm. He’s coiled tight, his muscles twitching beneath my palm like they’re ready to spring.
“Will,” I say softly.
He doesn’t look at me directly, but he turns his head just enough that I know he’s listening.
“They’ve been drinking,” I say. “They can’t drive. I’ll take them back. He can get his truck later.”
Thick silence hangs between us. Will stares down Carl like he’s trying to burn him out of existence, but his hand doesn’t move, and I can feel the tension slowly bleeding off his shoulders.
“You sure?” he asks, voice quieter now, but still edged.
“Yeah,” I say. I squeeze his arm once, maybe for reassurance. Maybe for me. “I’ve got it.”
His jaw tics, and he nods once, short and sharp. But when he finally turns to look at me, really look, there’s something flickering behind his eyes. Something that makes my pulse jump.
Will steps back, but just barely. His body still hums with the kind of tension that says he’s two wrong words away from throwing a punch. His eyes stay on Carl like a warning, even as I move to herd the drunks toward the door.
Liam mumbles something unintelligible as he stumbles after me, and Carl tosses one last glance over his shoulder, more interested in the redhead by the jukebox than the damage he nearly caused.
I don’t say goodbye. I don’t look back.
