She’s walking those drinks over when three men enter, and I can feel Bailey freeze on the spot before I even turn to look at her. All traces of playfulness on her melt away, the angle of her jaw changing as she sets it.
“Little sis!” Aaron Jansen calls out as he pulls a seat up at one of the round high tops just beyond the bar. “Get us a round on the house.”
Bailey keeps her distance but gives her head a little shake, as though that could clear the tension from her body. “Sorry guys, I’ve already done last call. It’s past midnight. That’s the rule.”
“Come on. What’s the point in having a sister who works here if we can’t get some special treatment?”
I drop my head low, trying to blend in as an unsuspecting regular. I don’t want to start more shit for Bailey, and her brothers and I are not on good terms. Not from when we were younger, and not from the time I recently took part in toilet papering their tractor with Cade and Rhett.
It rained that night, and I imagine picking wet toilet paper off of their tractor wasn’t a good time. Still, they deserved it. And that was fun.
I smile at the memory.
“Sorry, guys.” Bailey approaches her brothers’ table with caution, like she doesn’t want to get close to them but also doesn’t want a scene with the other patrons in the bar. “Not tonight. Management has set later hours for Thursday through Saturday, so try back then.”
The oldest Jansen brother, Lance, tips his head back with a groan. “Bailey, come on. We even brought a friend from out of town. Told him you’d take care of us tonight. Seth, this is our little sister, Bailey. Always a bit of a stick in the mud, if you ask me.”
My spine straightens, and I glance over my shoulder. The third guy is leering at Bailey in a blatant and unsettling way.
At least I leer at her subtly and beat myself up about it afterward. This guy has no such boundaries.
“Come on, honey. You take care of me, and I’ll take care of you.”
My heart rate ratchets up a few notches as I continue appraising the situation out of the corner of my eye. The other table of four is pretending not to watch, but it’s quiet in the bar tonight, so it’s a hard confrontation to miss. When the Jansens roll past, everyone stares because there’s usually some sort of spectacle not far behind.
I shift on my stool and use the mug as cover to take another long look at what’s unfolding at my four o’clock.
But I freeze at the top of that motion because whoever the fuck Seth is has taken the liberty of sliding his palm over the curve of Bailey’s ass, fingers curving inward below her cheek.
I promised her I wouldn’t make any more scenes at her bar.
But I’m about to break that promise.
Because gawking at her while watching porn is bad enough. But laying a single fucking finger on her without her consent?
That’s a death wish.
5
Bailey
I don’t know what startles me first. The feeling of an unwanted hand taking a firm grab of my ass or the crash of glass against the floor.
“Remove your fucking hand. Or I’ll do it for you.” Beau’s voice is lower than usual, quieter. More menacing.
I lurch away from the table, shaken, cheeks hot, and realizing shit could be about to go bad. I don’t know who Seth is, but if my brothers are here to wine and dine him, chances are he’s not a good dude.
All it takes is a few long strides for Beau to be towering over Seth. His lean wrist twists in Beau’s impossibly big hand, and a high-pitched squeal spills from his lips.
“Let go!” one of my brothers shouts. I’m not sure which one, because I’m too busy staring down at the heavily corded arm that’s extended across my body like a barrier. Protecting me. And his touch is nothing like the hand that was on me before.
His touch soothes.
A screeching sound draws my attention across the bar as chairs drag across the floor. It’s my last patrons. They abandon their final round of drinks, dropping their cash and scurrying out. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of whatever is clearly about to go down.
It hits me as I watch the situation unfold in slow motion that it doesn’t matter if it’s one against three. Beau was special forces.
“Let go?” His tone is smooth and eerily unaffected. This clash should feel chaotic, but Beau is the eye of the storm. “I could drop you with one touch.”
This man, who’s been calmly sitting at my bar night after night, is in his element. His gray eyes, all polished silver, are heated and … excited.
“Make a single move and I’ll snap this fucker’s wrist like a twig.”
Beau has spent years portraying himself as a happy-go-lucky goofball and it’s at this exact moment I realize that was part of his cover. Part of how he protects everyone he loves from the fact this is who he is.
Beau is lethal.
“Hey, hey, hey. Relax, relax.” Aaron’s hands go up like someone is pointing a gun at him. I suppose, given the number of times he’s been arrested, it’s a natural position for him. “It’s all in good fun.”
Beau’s head tilts. His eyes narrow. He looks every bit the predator he is. And when Seth tries to wind up to hit him, Beau twists his hand incrementally, dropping him to his knees with a wail of pain.
Aaron shifts in his seat, licking his lips, eyes volleying between Beau and Seth. Lance is too fucked-up to react to the situation. I can tell by the size of his pupils, by the way he’s slumped against the table like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
I grew up learning to recognize that posture and then hiding from it.
“My idea of fun is breaking this asshole’s wrist. How about yours?”
“You already broke it!” Seth wails, losing his menacing demeanor from mere seconds ago.
Beau doesn’t even give Seth the gift of his gaze; instead, he keeps his eyes locked on my brothers. “Nah, you’re fine. If I broke it, I would have felt it snap. You’ll hear it when it does.”
“Okay.” Aaron shoots me a scowl before getting up and backing away from Beau. He taps Lance on the shoulder, urging him to move. “We’re gonna head out. Find another bar.”
Beau nods, dipping his chin to an impossibly broad chest, one that barely moves as though he’s stopped breathing altogether. “Perfect. I’ll walk you fellas out.”
And he does. Literally. With Seth’s brutalized wrist in his grip, he walks him out like a dog on a leash. My brothers stay ahead of them, checking back over their shoulders with both fear and rage painting their features.
No one has ever walked in acting like they rule the fucking world and then left looking so disgraced.
Looking so weak.
Beau tosses them out the big, heavy doors, then yanks them shut and flips the deadbolt.
He turns back around, chin tipped up, shoulders pressed back. “You okay?”
I nod, not sure that I am. “That’s going to come back to haunt us,” I say, knowing my brothers and how they work. Flying under their radar has been my general tactic until I save enough money to go somewhere beyond their reach. Then I plan to just—poof—disappear and never speak to them again.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Beau grins as he walks back toward me. “I know, but it was really fun.”
He’s always been handsome, but the swagger right now, the glint in his eye … the way he leapt to my protection. He’s mouth-watering in a way that has heat pooling low in my belly. And for a beat, I let myself stare. I let myself bask in the knowledge he just blew up for me.
To protect me.
Then I glance away and get to cleaning up. Because fantasizing about Beau Eaton isn’t a productive use of my time. Especially when he’s so much older, hot enough to turn every head in this town—to set my skin on fire—and a hell of a lot more experienced than I am.
Which, to be fair, isn’t hard to be.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, I’m too amped up to sleep.