“You heard the lady. Time to run along,” I say, with a little flick of my hand like I’m shooing away a bug. Because that’s what this guy is, an annoying bug.
“Hey, man,” he says, looking up at me from the other side of Morgan. “I’m trying to talk to my girl and I don’t know what your problem is?—”
I keep my voice a whole lot calmer than I feel when I say, “My problem is that,a, she’s not your girl, andb, she’s asked you to leave her alone multiple times.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business?” he says, taking the hand that was resting on Morgan’s hip and pushing it into my chest.
I don’t move an inch. “I suggest you not touch me, or her, again.”
“Yeah? Or what?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
MORGAN
Here I was, thinking this situation couldn’t get any worse, and then Carter had to open his big mouth and utter the stupidest words you could say in this situation. I suspect he’s the only guy in the bar who doesn’t recognize Aidan. A few weeks without a haircut or trimming his beard, and he looks every bit the hockey player he’s known as and almost nothing like the guy I flirted with at a bar in Bermuda.
“Let’s not find out.” Aidan is eerily calm, his voice making him sound almost bored, and that seems to ramp Carter up even more.
I have no idea what Carter is thinking—Aidan is easily six inches taller than him, with about fifty pounds more muscle. And despite his calm voice, I can tell Aidan is wound tight, ready to beat Carter’s ass if he makes the wrong choice here. It’s like he’s just waiting for Carter to throw the first punch so he can show him whator whatlooks like.
“Hey,” a sharp voice comes from my left, and we all turn to see the bartender setting three drinks on the bar top. “Cool it, you two, or I’ll have security remove you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Carter’s voice rings out like a petulant child, “this asshole is bothering us.”
Standing between these two men—so different in every way—it’s unbelievable that I ever fell for one, and unfortunate that I can’t have the other.
No, you don’t want Aidan,I remind myself. We had a great few days in Bermuda, back when I thought he was someone else. Nothing about us together makes any sense.
Carter steps past me, as I stand with my back against the bar, and shoves Aidan again. It’s like he has zero self-preservation instincts.
When Aidan barely moves despite the way Carter throws his weight into the shove, Carter instead cocks his elbow back like he’s winding up to punch him. I don’t move away fast enough, and his elbow connects with my cheek. I yelp in surprise as I press a hand to my cheek, and then the pain strikes and my eyes instantly fill with tears.Fuck, that hurt.
Stepping toward Carter, Aidan pulls me behind him. Over the shouts of everyone around us, I have to strain to hear Aidan’s words. “You’re going to apologize to her, and then you’re leaving.”
“The hell I am,” Carter says, and he must make a move toward Aidan because when I peek around his side, Aidan’s fist connects with Carter’s nose and the sound of crunching bone silences everyone in the immediate vicinity.
“Aidan,” I gasp, “your hand?—”
“Is perfectly fine. See?” Instead of showing me his hand, he punches a stunned Carter a second time, this time connecting with his jaw. And a third time, right on the side of his face.
Carter’s head snaps back each time, but he stays upright, and as Aidan goes to punch him again, my voice rings out sharply. “Aidan. Stop!”
He stills instantly, and we watch as Carter stands there swaying side to side before he steps back, slips, and falls on his ass.
“Enjoy your broken nose, asshole,” Aidan says as he grabs my hand and drags me through the crowd toward the door.
On the sidewalk outside, Aidan moves so quickly I’m nearly running to keep up with him. About a block down, he pulls me into the alcove that houses the recessed doors to a shop. The light above us shines in my eyes as he tilts my chin up, moving it to the side as his fingertips lightly skim my cheek. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”
“No shit.” I wince at his light touch, but am not in the mood to listen to him state the obvious. “What the fuck was that all about? I had things handled, and you made it worse.”
His fingers steer my jaw upward, making me meet his gaze. “He had his hand around your waist and wouldn’t leave you alone. That’s nothandled.”
“Oh, so the big hockey player has to come throw his weight around? How fucking predictable.”
“Nooo,” the word is slow and deliberate leaving his lips. “You just needed backup.”
“No, I didn’t. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m an adult and can handle myself.”
