The pretty girl rolls her eyes, but even she can’t fight the smile that’s teasing her full lips.
We continue to pretend I’m not bullshitting her as I enjoy watching her work. I may not be psyched about her being pregnant in a bar, but she mixes a drink like no other. And people love her, too. Though I’m starting to see that’s a double edged sword.
Too many people love her. Too many fucking assholes.
Some young idiot comes up behind me, having the balls to rest his sweaty arm on my shoulder as he places his order at the bar. I fling my arm, forcing his to fall off me. I shoot him a glare. What the fuck? I’m not your wing man. I say it with my glare. Lucky for him, the dude immediately gets the message and backs up out of my space.
“Hey, Big Red,” he calls out. Penn comes over and takes his order, while he hits on her without an ounce of shame.
She hurriedly gets his drink, obviously annoyed by the guy’s aggressive attention.
“Looking mighty good tonight, Red. I’ll come find you for another round here soon,” the asshole says, winking at Penn.
“You do that, honey,” she replies in a saccharine tone, her voice giving every man within a twenty foot radius a hard-on.
The waitress on duty approaches to tell Penny she’s taking her 15-minute break. Penny promises that she’s got the floor covered.
She’s positively glowing. I don’t know if it’s just the pregnancy or what, but Penny has never been quite so appealing. She’s always been beautiful, but right now? This woman is carrying my child and that officially makes her the sexiest woman to ever walk this planet.
More and more, I’ve been dying to claim her, to finally hear her say she’s mine. Since Penny moved into the cabin, there have been lingering glances, electric touches but nothing more than that. I’m so conflicted over whether I should make my move or just leave things as they are, just accept that we’re only friends.
I’m going crazy, trying to figure out what to do. We have a contract, after all. A contract where I promised to keep my nose out of her life.
I groan, scrubbing my hand down my face.
“You good?” Penn asks, grinning my way.
“I’m good,” I mumble.
“Want another one? A colder one?” She nods at my nearly full beer.
“Fine.” I don’t. But I guess if I’m going to sit here and stew, I might as well sip on something cold. Maybe it’ll cool me the hell off, before I lose it.
I’m trying really hard to keep a level head about this. I’m trying to keep a level head about every guy who comes into the bar and hits on Penn.
I’m not jealous. That’s not what this is. I’m just trying to make sure these assholes don’t disrespect the woman. I’m trying to draw that fine line between protecting her and allowing her the independence that has always meant so much to her.
My gut hardens when that jackass from earlier calls out to her. Nothing but trouble can come from a guy like that. I got a bad feeling about him the second he stepped up to the bar. Now, he’s sitting at a hightop table across the room, gesturing her over.
I watch her stiffen slightly. She’s irritated—I can tell, and I don’t like it—but she schools her expression well.
A few minutes later, she’s striding across the room to deliver two mugs of beer to him. What a loser. Who orders two fucking beers at the same time?
My mouth clenches, and I carefully breathe through my nose, watching as the stranger grins and slithers into her personal space. She tries to play it off, taking a tiny step back. I know she has experience with handsy, drunk losers. But I don’t feel right about this. The guy is huge. And Penny’s carrying my baby.
Despite what that stupid contract says.
My knee bounces, as I struggle to stay in my seat. My fingers curl into my hands, over and over, as I make a genuine effort to give her space.
I’m trying, Penn. I’m fucking trying here.
It all happens so fast. The asshole slides his big tattooed paw up Penny’s thigh until he’s gripping her ass. She’s politely pushing the man’s hand away but then he wraps his tree-trunk arm around her waist, yanking her body flush against the side of his. He’s not gentle about it, either.
No fucking way.
All sense of reason flies out the door. I’m already in motion. My stool teeters then crashes to the floor when I fly out of it. The only thing on my mind right now is protecting what’s mine.
I storm across the bar, until I’m centimeters from this tatted up wannabe. “Remove your hand from the lady,” I growl.
The guy laughs, eyes flicking to mine with disinterest. “Get out of here, cowboy. The pretty girl wants this.” He rises to his feet, puffing out his chest like this is some mating ritual.
By now, Penny has backed up, thank God. She’s partially standing behind me, but pulling on my left arm, trying to get me back to the bartop. Trying to protect me, no doubt. Silly woman.
I stand a little taller. Someone has to teach this guy a lesson. He can’t get away with going around molesting innocent women. Especially not mine.
“I’m telling you one last time,” I grit between closed teeth, “You’ll need to keep your mitts off the lady.” I step forward, bumping into the giant with my own chest. “Real women aren’t into the whole macho douche cloth thing.”
At that, the prick snarls, shoving me. I lose it. With my left hand guarding Penny to make sure she doesn’t do something dumb, like trying to step in, I snap my right fist into this giant’s face.
One punch, one satisfying crunch of a nose, and a whole lot of blood.
The
