A small shudder shakes her body, which makes me feel like punching Phil all over again. “I’m okay,” she replies quietly. “He didn’t hurt me.”
But he must have. I didn’t imagine her cry of pain as she hit the floor.
“What’s going on?” Frank comes jogging out of the kitchen, holding a baseball bat. “I heard yelling. What happened?” Then he spots Angel hugging herself, and his expression shifts from worry to fatherly concern. “Angel, honey, what happened? Did you?—”
“He pushed her,” I interrupt. “This asshole”—I shove Phil against the wall—“pushed Angel, and she fell.”
“What?” His voice dips. With an angry glare at Phil, he asks, “You pushed her? Touched her? One of my employees? A woman, no less? And you pushed her? Hurt her?”
Phil flinches. “I…”
“Jeff!” Frank turns to Jeff, who finally got his ass out from behind the bar to help. “Call the police.”
“I didn’t want to get in the way,” Jeff replies. “Ronan looked like he had it under control?—”
Frank cuts him off. “I don’t care. Just call the cops. And you guys—” He casts an angry look at Phil’s buddies. “This isn’t the first time you’ve caused trouble. But it ends today. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“Hey, what happened?” Max Ellicott, a good friend and owner of the car repair shop in town, comes jogging over. “I heard shouting as I was walking by.” He glances at Phil, then Angel, and anger suffuses his face. “Did hehurther?”
“He pushed her,” I tell him. And I’m desperate to see if she’s really okay. “Can you watch him? Until the police come?” I tilt my chin at Angel. “I want to check?—”
Max straightens to his full height of six-six. “Of course I can.”
Once Max has taken over—and I’m not worried about Phil trying anything with Max, since Max has at least fifty pounds of muscle on him—I hurry over to Angel.
She’s still standing against the wall, hugging herself.
And shit. The urge to hold her is almost irresistible.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Shit. Of course you’re not okay. Where are you hurt? Your back? Your legs? Did you hit your arm?”
“I’m fine,” she replies. But she’s clearly not fine. Her complexion is still far too pale. Her pulse is fluttering at the base of her neck. And her pupils are dilated.
“You’re not fine.” Emotion makes my voice rougher than I intended. Looping an arm around her shoulder, I lead her away from Phil and his asshole friends. “He touched you. Scared you. He hurt you, Angel. None of that is okay.”
She tilts her head back to look up at me. “He scared me a little,” she admits. “But I was more surprised than anything else. My butt—” A touch of pink colors her cheeks. “I’ve got some padding. So I didn’t really get hurt.”
“It’s not okay,” I repeat stubbornly. “And.. shit. I’m sorry. I should have done something sooner. I knew they were trouble. I just… Fuck.”
I’m mad at Phil. I’m mad at his friends. I’m mad at Jeff for continuing to serve them beer. I’m mad at Frank for allowing Angel to be in this kind of situation. And I’m mad at myself for not stepping in sooner.
Angel touches my hand. “I’m really okay, Ronan. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry.
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?
I can’t stop.
Not worrying. Not thinking about her. Not wanting to touch her. Not wanting…
Shit.
The last of my self-control snaps, and I pull Angel into my arms.
She’s stiff for a second, but then she leans into me. Her arms snake around my waist. The top of her head brushes my chin.
She smells like cupcakes.
