Because here I am on a Friday night, in a crazy-ass townie bar, having some random beer and being brave, all by myself. Two weeks ago, I was cooped up hiding in the apartment, popping anxiety pills like candy, desperate to stop feeling the tension and fear that came with almost every encounter I had with Roger. Wishing I could make him happy, knowing that something had to change because I was reaching my breaking point.
Two weeks ago, the big incident happened that pushed my life in this new direction.
“Hey, sweetness,” a voice says right in my ear from out of nowhere. I slide around on my stool and see a short, stocky man with a neck like a football linebacker. His brows are a dark slash on his forehead and he’s eyeing me greedily. I can smell beer on his breath. “You here alone?”
I give him a polite smile and try to find a way to give him a nice brush-off. “Just enjoying a beer before I head back home, thanks.” I start to turn back toward the bar when his hand slides along my lower back and grips my side. The intimacy of the gesture makes my skin crawl.
“My name’s Dan. I haven’t seen you in here before. You’re gorgeous.” Dan moves closer until there’s barely an inch between us.
I lean back. Dan may be short, but he’s built and strong. And after seeing that earlier fight, I’m trying to figure out the best way to blow him off without ending up in a bad situation. I wiggle away from his hand and put my beer mug on the bar. “That’s nice of you. I’m new here and just trying to enjoy some quiet time.”
“What’s your name?” he presses.
My pulse picks up. I’m so not in the mood to deal with a pushy guy. “I really want to be left alone right now.”
Dan’s brow furrows and he frowns. “What are you, some kind of snobby bitch? I’m just being nice.” He moves closer again, and I can see red rimming his bloodshot eyes. He’s really drunk. His gaze is barely focused on me. “I can be real nice, baby. Make you feel right at home.” Those hands reach out again to grab my waist and he yanks me off the stool, tugs me flush against him. I feel his hardness pressing against me, and a rush of panic floods my system.
My heart thrums. I try to pry myself out of his grip, but he’s too strong. “Let me go,” I tell him in the firmest tone I can manage.
“Just relax,” Dan breathes against me, and the warm beer breath puffing on my face makes my stomach turn. “You don’t have to be so uptight. Have some fun with me, huh.”
I’m in full-blown panic mode, about to let out a scream.
Then suddenly, he’s jerked back, his hands releasing me. I stagger in response to the sudden freedom, and see Smith gripping Dan’s shirt at the throat, and then Smith’s fist slams into Dan’s face with a sickening crunch.
Dan’s head whips back, blood gushing out of his nose. His hands fly up to cup the injured part. “What the fuck?” he cries out.
The whole room has gone quiet, so Smith doesn’t have to yell. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back to my bar. Ever.”
His bar. He’s not the bartender—Smith owns Outlaws.
With his face obscured by his hands, blood pouring out between his fingers, Dan staggers his way outside and disappears into the night.
My heart is beating so hard I’m sure Smith can see it when his laser focus turns to me. I open my mouth to thank him for intervening, even if his method was a little…barbaric… but he speaks first, cutting me off.
“You okay?” He looks me over, his hot eyes raking my entire body. I feel myself flush in response.
The excitement of yet another fight peaks and subsides, and the bar goes back to its regular action. All in a day’s work, I suppose.
I nod. “Um. Yes. Thank you.”
“You should leave, too.”
“Wait, what?” I blink in surprise. He’s kicking me out, for real? “What did I do? He’s the one who—”
“Sweetheart, this place isn’t for you.” Smith takes a step toward me, and I can smell his rich, spicy scent. My pulse kicks up again, this time in a sheer sexual response. He stares down at me hard. “Outlaws is too rough for someone like you.” I see the moment his eyes fill with dismissal. Just like that, he’s deemed me too soft, too delicate. “Try Foley’s Sports Bar at the other end of town. They’re better suited for you.”
Smith walks away and goes back to his place behind the bar. The girl who was flirting with him eyes me, shakes her head with a little smirk of pity, then turns her attention to Smith, reaching over to stroke the back of his neck.
My entire face burns with anger, with embarrassment. How dare he treat me like that? He doesn’t know what I’ve gone through. He thinks I’m just some scared little girl, but I’m not. I set my jaw, slide back into my stool, and face my beer again.
Fuck that. I’m not leaving here, at least not until I finish my drink. Smith just threw a big, fat challenge my way, and I’ll be damned if I cave. I’m not slinking away with my tail between my legs.