Never Kiss a Bad Boy

The music suddenly exploded, turning into applause. Skirt-Girl slowed down, acting like she was watching the stage, but I knew better. This game and I were old friends.

Running a hand through my hair, I smiled at her until she glanced my way. It's funny, we hadn't said hello, but I'd had my erection on her ass for several minutes. “Hey,” I said, nodding at the band. “I think they're finishing their set. Come take a break with me, get some air.”

Cocking her head, Skirt made a show of toying with the top of her halter. “How about you buy me a drink first?”

I wasn't surprised by her request. Try-Hards sometimes want you to buy them something before they'll sleep with you. It's an exhausting ritual, but what did I care? Cash was never a problem for me, I'd had it in spades my whole life.

“Sure, I'll be right back, Sugar. What do you want?”

Her eyes darted down, fixing on the front of my jeans for a long second. Oh, she was good. “A beer is fine. For now.”

For now.

Jeez. Try-Hards are seriously the best.

“Beer. Not a problem, you just hang here.” My smile touched my eyes, then I was off. I knew where the nearest vendor selling alcohol was, I'd already chugged a bottle down when I'd first arrived. The problem was that they were as far from the stage as you could get.

Shoving around dancing groups and chatting people, I beat a path towards the drink stand. It was past ten, the sky a rich blue-black that would never be truly dark, not with all of the city's light pollution.

The edge of the park had a few tall lamps, the people thinning until I didn't feel like I was being crushed in a tuna can. Most folks wanted to be near the stage, so the fringe was almost empty in comparison.

There, I thought, walking towards the small table in the distance. Buy some beer and hurry the fuck back before little miss Skirt finds another cock to ride.

“Get the fuck away from her!” A voice shouted out from my right. On instinct, I turned to look.

Just down the grassy hill, away from the crowds, there was a woman. Reddish hair, black pants, a surprisingly demure cream colored top and appropriate jacket for the weather. Pretty. Normal. But the situation she was in wasn't normal at all.

She had her hands on a man's arm, yanking at him to get him away from...

Oh, shit.

There was another girl, and she was kneeling on the grass at the guy's feet, doubled over like she'd taken a punch. Had that guy actually hit her?

“I said get away from her!” The red head was pulling at the man. There was no hint of fear, even though he could easily break her damn skull. Her short black heels dug into the ground. She meant business.

What was going on? And why was no one else doing anything?

Not my problem, I told myself, glancing at the drink stand. Visions of Skirt-Girl danced in my head. Her plump lips, her perky ass, her—

“I'm calling the cops, you son of a—Aaah!”

Red was a damn ghost to me, I had no clue who she was. Regardless, when I heard her scream, I bolted down that hill at breakneck-speed.

His fingers were crushing her forearms, turning the skin bloodless. Seconds before I careened into the group, I saw Red's face. Instead of terrified about how he was ready to split her in two, she was pissed this guy had dared to touch her.

Who was this woman?

Grabbing the man's shoulders, I yanked him to me, forcing him to release Red. Then, before he could get his balance, I shoved him away violently. He stumbled, catching himself at the last second.

“Hey, Fuck-Head!” I shouted, cracking my knuckles. “What the hell are you doing to these two?”

I wasn't some breed of hero; this was none of my business. But no one else had stepped up.

How could I sit back and watch?

The big guy stomped forward, eyeballing me—sizing me up. “This isn't your problem, buddy. Why don't you get out of here before you get hurt?”

I knew he could see the muscles through my tight shirt and open jacket. I'd dressed to impress the ladies, but it also warned the world that I was no push-over.

If this guy thought I'd be an easy mark, he was dead wrong.

Standing taller, I flashed my best smile. “A lovely woman in a skimpy skirt is waiting for me to return, and you just cock-blocked that plan. Someone has to pay for that, might as well be the asshole beating on his girlfriend.”

To my left, Red made a face. “I'm not his girlfriend, and neither is she.”

“You're both single? Good to know.” I blessed her with a quick smirk. The way her eyes widened had my heart beating faster.

Unfortunately, I had other priorities.

The big asshole lifted his chin, chest puffed out like a rooster. “Last chance, get lost or get ready to collect your teeth off the grass. Hope you have a good dentist.”

“Holy shit,” I laughed. “Did you really just say that? Like, actually say that out loud?”

Lines crawled across the bridge of his nose, a snarl if I'd ever seen one. Talking this out was a failure. I'd already figured it would be. Any guy that'd attack a woman had to be short-tempered.

Nora Flite's books