Chapter 6 Protective Instincts
Trouble at the Diner
Damon spent most of Friday trying to ignore the fact that he was proud of Elliot Hayes.
The realization irritated him from the moment he woke up.
It shouldn't matter that the kid had stood up for himself.
It shouldn't matter that he'd handled those college idiots with more confidence than most grown men possessed.
And it definitely shouldn't matter that Damon had replayed the entire confrontation several times while driving home.
Yet here he was.
Thinking about it again.
The memory remained frustratingly clear.
The way Elliot had refused to back down.
The calm confidence beneath his nervousness.
The refusal to apologize for who he was.
Damon respected that.
More than he wanted to admit.
Because being different in a place like Willow Ridge wasn't easy.
Hell, being different anywhere wasn't easy.
People liked categories.
Simple explanations.
Clear labels.
The moment someone failed to fit expectations, problems usually followed.
Damon knew that from personal experience.
By the time his shift ended, he was exhausted.
The day had been long.
Equipment inspections.
Safety meetings.
Unexpected repairs.
Nothing unusual.
Just enough work to leave his muscles aching and his patience thin.
The only thing he wanted was food and a quiet evening.
The diner on Main Street seemed like the easiest solution.
It was close.
The food was decent.
And nobody expected conversation beyond basic politeness.
Perfect.
The evening crowd had already begun gathering when Damon arrived.
The familiar bell above the entrance chimed as he stepped inside.
The scent of coffee, grilled burgers, and fried food immediately greeted him.
Country music played softly from a nearby speaker.
Several waitresses moved between booths carrying trays loaded with food.
Everything looked normal.
Comfortably familiar.
Then Damon spotted Elliot.
Of course.
The younger man sat alone near the window with a notebook open beside his plate.
A pencil rested between his fingers.
Naturally.
The kid carried drawing supplies everywhere.
Damon shouldn't have been surprised.
What did surprise him was the immediate reaction inside his chest.
Awareness.
Instant.
Automatic.
His gaze found Elliot before noticing anyone else in the room.
That fact annoyed him considerably.
The smart thing would be turning around.
Finding another restaurant.
Avoiding unnecessary complications.
Instead, Damon found himself walking toward an empty booth several rows away.
Close enough to see.
Far enough to avoid conversation.
A reasonable compromise.
At least, that's what he told himself.
A waitress approached.
"The usual?"
Damon nodded.
"Please."
She smiled and headed toward the kitchen.
Damon settled back against the booth.
Against his better judgment, his attention drifted toward Elliot.
The younger man appeared focused on whatever he was writing.
Or drawing.
Probably drawing.
A half-finished burger sat untouched beside him.
His expression remained serious.
Thoughtful.
Every now and then he would pause before adding another line to the page.
Completely absorbed.
The sight made something soften unexpectedly inside Damon.
There was something refreshing about watching someone care deeply about something.
Most people spent their lives chasing paychecks.
Responsibilities.
Survival.
Very few pursued genuine passion.
Elliot clearly did.
The realization lingered.
Until another voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Well, look what we got here."
Damon immediately disliked the tone.
Across the diner, a large man stumbled away from the bar area.
Mid-forties.
Unsteady on his feet.
Clearly drunk.
The kind of drunk that made poor decisions.
Damon recognized him instantly.
Wayne Foster.
A local contractor with a reputation for becoming an idiot whenever alcohol entered the picture.
Which was often.
Wayne stopped beside Elliot's table.
The younger man looked up politely.
"Can I help you?"
Wayne grinned.
Not a pleasant grin.
The kind that immediately raised warning flags.
"Ain't you Roy Hayes' nephew?"
Elliot nodded cautiously.
"Yes."
"Heard about you."
Wonderful.
Damon resisted the urge to sigh.
Apparently everyone in town had heard about Roy's nephew.
The drunk man leaned against the table.
Too close.
Much too close.
"I've seen you around."
"Okay."
The answer remained polite.
Careful.
Damon noticed the tension in Elliot's shoulders.
The younger man wasn't comfortable.
Neither was he.
Wayne continued smiling.
"College boy."
Elliot offered a small nod.
The conversation should have ended there.
Unfortunately, drunk people rarely recognized appropriate stopping points.
"You draw pictures, right?"
"I study art."
Another grin.
Wider this time.
"Thought so."
Damon didn't like where this was heading.
Not one bit.
Several other customers noticed too.
Conversations began slowing.
Attention shifted.
The atmosphere subtly changed.
Everyone sensed trouble approaching.
Elliot seemed to realize it as well.
He carefully closed his notebook.
A smart move.
Unfortunately, Wayne interpreted it as encouragement.
"Show me."
Elliot blinked.
"What?"
"Your drawings."
The younger man's expression tightened.
"No thank you."
The refusal remained polite.
Respectful.
More patience than Damon would have shown.
Wayne didn't appreciate it.
"What?"
"I'd rather not."
The contractor's smile disappeared.
Just like that.
Alcohol transformed mild curiosity into irritation.
A familiar pattern.
Damon had witnessed it countless times.
"Too good for us?"
The accusation landed heavily.
Several people exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Elliot remained calm.
"No."
"Then show me."
The younger man took a breath.
"I said no."
The temperature inside the diner seemed to drop.
Not literally.
Just emotionally.
The shift became impossible to ignore.
Wayne straightened.
The movement carried an unmistakable edge.
Aggression.
Not outright violence.
Not yet.
But the possibility existed.
Damon recognized the signs immediately.
Years of experience had taught him well.
The contractor leaned closer.
"You think you're special?"
Elliot looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Yet he didn't back down.
"No."
"Then why are you acting like it?"
The conversation had officially crossed into bullying territory.
Drunk.
Mean-spirited.
Pointless.
Damon's jaw tightened.
He hated bullies.
Always had.
Especially grown men picking on people smaller than themselves.
There was something pathetic about it.
Something weak.
Wayne continued talking.
The words became less important than the tone.
Mocking.
Dismissive.
Cruel.
Every sentence made Damon angrier.
Which was ridiculous.
Elliot wasn't his responsibility.
Wasn't his concern.
Wasn't someone he should be protecting.
Yet the urge continued growing anyway.
The younger man attempted to end the conversation twice.
Wayne ignored both attempts.
Several employees looked uncertain.
Clearly debating whether to intervene.
Before any of them could decide, Wayne reached toward Elliot's notebook.
That was enough.
Damon moved before consciously deciding to.
One second he sat in the booth.
The next he was crossing the diner.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Certain.
Years of physical labor gave him a naturally intimidating presence.
At six-foot-three and heavily built, he rarely needed to raise his voice.
Most problems solved themselves once he appeared.
This one was no exception.
"Wayne."
The single word stopped everything.
The contractor froze.
Slowly, he turned.
His expression immediately changed.
Because now he wasn't dealing with a college student.
Now he was dealing with Damon Blackwell.
The difference mattered.
A lot.
"Damon."
The greeting sounded significantly less confident.
Damon stopped beside Elliot's table.
Positioning himself between them happened instinctively.
Natural as breathing.
Wayne noticed.
So did Elliot.
The silence stretched.
"What are you doing?" Damon asked.
The question remained calm.
Dangerously calm.
Wayne laughed awkwardly.
"Just talking."
"No."
The simple response landed like a hammer.
"You aren't."
The contractor shifted uncomfortably.
Several customers watched openly now.
Nobody attempted to hide their interest.
Damon didn't care.
His attention remained fixed on Wayne.
The man looked away first.
Smart decision.
"Didn't mean anything by it."
"Then leave."
The words carried no room for debate.
Wayne hesitated.
For a brief second, Damon wondered whether alcohol might make him stupid enough to argue.
Thankfully, it didn't.
The contractor muttered something under his breath.
Then he walked away.
The tension followed him.
Gradually dissolving as he disappeared toward the exit.
The front door opened.
Closed.
Silence lingered.
Then normal conversation slowly returned.
People relaxed.
The crisis passed.
Just like that.
Damon released a slow breath.
Only then did he become aware of Elliot beside him.
Watching.
Quiet.
The younger man's hazel eyes remained fixed on him.
Wide with surprise.
And something else.
Something Damon didn't particularly want to identify.
Because he already knew what it was.
Gratitude.
The realization made his chest tighten unexpectedly.
A dangerous reaction.
One he needed to get under control immediately.
Unfortunately, as he looked down at Elliot and saw relief replacing tension, one uncomfortable truth became impossible to ignore.
The moment he thought Elliot might be in trouble, he'd crossed an entire diner without hesitation.
Without thought.
Without considering consequences.
Pure instinct.
And that fact worried him far more than Wayne Foster ever could.
Dangerous Territory
For several seconds after Wayne left, neither Damon nor Elliot spoke.
The diner slowly returned to normal around them.
Conversations resumed.
Silverware clinked against plates.
Waitresses moved between tables carrying fresh coffee and food orders.