I started to turn but she yanked me back.
“It’snotworth it Jagger. Who cares about my damn truck?” She stood toe to toe with me. “And what are you going to do, anyway? Beat up the entire bar? You think my car will be in one piece after that?”
That gave me pause. Going back in there and cracking skulls in Sunny’s name would only make it worse for her.
She was right.
“Just… calm down, Jagg.”
I stared at the front door of the bar, gun in one hand, Sunny on the other.
Sunny’s focus remained on the side of my face. She took a deep breath, then another, until finally, I found myself releasing an exhale.
“Good. Thank you. Come on.” This time, she pulled me across the parking lot.
Once at her truck, she fisted her hands on her hips. “Well…damn.”
I forced my focus to switch from kicking ass to solving the problem at hand. “A buddy of mine can fix the paint first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t need you to handle it.”
“I know.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me. “Let’s go.”
She jerked her hand back. We squared off like two sumo wrestlers, right there under the fluorescent lights of Frank’s.
“Where?”
“I’m driving you home. I’ll have my buddy come get the truck.”
“What? No.”
“Dammit, Sunny.” I dropped her hand and began pacing, stalking back and forth like a madman, flexing and unflexing my fists with each step.
Sunny stood motionless, watching me like someone might a recoiling snake. Her hair danced around her face in the breeze, strands of ebony against her lips. God those lips.
I planted my feet and turned to her. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” I demanded.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but getting dinner. I don’t cook.” She squinted. “Why areyouhere?”
“I come here all the time. The stool at the end of the bar is molded to my ass. I can handle the crowd here.”
She jerked back her chin, affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means a beautiful woman with a target on her back should have better judgment than to swing by a dive-bar on the way home.Especiallyalone.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve been here dozens of times since I moved here.”
“Trolling for men?”
“Fuck you.”
My hands fisted at my side.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” she continued. “And you think a single woman can’t handle herself?”
“Based on what I was looking at when I walked in, no, I don’t think so.”
“What would you have had me do? Bust a bottle over the redneck’s head? Break those pretty little blonde’s noses? Put a damn spell on the place?” Her voice cracked with the last one, and of all the insults that had been hurled in her direction, that one apparently stung the worst.
