“I’m guessing he’d beg to differ.”
She just rolled her eyes and walked away. He went back to tending the bar alongside Randy, but he kept an eye on the situation. The crowd was a happy crowd, but he could tell by the vibe if a punch was thrown the place was going to get really rowdy really fast.
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the big spender at table twelve put his arm around Paulie’s hips and tried to pull her onto his lap. When he got the slushy ice from the bottom of his not-quite-empty pitcher of beer instead, he launched out of his chair with a roar of anger.
Kevin was only halfway across the bar, Louisville Slugger in hand, when the asshole put his hands on Paulie’s shoulders and shoved. She had to backpedal, but she didn’t go down.
It didn’t matter. Jasper’s erupted in outrage. Besides the basic fact a man didn’t put his hands on a woman in anger, Paulie was a particular favorite with the regulars.
Unfortunately for Twelve, Sam reached him before Kevin did. Kevin might be the one with the bat, but he was a lot less likely to swing. Sam, on the other hand, spun the guy around and plowed his fist into the guy’s face.
Twelve folded like a napkin, but his buddies were on their feet, ready to jump in. A trio of local college boys came in swinging and the table collapsed with a crash under the weight of two brawlers. Kevin shouted, but anybody who actually heard him over the melee ignored him.
Paulie, being a smart woman, had taken refuge behind a couple of cement workers who looked like they could change a flat tire on their truck without a jack. Over in the corner a smaller brawl broke out for no apparent reason other than what the hell, why not?
Twelve was back on his feet and, because Sam was looking around for Paulie, he managed to land one hell of a sucker punch. Sam stayed on his feet, but he’d had his bell rung and only the fact Twelve got bumped from behind kept him from throwing the knockout punch. Sam regrouped enough to throw a mean right hook and Twelve staggered.
When he saw one of the frat boys lifting a chair as a weapon, Kevin decided enough was enough. He put two fingers in his mouth and let loose a whistle that probably made every dog within a ten-mile radius whine. Everybody froze. “No cops if it ends right now.”
Twelve wasn’t too steady on his feet, but that didn’t stop him from running his mouth, though the swelling lip didn’t help. “What’s this guy’s problem?”
Kevin pointed the Louisville Slugger at him. “You get the hell out of my bar. If I ever see you in here again, I’ll bust your kneecaps up so bad you’ll need a new couch ’cause your legs’ll bend the wrong way.”
Twelve and his buddies, who hadn’t fared well at the hands of the college boys, made a big show of grumbling, but they headed out the door. Without dropping any cash on the table first, of course. Jasper’s would be eating that bill, along with the table and busted glasses.
As he relocated some of his patrons to a more intact section of the bar so he and Darcy could start cleaning up, he saw Paulie practically dragging Sam toward the door to the back hall. No doubt she’d been snapped out of her funk now, as the poor guy was probably about to discover.
With the excitement over and everybody resettled, Kevin got a couple of buckets and exchanged the baseball bat for a broom and dustpan. The mindless cleanup would be good for him. Give him time to dwell on how he was going to convince Beth she wanted to work for him.
***
Paulie slammed her apartment door behind Sam and shoved him toward her couch. “You’re an idiot.”
“I missed you, too.”
“What the hell were you trying to prove down there?”
He leaned back against the couch, watching her as she went to rummage through her freezer. She should have grabbed some ice from the bar, but she was so focused on getting him upstairs before he did anything else stupid, she didn’t think of it. She had a bag of frozen French fries, though, for days when she wanted something even worse for her than the hand-cut fries served downstairs.
She walked over and slapped it in his hand. “Use this.”
He very gingerly pressed the bag to his face, wincing. “It did hurt, you know.”
“I’m sure it did. The entire right side of your face is turning black-and-blue.”
“No, not that. Well, yes that hurt. But I mean when you left. You said if you thought I’d have been more hurt than embarrassed you never would have run in the first place. It hurt.”
“Your pride maybe,” she muttered because she’d rather pick a fight than go near a conversation that dug down into how they really felt.
It was one thing when his blackmail scheme was a game. Maybe they’d hang out, hit the sheets a few times. The fact she might still have some feelings for him was an unpleasant surprise. Him still having feelings for her would be downright worst-case scenario.