Her eyes hit mine, and I know she picks up on my tension—read: near panic—when she immediately nods and weaves her fingers through mine.
“Let’s hit it.”
“Got time for one more autograph?”
We both freeze, the hairs on my nape prickling.
The man’s tone is off, and more than a little entitled.
But Jade dutifully turns around, scrawls her name on the poster.
“Just one more,” the man says as she tries to hand the pen back, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a clipboard with several more memorabilia items.
An autograph reseller.
Ugh. I fucking hate these guys.
“I’m sorry,” Jade says, her tone polite but firm. “We’re late and need to head out.” She slips her arm through mine.
“Seriously?” the man snaps, shoving the clipboard in her face. “You took a century with those dumb little kids, but you can’t take two minutes with me?”
“We’re going,” I tell him, shoving the clipboard away.
“Fuck you.”
“Look, man,” I say quietly. “She signed that for you, and you’ll be able to sell it for plenty of money. So take that as a win and shut the fuck up, all right?”
I glance down at Jade. “Let’s?—”
A hand grips my shoulder, yanking me back, tearing my hand from Jade’s, knocking me back a pace.
She cries out as I regain my balance, and I turn to see the asshole in her face.
Touchingher.
My vision is no longer tinged with black.
Instead, it’s red.
I shove the fucker away from her. “Touch her again and I’ll break it off.”
“Fuck off, asshole.” He takes a swing at me.
I swing back. Once.
Because it only takes one punch to eliminate the threat.
He staggers and falls back onto the sidewalk, landing hard on his ass.
“Come on,” I say, taking Jade’s hand as the man rubs his hand over his face, hating all of the cameras pointed in our direction, hating even more that this is going to be all over social media in a matter of minutes.
“Oh, my God,” she whispers.
I hate even more that she’s trembling.
But I deal with the first problem first.
I get her into the car, point us back in the direction of Nashville.