Chapter Two
Cyrus
“Where the hell were you, man? You said you were bringing back wings.” My buddy Brooks leans on the tall standing table to the left of the stage with a downturned expression. “I’m starving.”
“Sorry, they’re all out.”
“Bullshit. I saw you eating them with that woman in the booth.”
“You saw that?” I grin and lean against the back wall, attempting to focus on the band, though it’s not working.
“Yeah. What’s up with that?” Brooks and I have known each other for the better part of ten years. He’s a nice guy when you get to know him, but to most, he’s a known asshole. Also, he’s the official town planner. The guy who approves or denies projects and businesses that come to this mountain with a dream. I think the asshole thing makes it easier to say no to people.
“I don’t know. She was pretty, and I sat down.” It really was that simple. Her face was one that I couldn’t walk by and ignore.
“So, why aren’t you taking her home?” Brooks has the biggest mouth.
“Jesus, dude.”
“What?” he scoffs and takes another sip of beer.
“When was the last time you took a woman home?”
He shrugs. “This ain’t about me. You like her, so go back over there.”
“And say what? Her friend just got here. They’re doing a girls’ night. She needs that more than she needs me fucking things up. Just drop it.”
Brooks grins and shakes his head back and forth before readjusting his cap. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go get myself some wings. Thankfully, I can manage a trip to the bar and back without gettin’ distracted by a pretty face.”
I tip back my beer and ignore him as I try to focus on the band, but my gaze keeps searching through the crowd to catch a glimpse of Grace. She’s young, and if I’m being honest, I shouldn’t be thinking about her sexually. Hell, she was probably only humoring me because she’s kind, not because she was interested. Why would she ever be interested in a man who’s nearly twenty years older than her?
It’s weird. Really fucking weird, and I never should’ve sat down to begin with… let alone hold her.
Jesus. The internal cringe is oppressive. It’s so rough, I’m thinking about calling it a night.
Swallowing hard, I tear my gaze away from the booth where she sits twisting her silky hair in circles. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never fantasized about a random person. I’ve never seen a woman and instantly decided I need her before. I’ve never found it hard to walk away from a relative stranger. And yet, here I am, on the fucking struggle bus, itching to go back over there and carry her back to my place.
My cock presses at my zipper and I turn back toward the band, attempting to think of anything other than the floral scent on her skin, or the way she felt against my chest.
Fuck. I’m sick. Really fucking sick. Clearly, I need to get laid… and fast. Or at the very least, I need to spend the night jerking off. I can’t be this weirdo. This is a small town. People talk, and she has a baby to think about.
I try to focus on the music. The guitars, the drums, the violin, the… smashing of glass in the background. The swearing and yelling coming from the corner booth. A chair getting knocked down. A crowd forming around Grace’s table.
What the fuck?
Heart rate speeding, I push through the crowd toward Grace. I’m not sure why I’m so desperate to protect her, but the feeling is intense. She’s sitting in the booth, staring up at a man in his late twenties. He wears a video game T-shirt with a stain on the front, and his hair is dark and messy. Her friend Zoe is standing, hollering at the dude in question, but he doesn't seem affected.
My blood is hot, my skin is crackling, and I don’t have a thought left in my head other than hurting this dude for messing with the most perfect woman I’ve ever met.
When I’m finally through the crowd, I grip the guy’s arm and drag him out of the bar without pause. It’s not a hard task. He’s a smaller guy. The worst part is shoving through the people that are both drunk and confused.
“The fuck, dude?” The kid thrashes away from me the second we’re in the fresh air. He could’ve been thrashing the whole time, but I’m not sure I’d have noticed. The bar was loud, but I was also in a zone.
The bar door swings open again. This time, with Grace and her friend behind it. “It’s okay, Cyrus.” Grace’s voice is soft and sweet. “I’ve got it. He’s… probably drunk.”
“No, I’m not drunk, Grace,” the piece of shit slurs. “Who is this old fuck? Are you fucking him?”
Okay… this kid wants to get his ass beat. I stare at him and say, “You gotta chance to run, man. I’d take it.”
The kid scoffs and pushes his hand back through his black hair. “Don’t you have to get to bed so you don’t miss the early bird at Cracker Barrel?”
“Jason,” Grace steps toward him, her hand on her stomach, “shut up!”
I don’t want her defending me, not ever, but especially not like this. She’s got enough on her plate already.
“He’s leaving.” I step between them, using my size to force the kid off the sidewalk and away from the bar. I’m being nice, which he should appreciate.
Trouble is, he doesn’t seem to catch the drift.
A Joker-esque kind of laugh spills from his throat as he swipes his small hand across the unshaven goat hairs on his chin. “This slut is pregnant with my baby, so she’s coming with me.”
My fists ball at my sides and every nerve in my body is on fire. I want to crush this guy. This kid. This small boy who thinks he’s playing grown up. “Last chance, man. Watch your fucking mouth.”
He narrows his gaze, but doesn’t look toward me. His focus is on Grace, and though I know I want to protect her, I also know I have no right to be here. This, whatever this is , is between them. I have to remember that. I can’t get involved.
“You signed away your rights, Jason. This isn’t your baby. Leave us alone.” Grace’s voice is soft and shaking.
“You’re such a fuckin’ liar, Grace. You’ve always been a liar. A fat, disgusting, piece of tras—”
Yeah, forget what I said about not getting involved.
I grab the man by the back of the shirt, push him up against the brick wall, and land two solid punches into his jaw before I toss him on the ground like the bug he is, then scoop Grace up into my arms.
“What are you doing? How are you lifting me?” She stares down at the ground as though it’s weird that I’m carrying her. Maybe it is. Maybe I shouldn’t assume she needs to be carried. Maybe this whole fucking night is weird. Maybe I’m a psychopath. A lonely, idiot of a man who’s gone too far with a girl that’s way too fucking young for him.
“Do you want me to put you down?”
Her green eyes focus on me. “Did your mother teach you to fight for women, too?”
“Something like that. She’s a single mom. It was important to her that us boys never treated women the way she was treated.”
“Well,” Grace bites back a smile, “I think she’d be proud of you.”
“Thanks, I’ll let her know you said that. She’s nearly ninety-five, but I think she still likes folks telling her how well she raised us.”
“Hey, let her down!” her friend says, click-clacking in heels behind me.
I realize now this probably looks like a kidnapping.
“Sorry,” I set Grace down and stare at her. “I was just trying to get you away from that asshole.”
She nods and stares up at me. I hadn’t realized how short she is until right now, though this might be the first time she’s stood in front of me without a million things going on around us.
“It’s okay, Zoe,” Grace whispers toward her friend. “I’ll be right in.”
“I think we should go home, Grace. I’ll go warm up the car. We can stay up late and watch something mindless to get your head on right.”
Grace nods, though I get the feeling she’s disappointed to go home. I know I didn’t push her out of the bar, but I’m feeling guilty for some reason.
“Sorry about that,” I groan low under my breath. “I don’t know what came over me. I just… that dude was being an asshole, and I just reacted.”
“It’s okay.” She stares down at the sidewalk before reaching for my cracked hand and lifting her gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing. I just hope I didn’t scare you.” Her touch is so soft and gentle that it’s taking all of me not to haul her over my shoulder and take her home.
“It was kind of nice… to be protected. I mean, no one’s ever really punched anyone out in my honor before. Am I supposed to be flattered? Maybe that’s weird, but I am. I mean… it’s sweet. Violent , but sweet.”
“Come on, Grace.” Zoe tugs at her friend's arm. “Let’s go. It’s late.”
I don’t want her to leave. I want to ask her out. I want to tell her I can’t walk away and be normal now. I want to ask her more questions about her life, get to know her, hold her close, but considering the night we’ve just had, I’m pretty sure I should leave before I do any more damage.
“It is getting late,” I say, tucking my hand into the front pocket of my jeans. “Good luck with everything. I hope your delivery turns out as planned.” I lean down and kiss her forehead gently, lingering far too long on the floral scent in her hair.
Jesus, why did I kiss her? This isn’t a kiss on the head type of situation. It’s a handshake and walk away type of night. What the fuck?
As I stand, her big green eyes follow me. I will my cock to stay tucked away, but he’s growing desperate, aching to take this woman that we’ve only just met. I need to calm down. I need to get a grip and stop obsessing. She doesn’t belong to me, and tonight is just one night.