HUNTER: Molly said he’s slimy, but he’s still there. Staring at Belle.
ME: GTG.
That’s all I need to know. Don’t need more info. I know where she is. That she needs me. That’s enough.
Oh yeah. I know that piece of crap is ogling her. No way is that piece of crap who treated her like she’s expendable worthy to be in the same country as she is, much less the same bar. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve to look at her. Or see her. He hurt her. Made her doubt herself.
My thoughts are all over the place as I navigate the streets between my place and the Pitstop. I can’t go storming in there like a fool to claim my property because she isn’t that. But she’s my woman. She chose me. And this fool is going to know that she’s been claimed and rescued from the pain he put inside her.
I don’t have a plan. Not more than going in there and reminding this fool that he had a good thing with Belle and he blew it and now she and I are together. I don’t want to say she belongs to me, because I don’t want to go all chauvinist pig in front of her, but it’s an idea I’ll keep in reserve. Just in case I need to go caveman on this guy.
Fact is, he isn’t getting her back. Not tonight. Not ever.
I whip into the parking lot, pull into the spot next to her car in the back, under a street lamp. I make inside and scope out the place. There is a crowd. Teachers from the college. Some of the regulars I see everytime I’m here. Some diehard fans who probably have a full day of work tomorrow and are here cheering on drivers racing laps on the TV. But in the back side of the room, I see Belle. She’s tucked on the inside of the booth beside the bachelorette who’d “introduced” us and across from Molly.
She’s dressed in a silk shirt and jacket, probably the matching slacks because she knows how to dress to impress. And I’m impressed.
I stride over through the crowd like I own the place, like I’m not worried about any man here, although I think I know which one is the problem. He’s the one staring at her. The pipsqueak at the bar with the bowtie untied around his neck.
I hope the asshole is getting an eyefull because in about three seconds, he’s going to shit himself. I get to the table and crook my finger at Belle. Sometimes she likes when I tell her what to do, but right now, I can’t read her. Right now, she’s stuck somewhere between a frown and a moment and if she doesn’t slide out of the booth behind her friend, I’m going to look like a fool. But this is a risk I’m willing to take to make sure the asshole who hurt her knows she’s taken. Knows she’s found someone else who treats her like a g oddess.
It takes her a second that almost kills me because I want her to be sure of us and she isn’t, but she steps out of the booth and stands in front of me. My hands find her cheeks and I pull her in, lay a kiss on her that is searing and hot and right on the border between dark and sexy, between desperate and passionate.
Her hands climb up my chest and one lays at the back of my head, little finger stroking my neck as she tilts her head and takes the kiss deeper.
I hear the girls hooting and calling out, chanting my name like they’re at a rock concert and I’m the headliner.
When we pull back, the friend who isn’t Molly laughs. “Is that an audition for your porn career?”
I shoot her a look that is pure fire. “I’m not letting anybody but me see what’s mine.” I soften the words with a smile, but the message is out there and that’s all I need. “I just heard that a beautiful girl was here and I couldn’t wait to see her another minute.”
It isn’t true. But bros don’t rat out bros. And telling Molly that Hunter shot me a text isn’t my place.
“Her ex”--the friend nods to the bar– “is here.”
I take a quick glance and nod. “Hmm.” Caleb Gray. I know him. Asshole from days of old. Uses those chain mechanics with the TV commercials. Prick. “That’s him?”
Molly and Maisie nod, Belle looks down at her shoes. I smile. And what lovely shoes they are.
But I can’t lose focus right now. “That guy knocked my sister up in high school. Left her to deal with everything herself. Even a miscarriage. He’s a piece of shit.” God. I’ve never said this shit out loud and now it’s an ache in my gut, a stab inside of me. Damned if this fuck is going to get away with anything on my watch. I tilt her chin up, reining in the rage enough I can smile and kiss the tip of her nose. “I’ll be right back.”
“Walker…?” Her voice is soft and I turn, wink because it’s all I can do. Blood is pounding in my ears and red tinges the edges of everything I can see.
It’s about ten steps from me to the prick who hurt my sister and then Belle. And he looks up at me. “Hey, Walker. Long time, buddy.”
I’m not violent by nature. I’ll use my fist only when necessary, but I don’t go looking for it. Until right now.
My fist shoots out, catches him in the nose and blood explodes, he falls to the ground.
“Hey buddy, you gotta get out of here. We don’t go for that shit here.” But the bartender stays behind the bar.
I nod, walk back to the table where Belle is standing and take her hand. Her mouth is gaping open, but she follows me to the door. As soon as we’re outside, she stops and pulls me around to look at her. Then she shoves me against the wall and kisses me. It’s more intense than the one inside, and I want her.
“I’m not going to make it home. I want you now.” The words are hot against my throat.
Oh, fuck. If my dick wasn’t already hard, those words would’ve turned it. “Truck’s right there.” I nod to the truck sitting at the back of the lot. “Come on.” I take her hand and weave us through the cars to the truck. Kiss her again as I open the back door.
She slides back, shrugs out of her jacket and starts unfastening her top. When it’s open, she goes for the skinny black belt around her waist. I’m still dressed because I like watching herundress. I love the way her long, slender fingers move against the fabric, slip the buttons through. Then she pulls me into the truck on top of her.
