Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Awkward in that Roid Rage clearly wants to embrace, and Clover clearly does not…
“Seriously, dude, back off,” Clover says, her voice hard and flat in a way I’ve never heard it before. “I really just wanted to talk. It’s so loud in there, I couldn’t hear anything you were saying.”
“I couldn’t hear you, either, but who cares?” he slurs as he lifts his other arm, caging her on both sides. “I think we both know talking is a waste of time.”
She pushes harder against his chest, maintaining the distance between them by force as he tries to lean his face closer to hers. “No, we don’t. I don’t, anyway. And I don’t like kissing people I barely know.”
“Sure, you do. Or you will once I’m done with you, baby girl,” he says, thrusting his bulging pecs into her palms.
“Ew. No. I’m not your baby anything. Stop.” Her biceps shake for a beat before losing the battle against his roid tits. His next push sends her elbows slamming into the cinder block behind her.
The pained sound that escapes her lips is all it takes to carry me across the last few feet between us. My fingers land on Handsy’s shoulders seconds before his fat lips smash into hers.
“Nope,” I grunt, tugging him backward. “Not today, buddy.”
Gripping handfuls of his polo, I swing him around, releasing him on a collision course with the opposite wall. He hits it—hard—and stumbles a few steps before reeling with his fists raised. “What the fuck, asshole? You don’t sneak up on a guy like that. If you want a piece, come at me straight, bro.”
“Leave,” I bark, glaring at him with enough heat to set his stupid pink shirt on fire. “Now.”
He starts forward, but hesitates as he gets a better look at what he’s up against.
He’s a big guy, but so am I. And I’m sober and older and at least five inches taller. Without those lifted tennis shoes, I’m betting Roid Rage isn’t even as tall as Clover.
And he’s a coward, the kind of man who only picks fights he knows he can win, a fact he proves by dropping his fists and whining, “She started it, man. She brought me back here, acting all horny and shit.”
“I did not!” Clover huffs. “I suggested we find a quiet place to talk. To talk. It’s a thing people with more than three brain cells to rub together like to do sometimes, Protein Powder.”
“I don’t want trouble, dude,” he says, ignoring her. “If she’s yours, that’s cool. I’ll just go.”
“Women aren’t property, dipshit, and no means no,” I say, pushing on before he can respond, “but yeah, you should go. Now. Before I decide it’s worth the hassle to smash your face.”
Anger and fear flare in his glassy blue eyes, but he hesitates only a second before backing away.
At the corner, he tosses a petulant, “I don’t like skinny bitches anyway. No cushion for the pushin’,” over his shoulder before sprinting for the door in his haste to escape the fallout of his dumb mouth.
Clover expels an outraged sound, her upper lip curling as she glares after him. “Ew. So much ew.”
As the door slams behind him, she shifts her focus my way, her brow wrinkling as she adds in a rush, “I’m so sorry. Seriously, I just wanted to hear him. That’s it. He kept shouting into my ear with his hot whiskey breath, and I thought if maybe I could…” She winces and shakes her head. “I don’t know what I thought, but I never should have gone anywhere with him. Not even into a hallway in a public place. That was stupid.”
“It was,” I agree, my throat tight. “Very stupid.”
She blinks, clearly surprised by my intensity. “Okay. No need to rub it in. I said I was sorry.”
“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to be careful. Next time, there might not be anyone around to step in.”
Pressing her lips together, she nods. “I know. Believe me, I know. I was just…”
“Just what?” I prompt, my tone still hard.
But fuck, I don’t like how close that was. I don’t like how easily that shit stain was able to overpower her. But what am I going to do about it?
Call Parker’s state rep contact and convince him to propose a law cracking down on recreational steroid use? Arm every woman in New Orleans with a taser so they can zap back when big men press their advantage? Buy a Batman outfit and hunt down every guy named and shamed for sexual assault on that “Get Away from Him, Girlfriend” website that an LSU cheerleader started after she realized her friends had been attacked by the same guy who stalked her in high school?
I don’t know. I don’t know how to protect Clover. How to protect my girls when they’re older. How to protect the other women I love.