Kevin’s turning deep red now. His eyes bulge as he claws uselessly at Luke’s arm. His feet scrabble in the snow. But Luke’s hold is ironclad, and he’s not even breathing hard.
Luke leans down and very calmly murmurs something directly into Kevin’s ear. His voice is too low for anyone else to hear, but whatever he says makes Kevin’s entire body go rigid.
The crowd has gotten quieter, sensing something has shifted.
And then Kevin nods.
Luke releases him.
Kevin collapses forward, hands on his knees, gasping in huge, wheezing breaths.
Then, without a word, without even looking at Luke or anyone else, he turns and slinks toward his truck, shoulders hunched.
If he was a dog, his tail would be between his legs.
The crowd parts for him, some people snickering, others just staring.
His truck door slams. The engine roars to life. Gravel sprays as he peels out of the parking lot way too fast.
The crowd starts to disperse, people heading back inside, their excited chatter filling the air.
My dad saunters over, a toothpick between his teeth, and the remaining crowd parts for him like he’s Moses and they’re the Red Sea. He stops in front of Luke, looking him up and down.
“Problem?” he asks.
“Not anymore, sir,” Luke says.
Dad gives him a long, assessing look. Then, finally: “Good.”
It’s high praise from him. Practically a medal of honor.
Dad catches my eye as he wanders back inside and gives me a look that seems to say,not too pretty to be a bouncer after all, eh?
I shake my head, my heart still racing, and rush over to Luke.
I put my hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
“Areyou?”
“Of course. I’m not the one who just got in an altercation with a three-hundred-pound human refrigerator.”
His eyes darken, something fierce flickering behind them. “He touched you.”
The way he says it—low, controlled, still angry—sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold.
“I have my ways of dealing with that,” I say.
“Do you, now?"
“I was about to dump a drink down his shirt,” I explain. “Accidentally, of course.”
“Of course,” he repeats, and there’s the ghost of a smile now. He’s examining my face closely, like he’s checking for injuries, for signs of distress.
Seeing that I’m okay clearly relaxes him. His shoulders drop slightly. His jaw unclenches.
“But I don’t mind your way, either,” I add, reaching up and brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes.
Every muscle in his body seems to go still.
