Chapter Two
“Ican’t believe we made it through an entire evening without one fight,” Jamie exclaimed.
Blair and Fred froze. Taeloree dropped her tray. It was an unwritten, unspoken saying that you didn’t mention the word fight in a bar. You definitely didn’t say one didn’t happen, or you would invite said fight to occur.
“What? What did I say?” Jamie asked, spinning in a circle.
The music played at a low decibel as the DJ began shutting down for the night. Hence, those in close proximity easily heard her little announcement.
“You are not the brightest bulb in the pack, are you?” Cheryl, a regular, asked.
Jamie glared at her, then at Blair. “How rude. All I said was—”
Taeloree slapped her hand over Jordan’s lips before he could utter the same words again.
“Jamie, have you ever heard of jinxing? That is literally what you just did,” Fred muttered.
The guy’s eyes widened.
Taeloree nodded, then removed her hand. “Exactly. Now, spin in a circle three times and say I’m a dumb ass.”
Jamie started to turn around.
“Don’t,” Blair said. “Jamie, for future reference, don’t say anything about such things. After you’re home and tucked safely in bed, go right ahead. Okay?” Blair asked.
“Got it, Jinx. Oh, is that why they call you? Never mind. Shutting up.” Jamie spun on his booted feet and walked away.
“That boy done lost his mind, or maybe he ran for a train when they said brain,” Fred muttered.
Jinx locked the back door after she and Fred walked out. “It’s freezing out here. I swear I could cut glass with my nipples,” Fred said, shivering exaggeratedly.
“If you wore a bra, you’d have extra padding for those titties,” she joked.
“Sounds like someone needs warming up.”
She and Fred spun at the sound of the male voice. The sight of three men leaning against a pickup parked next to her jacked-up Ford F350 pissed her the fuck off. “What’s up, guys?”
“Not much. We just wanted to make sure you got home okay. How about we give you a lift?” the man Jamie had said reminded him of a mix between Glenn Powell and Kellen Lutz asked.
Jinx saw the resemblance, kind of. He definitely looked a lot like Glenn but had Kellen's bulk.
Yet the guy was a complete dick. The assholery literally oozed off him.
“Thanks for the offer, but I got a ride. I hope you have a Merry Christmas,” she said, trying to sound chipper.
“Why don’t you send your friend on his way, and you come with us? We promise you’ll have the best night of your life.” Fake Glenn moved forward.
Blair felt Fred move closer to her side. “Are you carrying?” he asked in a low whisper. Frank and the others left a half hour before them, which meant these fuckers had been waiting and watching.
“In my bag. I don’t think I’ll have time to pull it out before the fuckboy is on us,” she whispered.
“What’re you two saying?” he asked, taking a menacing step forward.
The sound of someone approaching from the side drew their attention. Blair’s breath stalled in her throat. The man was enormous. Well over six and a half feet tall, broad-shouldered, sporting a mohawk with several braids interspersed throughout the blond and brown mass.
“Hey, babe. We got a problem?”
Fred nudged her in the side, making her acutely aware her jaw was hanging open.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Mmm, I think it would be a good idea if the three of you hop up into your little truck there and run along before you get hurt.”
Blair watched as he spoke and flicked his hands as he talked. She wanted to tell him to quit taunting them, but she nearly cackled at his words and actions.
“Buddy, there’s three of us and only one of you. I think it’s you who should run along.” The fool tried to mock the big guy’s actions.
“Trust me. I am more than capable of protecting myself and these two. Come on. Let’s all just end the night with the three of you leaving and us three doing the same.” He turned slightly toward Blair.
Blair’s stomach fluttered. This man was every single one of her fantasies rolled into one. Tall, good-looking, muscular, tattooed, and protective. She didn’t know if he had money, but she’d throw that in the fuck it bucket. Her inner hussy snorted, agreeing they’d like to fuck him.
The move gave the asshole an opening as he rushed her savior.
She watched, gasping, as the idiot from the bar slammed into the new guy’s stomach like a professional linebacker.
Most people would’ve fallen on their backs from the impact.
But he didn’t. He grunted and landed an elbow down the middle of the smaller man’s back, making him loosen his hold.
The big guy bent and grabbed the other guy by the front of his shirt, lifting him to his feet. Blair swore she saw him smile before he hit the guy in the face—blood splattered from the crushed nose, painting the snow crimson.
The other two men rushed toward the pair. Finally breaking out of her stupor, she pulled her Glock from her bag.
“Stop right there, assholes,” she yelled, moving so they could see she held the gun steady.
They both pinwheeled, arms and legs spinning to get traction. One of the men fell on his ass. “Don’t shoot,” came from both men.
“I won’t unless you make me.” She glanced over her shoulder, watching the scene unfold. The man who showed up like an avenging angel glared at her, then at the bleeding idiot on the ground.
“If you had a gun, why the fuck didn’t you have it out?” he growled.
Her eyes narrowed. “It was in my bag. I wasn’t expecting to get jumped.”
His hands went to his hips. “Always expect to get jumped when you look like that and work at a fucking bar.”
She sucked in a breath, feeling the little spark of hope die. Whoever this gorgeous stranger was, he’d been the first to make her want a man, like really want one in forever. Yet there he stood, treating her as if she were some worthless hoe bag.
Like her mother treated her all those years ago.
“Fuck you very much,” she snarled.
“Listen, we’re sorry for the miscommunication. Can we leave and pretend this didn’t happen?”
Blair wanted to hiss at the loser in front of her. Holding him and the others hostage wouldn’t do her any good. She didn’t know the three men. They were obviously from out of state since the plates on their truck weren’t local. “Don’t come back here ever again. You won’t be welcome.”
“Take your trash with you,” the big guy said, giving the one on the ground a shove with his foot, then helped him up with another slight kick to the side.
Blair moved out of the way of the jerk’s stumbling form.
She and her crew stood with the stranger and watched the assholes get into their vehicle and drive away.
The back tires fishtailed out of the parking lot, catching on solid ground just before they lost control at the intersection.
Blair released a huge gust of air she’d been holding, glad they hadn’t wrecked.
The last damn thing she wanted to do was make a call to the local sheriff’s office about their stupid asses.
“Thanks for your assistance,” Fred said, moving to shake the asshole's hand.
She growled when she saw the man stare at Fred like he was dirt beneath his feet. “Let’s go, Fred. I’ll give you a lift.”
Her friend opened his mouth to tell her he could take himself home, she was sure, but one look at her face and he closed his trap. Smart man.
BEKKETT KNEW HE FUCKED up when he opened his mouth and spewed shit about the feisty woman and basically said she was to blame. Fuck, he didn’t know what was wrong with him. She oozed sex and sweet girl next door, a combo that had his dick hard and his protective instincts on high alert.
The first time he caught sight of the little bartender, he’d thought he’d seen a ghost. His wife had been a petite bombshell with long red hair and snapping green eyes.
Their friends called them the giant and the sprite.
She’d hated it. Hell, by the end of their relationship, Nancy hated just about everything about him.
If it hadn’t been for their daughter, he was sure she’d have—Bekkett cut off his thoughts, knowing he’d spiral down a path he didn’t want or need to go.
“Hey, man. Sorry about that. You got any self-defense training?” he asked Fred, ignoring the daggers being thrown at him by the sexy blonde.
While Nancy had been a redhead, the woman before him had blonde hair that looked softer than silk.
His hands itched to touch it, to see if it was as soft and thick as it looked.
The last year he and Nancy were together, her hair started to fall out and became dirtier more often than it had been clean.
Fuck. He shook his head, hating the memories that being home brought up.
“Are you okay?”
Her soft, husky voice helped dispel old thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Well, thanks again.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand.
Bekkett rubbed the back of his neck, not trusting himself to say anything else. He jerked his thumb toward the bar and shook the man’s hand. The way Fred’s lips split into a smile let him know he made the right move.
“If I can give the two of you any advice, it’s to get some self-defense training. I know you think you can handle yourselves. I’m not discrediting either of you. However, everyone can stand to learn some moves on how to protect themselves and how to take down an attacker if it comes down to it.”
Fred hiked his thumb toward the woman. “She’s a black belt in—” he slammed his mouth shut at a glare and a shove from his friend.
“Anyway, thank you for coming back and helping us. If you’re in the neighborhood again, stop in for a drink. The first one will be on the house,” she said, turning toward the driver’s door of the pickup truck.
Bekkett knew a dismissal when he heard one, and this one was screaming at him. “Will do. Get home safe,” he said.
She pulled her door open and didn’t spare him another glance. Fred waved and did the same. Bekkett didn’t wait around for them to leave first. He spun on his boot heel and went around the front, his breath coming out in puffy clouds of air. “It’s fucking cold,” he muttered as he walked.
The rumble of her pickup echoed through the quiet night as she and Fred exited the parking lot.
He used the key fob to unlock his door, climbing inside the big rig before he followed.
Instead of turning right as they had, he went left, heading toward his family home.
A good night’s sleep and some home cooking, he knew his mother always made, was precisely what he needed.