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“Cole.” I bite my lip. Tears start to form in my eyes. “Don’t.”
Cole’s gaze abandons the man and settles on me, softening. I inch closer. “Please, don’t punch anyone for me, Cole. You don’t need a criminal record.”
“Whore,” the man spits.
Just like that, Cole’s face ices over. He returns his attention to the man still pinned beneath his hand.
“What’d you call her?”
“You heard m—”
It happens fast. So fast I almost don’t believe it.
Cole turns and punches the asshole in the nose. There’s the crunch of bone, the gush of blood, then Wells smoothly steps to the door and opens it as Cole tosses Baseball Cap out on his ass.
“Free drinks,” Wells announces, and the gaping patrons let out a cheer.
Cole doesn’t say a word. He just takes my arm and marches me out of the tasting room. Tears start to fall from my eyes as he opens the office in the back and closes the door behind us.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I shake my head and sniffle, trying to rein in my tears, even as they roll down my cheeks. The last thing I want is drama for the distillery. “I can’t believe this happened.”
“Don’t apologize, you hear me?” Cole’s big hand closes around my wrist. “He had no business talking to you like that, Delilah. Touchin’ you.” He almost sounds tortured, agonized.
My heart trembles as Cole turns my wrist over in his big palm, examining the spot where the man had grabbed me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” His face darkens to a sternness that steals my breath. Tone demanding, he growls, “Because I think it’s damn time to tell me what you’re hidin’ from.”
28 Cole
I’m pissed.
Pissed off about the fact that I walked into the tasting room and found some motherfucker with his hands on Delilah. Pissed off that she stands in front of me, tears in her eyes and trembling.
No more bullshit. I get her story. Right now.
“Darlin’, I think it’s time you start talkin’.”
“I don’t want my photo out there.” Her eyes flutter shut.
“Why?”
Her voice is a breathless whisper. “The cops are looking for me.”
It’s what I thought. She’s on the run. I harden my expression when all I want to do is take her in my arms and hold her tight. I need her story first. “Did you hurt someone?”
Her eyes flash open. Hurt stains her pretty face. “No. It’s nothing like that.”
“Did someone hurt you?” When she nods, I grit my teeth and fight the boil of my blood. “He the someone who put those bruises on your face?”
“Yes.”
A growl vibrates my chest. “Are you in trouble?”
“I—I think so.”
The office door opens. Delilah jumps as Ezra pokes his head in. “Cole, what the fuck—”
