Chapter 10
Tyson leaned back in his chair and watched the front entrance of Mickey’s Bar and Grill, waiting for Haylee to walk through. He’d called her late in the afternoon and mentioned he was going to Mickey’s for a burger and a beer, and she’d said she’d love to join him.
It was early Wednesday evening, and there wasn’t a live band, but country music played loud from speakers in the rafters. He tapped his toe to a Kade Fields tune.
Haylee walked through the doorway like sunshine filling the room. Her blonde hair lay about her shoulders, and her smile knocked the breath from him.
Their gazes met, and she waved and started toward him. He took in her smooth, fluid movements, the gentle sway of her hips, and the curve of her kissable lips.
“Hey, Tyson.” She reached him, and he stood. “Sorry, I’m a little late.”
“You never have to apologize.” He kissed her, and her lips tingled from the gentle kiss. He helped her out of her jacket, then waited for her to take her seat before he resumed sitting in his own.
She glanced at the empty table. “You haven’t started yet.”
“I’m in no hurry.” He shrugged. “Besides, a gentleman always waits for a lady.”
Haylee rolled her eyes. “Save me from cowboy gentlemen.” Then she looked at him, a sparkle in her eyes. “Truth be told, most women secretly love it.”
Tyson couldn’t help smiling whenever he was around her. “Glad to hear it.” He pushed a folded paper menu toward her. “I’m having the cowboy burger with steak fries and a beer.”
“Sounds perfect.” She didn’t look at the menu. “I’ll take the cowgirl burger with sweet potato fries.”
He caught sight of a server and flagged her down. “Reba, we’re ready to order.”
“Terrific.” The redhead smiled at him—she flirted with him shamelessly whenever he was in the bar and alone. “What’ll you have?”
Tyson told her and ordered a domestic on tap while Haylee said she’d like a craft beer. Reba collected the menu and whisked them away to the kitchen to place their orders.
Haylee leaned forward, both arms braced on the tabletop. “You mentioned a meeting with Henry Goldman on the phone last night. How did it go?”
“After looking over the books and going over the report by my attorneys, I think it would be a sound investment. So, I told him I wanted to hear his asking price.”
She leaned forward, closer to him. “And?”
He loved the enthusiasm in her expression. “It was far lower than I expected and what my firm’s estimation of value was. He’s been telling me he wants someone he trusts to take over his legacy and would give me a price he wouldn’t offer anyone else. It was a damned good one.”
She beamed at him. “So, you’re going to become a jerky tycoon.”
He chuckled. “If all goes well, I’ll own a jerky company. Don’t know about the tycoon part.”
“You’ll do well.” Haylee leaned back as Reba arrived with the beer and set one in front of each of them.
When the server left, Haylee sipped from her beverage while Tyson knocked back a good swallow or two.
She set her glass on the tabletop. “I imagine yours and Henry’s attorneys will hammer out the contract.”
He gave a nod. “Goldman’s in a hurry to retire, so I think it’ll happen sooner rather than later.”
“You mentioned Dutchman’s Gold is a regional small-batch company.” She cocked her head. “It’s not available everywhere that I’ve seen.”
Tyson shook his head. “He provides the product mostly to wholesale warehouses, which in turn sells to small retailers and their members.”
She looked like she was considering the information he’d given her. “Do you think you’ll go bigger with the company? Maybe go national?”
He blew out his breath. “Hell, if I know. I’m in no rush to grow it bigger. I might like to keep it as is, but there’s a huge market for jerky, and Dutchman’s Gold is the best, in my estimation.”
Haylee smiled. “It sure is my favorite. And now you’ll become my favorite jerky man.”
Tyson laughed. “I’m not so sure about that title.”
Reba arrived with their burgers and fries, a squeeze bottle of ketchup, and silverware rolled up in paper napkins. She swept away, and both Haylee and Tyson dug in.
“Oh, my God.” Haylee dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Mickey makes the best burgers in Arizona.”
Tyson chased his large bite down with beer, then thumped the mug on the table. “It hits the spot.”
They enjoyed their meals, Haylee eating every bit of her burger and sweet potato fries and Tyson clearing his plate.
After they finished eating and their table was cleared, Haylee sat back in her seat. “I’m ready to go home and climb into bed. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m beat.” Tyson finished off his beer and set it on the tabletop. “I’ll walk you out to your truck.”
He put enough cash on the table to pay their tab and a generous tip, then helped Haylee into her jacket and slipped on his own. He escorted Haylee out of the bar, but they couldn’t get very far without running into someone either knew and saying good night before moving on.
When they finally walked out onto the broad porch, the air was cool and crisp, and the stars twinkled brightly in the sky. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets as they walked down the steps onto the gravel and toward their parked vehicles in the dimly lit parking lot.
A woman screamed, and Tyson came to a hard stop, hair rising at his nape. His protective instincts kicked into gear, and he clenched Haylee’s arm, halting her with him.
To his right, a loud crash jerked Tyson’s attention in that direction, and he saw a woman standing several feet away from a man who slammed a bat into the sideview mirror of a beat-up old Chevy. “You bitch,” he shouted in a drunken slur and hit the truck again, crunching the fender in a loud, metallic sound.
“Stop it,” the woman shrieked. “I should never have married you, bastard.”
“This is what I’m going to do to you, whore.” The drunk staggered and took another swing at the truck, putting a big dent in the passenger door. “Let’s see if you can sleep with another man then. No man’s gonna look at you with a broken face.”
The back of Tyson’s neck burned, and his gut grew tight. He’d heard enough. “Wait here,” he said to Haylee.
“No.” Her eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm. “Don’t get into the middle of a domestic dispute. I’m calling the sheriff’s department, and they can handle it.”
“I can’t let him hurt her.” Tyson disentangled himself from Haylee’s grasp and strode toward the man and woman.
“Damn it, Tyson,” Haylee shouted after him. “Get back here.”
“This is going to be your head.” The drunk crumpled a fender with his next hit, the threat making Tyson’s skin prickle with heat. The man put power into his swing, and Tyson would be damned if he would let this man hurt his wife.
The man staggered up to the woman who screamed obscenities at him, moonlight glinting off the teardrops rolling down her cheeks.
Tyson ran behind the drunk, who dropped the bat and raised his fist to punch the woman. Tyson grabbed the man’s fist, stopping it from connecting with the woman’s face.
“What the fuck?” The asshole jerked his hand away from Tyson and whirled around.
“Keep your hands off her,” Tyson said in a dead serious tone.
“Mind your own fucking business.” A cloud of alcohol filled the space between them before the man drove his fist toward Tyson’s jaw.
Tyson caught the drunk’s wrist and held it tightly. “Settle down and act like a man.”
“I’ll show you who’s the man around here,” the drunk slurred, jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a gun.
A chill crawled down Tyson’s spine as he released the drunk’s wrist and raised his hands. He thought he heard Haylee scream.
“Leave him alone,” the woman shrieked even louder. “Leave my husband alone!”
Tyson barely heard the woman through the blood rushing in his ears as he stared down the pistol’s barrel. The man hadn’t put his finger on the trigger, not yet. Tyson kept his hands raised and spoke slowly and clearly. “Put the gun away.”
“Leave my husband alone!” The woman repeated the cry over and over. She came up beside Tyson and shoved him. She was stronger than he would have expected, and he took a step to the side to catch himself.
Sirens sounded, coming up fast.
The man still pointed his gun in Tyson’s face, and Tyson kept his hands up in clear view of the drunk. “Put the gun down.” He kept his tone even. “You don’t want to shoot someone and end up in prison.”
“I’ll teach you to poke your nose into other people’s business.” The gun wavered as the man struggled to keep his arm steady. His finger twitched and started to move to the trigger.
Tyson stepped in, snatched the gun from the man, twisted his arm behind his back, and took him facedown to the ground.
The woman screamed obscenities and started beating on Tyson’s back. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying as hell.
The man shouted equally vulgar words and struggled in Tyson’s grip.
Sheriff’s department SUVs rounded the corner, tires squealing. Gravel crunched as they pulled into the lot, and then they cut their sirens. Tyson set the gun by his knee, where it would be in easy grasp if the woman charged for it, but he wouldn’t be holding it when the deputies came on the scene.
The next half hour was spent sorting things out. Tyson knew several members of the sheriff’s department, so he didn’t have a problem explaining what had happened. But he was told next time to leave it to the professionals.
The drunk remained belligerent, shouting that he would kill Tyson for interfering, and the woman screaming that everything was Tyson’s fault.
When the deputies let him go after questioning, Tyson strode back to where Haylee stood. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she looked pissed as hell.
She lowered her arms and balled her hands into fists when he stood before her. Her voice came out low and hard. “That was the stupidest damned thing you could have done. You should have waited for the sheriff’s deputies. That idiot could have killed you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out his breath. He lowered his hand and looked at Haylee. “I couldn’t just let the man punch his wife.”
“The moment you heard the woman say she shouldn’t have married him, you should have known to leave it to the deputies.” Haylee’s eyes glinted with anger. “Domestic situations are some of the most dangerous. As you saw, some women don’t want to be rescued. Or at least she’s not ready yet to make that stand. But regardless, this was something you should never have stepped into.”
He studied her. “Why are you so angry?”
“Are you that dense? I care about you and don’t want to see you hurt or killed by doing something as stupid as getting into the middle of a domestic dispute.” She raised her hands. “Putting yourself into dangerous situations can also put other people at risk. What if he had turned the gun on his wife?”
Tyson closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He opened them again. “The man was about to hit his wife with a bat.”
“He could have killed you.” Haylee lowered her arms, and to his surprise, it looked like she might cry. “I need to get home and get some rest. I have a long day tomorrow.”
Tyson forced himself to stop from taking her into his arms. They fell into step on the way to her truck. When they reached the driver’s side door, she unlocked it and turned to him, but didn’t say anything. She usually had such a clear open expression, but right now he couldn’t read her.
He decided he was all in, so he cupped the sides of her face and looked into her eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a whisper.
He wasn’t sure exactly where he stood at this moment. “Can I kiss you?”
It was like the tense moments fell away. Her shoulders relaxed, and the lines on her forehead disappeared. “Yes.” The word came out low and soft.
He smiled and brushed his mouth over hers. She leaned into him, her body melding with his. He kissed her until he couldn’t think straight.
When he came up for air, he studied her and the glitter of her eyes in the moonlight. “Goodnight, Haylee.”
“Goodnight.” She reached up and kissed him before stepping away and climbing into her truck.
He shut the door behind her, waited until she had left the parking lot, and drove away into the night.
Tonight, he hadn’t truly felt fear. He’d been in a lot of dangerous situations during his military career, and this hadn’t seemed any worse until he’d had a gun in his face.
Even then, he wasn’t sure he would have done anything differently. He had to try, didn’t he? He prevented the man from hitting his wife, even if the asshole pulled a gun on him. At least she hadn’t been beaten up.
But what would the bastard do to her when they were alone? Would he take what happened tonight out on her?
A hot, heavy weight filled Tyson’s gut like molten lead. It was his nature to help, but had he hurt her instead?
All he wanted to do was help when he could. He hadn’t been able to help his mom, so he had to help others whenever it was in his power to do so.
His thoughts turned to the night he had pushed Old Bill out of the way of the truck the night of the barn dance. The look on Haylee’s face at the thought of him being killed—it wasn’t that she didn’t think he should have saved the man’s life. It was because she’d lost someone in some terrible way. And tonight, when she felt he could have been killed—had it brought back more bad memories? What had happened to make her feel that way?
Thoughts of the scene with the man and his wife stuck in his mind like a burr that he couldn’t dislodge. He turned away from the road, headed to his truck, hit the remote, and climbed in.
The drive seemed longer than usual, so he had plenty of time to work everything over in his mind.
Tyson grimaced. Haylee was making him look at things differently. He wanted her, his heart needed her—hopefully she’d give him the chance to show they were meant to be together.