“How do you know so much about my life?” I ask.
He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a small town. People talk.”
“People talk about where I am on a Tuesday afternoon.”
“People talk about Mica’s Sons and Vulture’s granddaughter,” he says. “After that fancy wedding with hundreds of guests, you’re the most interesting thing to happen around here in a while. But the thing is, you were supposed to happen to me, not him.” He takes another half step. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m trying to tell you that you have options. You don’t have to stay in a bad situation because a will said you had to get married. I can help you.”
“You need to leave me alone, Devon,” I plead.
He reaches for me. “Nova, you’re not listening.”
I’m just about to have a panic attack when I hear Mica’s deep voice echo through the store.
“She said leave, asshole. So how’s about you get the hell out of her face and stop stressin’ her?”
Mica comes around behind him and doesn’t slow down. Devon turns just in time to catch a fist to the face from Mica. When Devon falls back on his ass with what looks like a broken nose, Mica’s hand closes on the front of his jacket and he punches him again for good measure. Mica’s fists are fast and mean business. Devon didn’t see it coming because it was just brute force out of nowhere. Mica looks at him with a blank expression.
Devon tries to shove his hand off, but Mica doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans close and when he speaks his voice is low enough that I have to strain to hear it.
“That’s the preview,” Mica says. “You come near her again and I finish it. Are we clear?”
Devon’s jaw locks. He’s not a small man, but he’s also not stupid enough to test Mica after being laid out on his ass. Finally, he answers, “Yeah, we’re clear,” he says.
Mica jerks Devon to his feet and gives him a big push backwards before letting go of his jacket. While Devon is straightening his jacket, Mica literally turns his back on him. It’s meant as a humiliation, a way of saying he doesn’t consider Devon a threat.
Devon looks at me once, something I can’t quite identify moves through his expression. And then he puts one foot in front of the other and walks away.
Mica picks up a can that rolled across the floor during their altercation and places it back on the shelf.
Glancing over his shoulder, he asks, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” I say, meaning it. My heart is hammering in my chest, but I grew up in a world where men handle things this way. I’ve always known what it looks like. What I hadn’t known until now is what Mica is capable of. If I’d ever thought for a second that he was the weaker brother, he just proved me wrong.
“I still need veggies to go with the steak,” I tell him, trying to sound as normal as possible.
Mica immediately turns and gathers up an armful of miscellaneous veggies and dumps them into my basket.
“There you go. Are we good?”
“Yes. Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”
A hint of a smile ghosts across his face and he wraps one arm around me as we go back to get our meat. We don’t talkabout Devon again until we’re outside. Mica takes the grocery bag without asking and puts it into the back floorboard.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen him in person since you broke up?”
I nod as he starts the engine. “Yeah. It freaked me out more than I thought it would. I think he’s been watching me,” I say. “Not in a stalking way. Just paying attention to what he sees and listening to local gossip. Apparently, we’re interesting in some way.”
“Yeah,” Mica says. “It’s because you’re beautiful and I’m so fuckin’ dashing.”
My head turns to look at him. “Dashing? What are you, eighty?”
“No, but I’ll be twice as dashing when I’m eighty,” he deadpans back. “You should stick around for it.”
Somehow Mica’s dry humor always makes me feel better.
“He’s not going to stop,” I say. “He was getting ready to put his hands on me. The only thing that stopped him was you bringing him up short. Nothing I said mattered to him.”
“Yeah, because he’s a fuckin’ absolute nutjob,” Mica responds coolly. “He’s not gonna stop and that’s too bad for him.”
