Then Seth drives into him, tackling him low.
They hit the pavement hard, rolling right there on the sidewalk in front of the dark shopfront, grunting and swearing as elbows and fists and knees land wherever they can. Tanner claws for Seth’s collar like he wants to choke him, like he’s not satisfied unless he’s hurting someone.
“You think you can touch what’s mine?” Tanner snarls, breath ragged. “That you can take her from me?”
“She’s not—” Seth grits out, and he headbutts Tanner.
The crack is sickening.
Tanner jerks back with a curse. Seth twists, hooks a leg, flips them with rough force, and suddenly Tanner is pinned beneath him on the concrete, Seth’s forearm across his chest, fist drawn back.
For a drunk man, he also looks like he might not stop.
Tanner coughs a laugh, eyes glassy and vicious. “Do it,” he taunts. “Bet she likes you better when you’re violent.”
My stomach turns.
“Seth!” I shout, stepping closer, limping slightly. “Look at me. Seth!”
His head jerks, just a fraction. His eyes flick to my scraped hands, the way I’m standing wrong.
Something shifts. Not soft. Not gentle.
Focused.
His fist loosens a little. His breathing stays heavy, chest heaving, but his gaze drops back to Tanner. “You put your hands on her again,” Seth warns, voice low and rough with restraint, “and I’ll break something you can’t fix with a wrench.”
Tanner spits blood onto the sidewalk and grins like it’s a prize. “Look at you, ridin’ in like some damn hero,” he slurs, eyes mean and glossy. “She ain’t yours, rodeo boy. She don’t want you. Hell, she?—”
Seth hits him.
It’s one hard, ugly punch right to the mouth. The sound snaps through the quiet street like a firecracker. Tanner grunts and goes slack for a second, head turning with the impact, jaw working like it doesn’t know what to do anymore. I flinch because it’s brutal… and then my stomach twists with a guilty little jolt of satisfaction, because Tanner finally shut up.
Seth stays over him for a beat, breathing hard, still a touch unsteady from the booze, eyes bright and wild like he’s fighting the part of himself that wants to keep going. Then he shoves off of him and stands, swaying slightly. He looks down at Tanner like he’s something he scraped off his boot, and he delivers a sharp kick to Tanner’s ribs—enough to make the point without turning it into a trip to the hospital. Tanner curls in with a pathetic wheeze, hands clutching his side, and I have to press my lips together to keep from grinning.
“Learn some fucking manners,” Seth blurts out, brushing off his jeans like Tanner was a mild inconvenience. His voice has that slow cowboy bite to it, even now. “?’Specially around women. You hear me, or you need me to spell it out?”
Then he turns to me, and it’s like a switch flips. The cold violence drops away, and what’s left is plain concern, the kind that flutters in my chest. He’s at my side in two strides, one hand gentle on my elbow, the other hovering at my back like he’s ready to catch me. “You all right, darlin’?” he asks, eyes searching mine. “You hurt? Let me see them hands.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because my palms sting and my hip throbs, but the bigger problem is that a rodeo star I barely know just stood up for me like it was the easiest decision in the world. I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “We need to go. Right now.”
Seth glances past me, just once, toward Tanner trying to drag breath through his own ego. His jaw tightens, then he nods and shifts his body so he’s between me and the mess, guiding me down the sidewalk like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “All right,” he murmurs.
I unlock the car with shaking hands and yank open the passenger door. “Get in.”
Seth folds himself into my little sedan, squished in, his head brushing the roof, but he manages. I slam the door and run around to the driver’s side, my heart pounding. One last glance at Tanner, and I grin as he groans in pain. Then I hop inside.
The engine catches on the first turn. Thank God. Thank hell.
I yank away from the curb like the devil himself is reaching for my bumper, tires squealing as the truck lurches forward. My hands are still shaking on the wheel.
That fight was a really, really bad idea.
I blow out a breath that comes out half laugh, half sob. “Okay. I shouldn’t say this because it makes me a terrible person and I’m supposed to be mature now, but… thank hell you punched that asshole.”
“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he says.
“I’m serious,” I keep going, because my mouth is running faster than my brain can catch it. Adrenaline does that to me, turns me into a talking sprinkler. “I mean, I’m notthankfulthat you got into a fight in the middle of the main street at two in the morning, because that is… criminal behavior, but he deserved it so much.” I glance at Seth.
