Fred nudged her in the side, making her acutely aware her jaw was hanging open.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Mmm, I think it would be a good idea if the three of you hop up into your little truck there and run along before you get hurt.”
Blair watched as he spoke and flicked his hands as he talked. She wanted to tell him to quit taunting them, but she nearly cackled at his words and actions.
“Buddy, there’s three of us and only one of you. I think it’s you who should run along.” The fool tried to mock the big guy’s actions.
“Trust me. I am more than capable of protecting myself and these two. Come on. Let’s all just end the night with the three of you leaving and us three doing the same.” He turned slightly toward Blair.
Blair’s stomach fluttered. This man was every single one of her fantasies rolled into one. Tall, good-looking, muscular, tattooed, and protective. She didn’t know if he had money, but she’d throw that in the fuck it bucket. Her inner hussy snorted, agreeing they’d like to fuck him.
The move gave the asshole an opening as he rushed her savior. She watched, gasping, as the idiot from the bar slammed into the new guy’s stomach like a professional linebacker. Most people would’ve fallen on their backs from the impact. But he didn’t. He grunted and landed an elbow down the middle of the smaller man’s back, making him loosen his hold.
The big guy bent and grabbed the other guy by the front of his shirt, lifting him to his feet. Blair swore she saw him smile before he hit the guy in the face—blood splattered from the crushed nose, painting the snow crimson.
The other two men rushed toward the pair. Finally breaking out of her stupor, she pulled her Glock from her bag.
“Stop right there, assholes,” she yelled, moving so they could see she held the gun steady.
They both pinwheeled, arms and legs spinning to get traction. One of the men fell on his ass. “Don’t shoot,” came from both men.
“I won’t unless you make me.” She glanced over her shoulder, watching the scene unfold. The man who showed up like an avenging angel glared at her, then at the bleeding idiot on the ground.
“If you had a gun, why the fuck didn’t you have it out?” he growled.
Her eyes narrowed. “It was in my bag. I wasn’t expecting to get jumped.”
His hands went to his hips. “Always expect to get jumped when you look like that and work at a fucking bar.”
She sucked in a breath, feeling the little spark of hope die. Whoever this gorgeous stranger was, he’d been the first to make her want a man, like really want one in forever. Yet there he stood, treating her as if she were some worthless hoe bag.
Like her mother treated her all those years ago.
“Fuck you very much,” she snarled.
“Listen, we’re sorry for the miscommunication. Can we leave and pretend this didn’t happen?”
Blair wanted to hiss at the loser in front of her. Holding him and the others hostage wouldn’t do her any good. She didn’t know the three men. They were obviously from out of state since the plates on their truck weren’t local. “Don’t come back here ever again. You won’t be welcome.”
“Take your trash with you,” the big guy said, giving the one on the ground a shove with his foot, then helped him up with another slight kick to the side.
Blair moved out of the way of the jerk’s stumbling form.
She and her crew stood with the stranger and watched the assholes get into their vehicle and drive away. The back tires fishtailed out of the parking lot, catching on solid ground just before they lost control at the intersection. Blair released a huge gust of air she’d been holding, glad they hadn’t wrecked. The last damn thing she wanted to do was make a call to the local sheriff’s office about their stupid asses.
“Thanks for your assistance,” Fred said, moving to shake the asshole's hand.
She growled when she saw the man stare at Fred like he was dirt beneath his feet. “Let’s go, Fred. I’ll give you a lift.”
Her friend opened his mouth to tell her he could take himself home, she was sure, but one look at her face and he closed his trap. Smart man.
BEKKETT KNEW HE FUCKEDup when he opened his mouth and spewed shit about the feisty woman and basically said she was to blame. Fuck, he didn’t know what was wrong with him. She oozed sex and sweet girl next door, a combo that had his dick hard and his protective instincts on high alert.
The first time he caught sight of the little bartender, he’d thought he’d seen a ghost. His wife had been a petite bombshell with long red hair and snapping green eyes. Their friends called them the giant and the sprite. She’d hated it. Hell, by the end of their relationship, Nancy hated just about everything about him. If it hadn’t been for their daughter, he was sure she’d have—Bekkett cut off his thoughts, knowing he’d spiral down a path he didn’t want or need to go.
“Hey, man. Sorry about that. You got any self-defense training?” he asked Fred, ignoring the daggers being thrown at him by the sexy blonde. While Nancy had been a redhead, the woman before him had blonde hair that looked softer than silk. His hands itched to touch it, to see if it was as soft and thick as it looked. The last year he and Nancy were together, her hair started to fall out and became dirtier more often than it had been clean. Fuck. He shook his head, hating the memories that being home brought up.
