Thank God Minnesota’s not an open carry state or he’d have the high-powered rifle strapped to his back right now. There’s something small about a man who needs to prove his worth by carrying a huge gun.
After Jess gets his hand slapped away, a raucous round of male laughter echoes through the coffee shop.
I don’t lift my head. At least not yet. She’s not really in trouble. There’s nothing really challenging about handling Jess, who’s nothing but an annoying blowhard. All Angelica has to do is kill him with kindness or tell him to fuck right off. Both would probably work, but she’s not doing either and that’s what’s making him keep needling her, because he’s getting a rise out of her for minimal effort, making him look like a hero in front of his latest bromance when it should be the opposite.
Any woman who has an older brother or works around men would know that. Testosterone fuels bad behavior. Jess won’t ignore her if she keeps giving him a reason to push her boundaries.
Just after I take my last bite of the sugary goodness swirled with the perfect ratio of tart wild blueberries, she whisks over and slips the tab on the table, face down. After Jess’s latest antics, she’s worrying her lower lip with her teeth until it’s red and swollen.
Like she’s just been well kissed.
Where in the hell did that thought come from?
I push it back down. With the lack of women around here, it’s never wise to get all horned up when the only date a man can make in Sweetheart Hills is with his right hand. The next time I rub one out, it will be to images of her lush curves, that much I can count on.
Glancing up, I catch her staring at me. Those eyes. They could stop a man dead in his tracks.
“I’ll be back if you need change,” she says.
Before I even have a chance to grab my wallet, she sashays away. I fish out a few bills and put them with my tab. Change is not necessary in this case – I’m leaving her a huge tip which is well earned and deserved. I’ve never had such great service in here and I hope she stays. I don’t mind the kind words and the view is stellar.
Not that I didn’t love Brian with the horn-rimmed glasses, slicked back hair and kind eyes. But he went off to college at UMD. Still see him around town during his breaks.
Now, to forget the tempting Angelica and focus on getting home in one piece. I can already picture a hot shower and slipping into my flannel sheets before burrowing into the heavenly softness of my down comforter. Nothing is quieter than a night in the north woods of Minnesota and the muffins calmed the rumbling in my stomach. A quick sandwich before falling into bed will take care of the rest. Despite the coffee, exhaustion flows over me in waves.
When I reach for my heavy coat, my eyes seem to still be peeled across the room, because I see the exact moment when Jess makes a really bad decision.
Angelica is empty-handed, but a look of shock seems permanently etched into the lines of her face. She lands with an awkward flop in the man’s lap, kind of like a dying fish. Jess leans in and says something – something dirty by the blush that races up her cheeks – because the guys sitting around him laugh and whistle. One even slaps his knee. Angelica pushes against his massive chest, but Jess doesn’t budge. If anything, he pulls her tighter against him.
I glance around looking for Len. He would never tolerate this kind of inappropriate behavior because it’s sexual harassment and borderline assault. It could get this place shut down. Sheriff Callahan has a good handle on the local folk, and he doesn’t tolerate men treading where they’re not wanted all in the name of trying to cop a feel. And if Jess tried this with another man’s wife or daughter, that could get him killed. When I don’t see any employee other than Angelica in the front of the house, I mutter a surly, ‘damn’ under my breath and lumber to my feet.
I don’t fucking need this.
I’m too tired to get into it with an asshole today.
I’ve got my own problems and getting along with men who couldn’t survive in a city is integral to solving them. Creating a pissing match with Jess is going to hurt more than it helps. But dammit, her face isn’t flushed this time, it’s as pale as Casper the friendly ghost. Even from yards away, her expression lights a fire in my gut.
I don’t like it – it makes that pinching behind my ribs even more painful – and I intend to wipe it off her face.
I stalk over, my step so soft that no one even realizes I’ve arrived – until I reach over and pluck Angelica off Jess’s lap as if she weighs no more than a sugar packet.
“What the fuck?” Jess hisses, his wild eyes snapping to mine.
It takes a heartbeat to stop her trembles. For that moment – with my hands on her waist – I feel the supple heat of her body and inhale the citrusy scent of her shampoo. Everything below the belt tightens with a punch of lust that I never expected before starting a fight I didn’t ask for – but it doesn’t last long because an angry asshat demands a pound of my flesh for taking away the warmth of hers.
“I said what the fuck!” Jess snarls again, nearly tipping the table when he jumps out of his chair. “You’re not welcome here, mountain man! Go… go kiss a bear or something, you freak!”
I have no time to release my own string of annoyed curses. Because when a man like Jess asks for trouble – trouble jumps through the starting gate and takes off at a full gallop. Jess has obviously been drinking before he arrived at Cool Beans, or maybe he even spiked his coffee with whiskey. That’s not uncommon around these parts and mainly ignored by law enforcement and the proprietors of the few bars and restaurants in Sweetheart Hills.
Jess’s pinched face is flushed an angry red from booze and emotion. I grab him by the back of his camo jacket and give him a little shake. “Have you been drinking?” I say calmly, despite the irritation snaking up my spine. “I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t help you sober up before you took the risk of slipping behind the wheel. I’d hate to see Callahan put you in the drunk tank.”
Chairs scrape the hardwood. As if someone has just dropped dead, you can hear a pin drop inside Cool Beans until the espresso machine fires back up with a resounding hiss. As much as they might loathe my presence in their town, they respect my size, so no one attempts to get in between us as I propel Jess toward the door. Why would they? Jess is the kind of dude people merely tolerate rather than admire or even like, so him getting thrown out of Cool Beans on his ass provides them the best entertainment Sweetheart Hills has seen in a while.
The other customers stare, or whisper to each other behind raised hands, but no one even makes a move to stop me.
The wind has finally died down, but a bitter chill kisses the air when I yank open the heavy front door. The icy air slams straight into my lungs. It’s getting dark out, but the fresh snow sparkles like the light of a thousand stars. I release Jess’s coat, reach down and scoop up a handful of fresh snow, shoving it right into the man’s red face.
Blustering and sputtering like a typical asshole, he tries to throw a punch which I easily sway out of the line of fire. I scoop up another ball of cold snow and try again. He’s not a man who learns his lesson the first time and I’m not immune to teaching it again.
“My mama raised me not to pick on people smaller than me and especially not women. Only bullies do that, and bullies are nothing but chickenshits in disguise. Apparently, yours wasn’t as loving. Are we clear?”