Page 165 of Holiday Hire

"I don't care what Alexander said. Come on, we're not missing this. Let's go."

"But, Willow?—"

"Get dressed, Phoebe," she demands.

Sighing, I go get dressed, and Paisley's already in the driver's seat by the time we get to the SUV. She suspiciously glances at me, asking, "Why are we going to Booth's?"

"You'll see," Willow answers.

"Willow, I don't know if we should be doing this," I say, wanting to know what's going on in town but also scared about it.

What if Alexander thinks I showed up because of Lance?

Plus, he'll know Willow knows, and now Paisley will too.

"Stop worrying," Willow advises as Paisley takes off down the driveway.

I barely hear anything in the car the whole way there. My insides are a mess.

We pull up to Booth's, and Paisley finds a parking spot down the street. We walk toward the bar, and I pray Lance isn't there. I hope it's a stupid situation with Mason and Jagger that Alexander has to get them out of. But my gut knows it's nothing of the sort. And when I step inside, it's worse than I thought.

Lance is on top of the bar. He's holding up a photo of me, slurring loudly, "This is my woman. My fiancée. Texas, you can't have her."

"Get the fuck off my bar," the bartender shouts.

Alexander grabs Lance's pant leg. He pulls him off the bar and onto his feet.

Lance slurs, "You can't have her. You want her, but you can't have her."

Alexander curls his fist. "Don't!" I cry out, just wanting this entire situation to end.

He doesn't even pause. He slams his fist into Lance's face.

Blood spurts everywhere. Lance goes down and the crowd cheers.

Mason and Jagger clink mugs of ale in the seats next to the scene.

Jagger praises, "Nice one, bro."

Mason gets off his barstool and grabs the photo. He holds it up, asking Alexander, "Do you want me to do something with this?"

Alexander doesn't take his eyes off Lance.

His blood-covered face begins to swell. He spits, "She's mine."

"The hell she is. You better get the fuck out of town and never come back. And if you contact her again, I will kill you," Alexander threatens.

I grab the chair, shaking harder.

Willow puts her arm around my waist. She murmurs in my ear, "See? You're not going anywhere. You're one of us now."

27

Alexander

Blood covers Lance's face, but it doesn't make me want to let him off the hook with just one punch. I pull my hand back again.

"Alexander, stop!" Phoebe cries out.

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