The bell on the front door rings, and all eyes turn to Hope as she steps in. The boys’ eyes go wide. They’re like little wolves who have survived on roadkill their entire lives, and someone put a filet mignon in front of them.
Not good.
There’s her father, not two feet behind.
Unless he goes blind in the next second, there’s no way he isn’t going to lose his mind at Hope being so close to all these boys.
And the leader of the group has to show just how dumb he is. “Well, hello there. Are you free too?”
And the room goes electric.
“My daughter doesn’t exist to you.” Max steps in front of her. Two-hundred-and-fifty plus pounds of seething indignation fills the space.
“And who are you that I should care?”
“Rage Vincenti.”
Max’s nefarious grin would scare me if I didn’t know what a gentle soul he is.
“Vincenti.” The leader’s voice trembles. “Not from the Vincenti Family, right?”
Max takes a step forward. “I’m Rage Vincenti. Don Vincenti’s son. And that’s his granddaughter you just spoke to.”
“I didn’t mean it.” The boy backs away. “I didn’t mean it. I have no beef with the Vincenti Family. Don’t kill me.” The kid just might pee his pants.
I shouldn’t laugh, but the look on the kid’s face cracks me up inside. Death and dismemberment can’t happen in my bakery, no matter how funny it might be. Time to diffuse. “Hope, go help out in the kitchen.”
Hope nods with a smile and rushes to the back room.
“So, what else can I get you guys? We make amazing biscotti.”
Slowly, the boys switch their gazes back to me. I funnel them into a booth as I write down a list that would feed a small football team. They’re probably going to end up vomiting most of this up, but who am I to tell hungry kids no?
I step back and run into something…someone…warm, strong arms wrap around me, holding me steady. There’s no question about whose they are, nor the fact that I want to melt into them. But instead, I whisper, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Making sure they know you’re off limits as well.” He doesn’t let go. Max tickles Dash’s little foot, eliciting a small giggle.
Which shouldn’t be the sweetest thing, but it is. Irritating man. “I don’t need you to protect me. Canyon is right over there.”
“That should be the real question. Why is your ‘boyfriend’ over there when he should be right where I am?”
Because he’s my fake boyfriend, and I scare him a little bit. “Because Canyon knows that I can take care of myself.”
Max leans in even closer. His lips almost touch my ear. “A man would have to be a fool not to know that. But your abilityto care for yourself shouldn’t stop your man from protecting you. My woman—”
A shiver runs down my spine.
“—will never be put in a situation where she’d test those skills. She’d always know that she’s safe.”
How do I even respond to that? Leaning back into Max’s chest wouldn’t be the right way to go. Why does he do this to me?
No one else has ever gotten me tied up in knots like this man. “So, what you’re saying is you treat your women like children.” I pull away from him and walk over to the chair next to Canyon.
There’s no need for me to turn around and look and see if Max is watching. I could feel his eyes following me through the restaurant. “Put your arm around my shoulder,” I lean in and whisper to Canyon. He does what I ask, and I instantly regret it. Years of horrible practice are the only thing that keeps the look on my face tranquil.
“You know Max wants to kill me right now. He likes you. This is a very dangerous game you’re playing.”
“It’s not a game. I’m not that person, even though it feels like I’m that person.”
