Page 12 of Merry With A Milkman

seven

Rhone

Between helping Steve, my own planning and the moments Tegan and I find to be together the week flies by. With her encouragement I’ve made more business progress and decisions that I believed possible. Or needed. Now I’ve got news to share with her this evening at the small business meeting.

Then I’ll take her out to dinner to celebrate. Even though she hasn’t mentioned her—request—again, I can’t shake the possibilities from my mind. Or my nightly dreams. Her kisses are sweet and hot enough to melt ice. I’m more than ready to honor her request, to worship her body and prove she made the right choice. A forever choice.

The Sandy Sipper lot is nearly full and the bar is crowded with groups focused on the suspended television screens. A quick glance confirms they’re showing a hockey match with a local team, the Charleston Renegades. As I cross toward the patio entrance the sense of being watched raises an alert in my system, a feeling I thought had grown dormant since leaving the military.

My focus narrows and I pause to pat my pockets like I’m looking for something.

There. In the corner sitting so he can see the doors as well as the entire interior. A shaggy-haired man dressed in a biker’s cut displaying a few patches. There’s no acknowledgement when our gazes clash but as I stop my pocket search he makes a barely perceptible motion. A signal. Not to me. Who?

Angling toward the bar, I flip open my folio and page through a few loose sheets. Tapping my finger on one page will show anyone watching I’ve found what I was looking for. I have. The signal is responded to by Pax, the owner’s husband. Interesting. He does have the manner and attitude of someone who was a member of some special forces. Since he barely glances in my direction before turning to pour a draft, I must have passed muster.

Wondering what the men are waiting for, I stride onto the patio. It’s a mass of people out here, too. Tegan waves from a corner where the members of our small business group are crowded around a table. The only open chair is across the table from her. Although I need to touch her, I’ll settle for simply looking at her. It’s probably a good idea to maintain some distance during the meeting.

Unfortunately one of the guys who walked out of the first meeting is back tonight. He’s snagged the seat next to Tegan and I frown as he smirks and inches the chair closer to her. She doesn’t notice.

“Glad you’re here, Rhone, so let’s get started,” she says as she passes out paper-clipped packets of information. “I apologize to all of you. I forgot there was a Renegades match today. So we’ll keep this quick so you can get back to hockey.” She holds my gaze. “Or whatever.”

Tegan takes us rapidly through the provided information and legal forms and less than thirty minutes later, the groupdisperses. With a laugh she promises to double check the sports schedule before the next meeting.

I remain seated while she speaks with her friend Boots and let my attention wander. Big mistake. When Boots passes my chair I focus on Tegan. She’s trapped between the wall and the table by that guy. He leans over her, trying to intimidate her. She rebukes his attempts at flirtation but there’s an aura of rising fear surrounding her.

He reaches out to curl a strand of her soft hair around his finger. I surge to my feet and round the table. With the front of his shirt crushed in my fist, I lift until he’s forced to his toes. “Leave. Her. Alone.”

He lifts his palms toward me. “Hey man. Didn’t know she’s taken.”

That attitude fails to impress me. I get in his face and lower my voice. “Taken or not, when a woman, hell when anyone says no, it means no. You need to listen.”

“Dude. Sometimes they want to be persuaded.”

A growl rumbles in my chest and I glance at Tegan. Her gaze dances between me and the scumbag I really hate right now. “Did you want to be persuaded?

Her eyebrows lower and she glares at her would-be suitor. “No. Not tonight. Not last week. Not ever.”

There’s my strong woman. I smile my approval. “What do you want me to do with this piece of shit?”

The guy struggles and I curl my fist to tighten my grip. Tegan’s eyes widen as someone moves behind me.

“Trouble?” The deep voice belongs to the bartender, Pax. I’m not planning to beat down this slime, especially not in a public place. However getting him kicked out would be immensely satisfying.

“This, uh, gentleman is bothering Ms. Drake and won’t take no for an answer.”

Pax’s hand comes down heavily on the scumbag’s shoulder. I release his shirt, take a step back and flex my fingers. Tegan moves to my side and leans closer when I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

Pax nods once before poking his finger hard into scumbag’s chest. “You’ve been warned about this before.”

“Hey man, it’s a bar. It’s what?—”

Pax’s arched eyebrow stops the man from continuing his whine.

“A bar where everyone is safe and ‘no’ is a damn good answer. You are no longer welcome as a customer of the Sandy Sipper. Get out. Now.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can and I have.” Pax turns a more relaxed expression to Tegan. “I can call the cops if you’d like to press charges.”

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