More people crowded around now, including his teammates, who’d each taken one of the shithead dudes and held them back. It was part of their bro code—if a buddy is outnumbered, outmanned, or too drunk to defend himself, you must jump into the fight. He was probably all three of the above. Now it was a bench-clearing brawl and there was no way any of these other guys was going to get the best of them.
“You guys are outta here,” Rupper yelled. “I own this place. Stop this shit right now!”
Duncan gave the guy he was fighting with a shove away from him and stepped back, hands in the air. Three guys were on the floor, and a few others who were wrestling also stopped.
Elliott, the manager Rupper’d hired to run the place, appeared.
“What the hell?” Elliott shouted. “Do I need to call the cops?”
“No need for the cops,” Duncan said. “Sorry, Elliott.”
“We got it, man,” Rupper told his manager. “Jesus Christ.”
“He started it!” the asshole who’d grabbed Amber yelled.
“What are you, two?” Duncan snorted dismissively. “You put your hands on a lady. I told you to stop. Your asshole friends rushed me. Phht.”
Things got sorted out. The guys paid their tab, chairs were righted, the table cleared. Amber had picked up her tray and disappeared.
Duncan searched the room for her, and spotted her behind the bar, looking very unhappy. He made his way over there.
“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
She gave him a dirty look that he couldn’t fail to recognize as contempt. “I’m fine.”
His gaze dropped to her hands, which were trembling as she reached for a glass. “Are you sure? You got punched in the face.” He paused. “By shit-for-brains.”
She touched her left cheekbone. “It wasn’t hard. It startled me more than anything. I’m fine. Go on back to your friends.” Disdain edged her words. “You did not need to do that.”
“I was helping you.”
She shook her head, her pretty mouth tight. “I don’t need help. I can look after myself. There was no need to start a brawl and make a big scene.”
“I didn’t start it,” he protested. “I was just trying to get you away from that jerk. And tell him to apologize.”
“I could have handled it myself.” She took a deep breath. “Look. I just got this job. I don’t need to get fired for starting a brawl.”
“It wasn’t your fault!” Jesus, he’d tried to do a good deed, and what the fuck, she was pissed off at him? And how the hell was she going to handle it while the guy had her on his lap and his hands all over her? “And you’re not going to lose your job. Rupper won’t fire you over that.”
“Apparently he’s a friend of yours. You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“Uh…it didn’t come up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
He paused, studying her. “I was about to come over and see if you’d go out with me when that happened.”
She paused and blinked her long eyelashes.
“It was fun talking to you earlier,” he continued, his heart rate picking up speed. “We could go for dinner…or something.”
“Are you kidding?” Her eyes widened. “I can’t go out with you! Just go away. I want to finish my shift without any more free-for-alls breaking out, take my tips, and go home.”
Heat rose from beneath his shirt and up into his face. Well, shit and damn. He shouldn’t have said anything. “Okay, then.” He turned away.
“Wait.”
His heart gave a leap and he turned back.
“You’re bleeding.” She gestured at his face. “Here.” She grabbed a clean white towel, ran it under water at a sink behind the bar, then reached across to dab his face.
He leaned in closer to let her do it, the towel stinging his cut lip, but that was easy to ignore when she was so close and smelled so good and her pretty eyes were focused on his mouth. That was hot. Again, damn.
Why was she so pissed at him?
“There.” She drew back, not meeting his eyes.
“Thanks.” With one last long look at her, he reluctantly turned and made his way back to the table, where the guys were the center of attention from the puck bunnies who’d joined them, all impressed with how they’d taken those guys on and stopped the fight.
He needed another drink, like, now. Jesus. Women. What the fuck. He’d never understand them. He’d thought he was done with them before? Now he was really done.
Jenny, another waitress working that night, approached their table and he ordered one more beer, then sat there morosely drinking it while the others partied away.
He was definitely drunk. Maybe his judgment had been a little impaired. He wasn’t one to go around starting bar fights. Even on the ice, he wasn’t exactly known as an instigator. He didn’t back down if it needed to happen and he’d occasionally started something, but not often. The last time he’d scrapped off the ice was the night he’d come home early and found his best friend and his little sister sneaking out of his bathroom naked. Jesus fuck. That had nearly blown the top of his head off, and he’d actually thrown down with his best friend.