Page 12 of The Cowboy's Off Limits Option

His hand is out for me like he expects me to take it without question, and I'm more than willing to do just that, when Mel steps in front of me, blocking my way.

"Who the fuck are you?" It rumbles out of the big man in front of me, sounding more like a dare than a question.

Mel puts his hands on his hips and widens his stance. When I try to step around him, I feel a meaty hand land on my shoulder, making it clear I'm not to move.

Archer stops just outside of Mel's reach and matches his posture, facing off against him.

Archer looks...hot. I mean, he's taller than Mel. Younger. Inwaybetter shape. And, while the thug blocking my escape stands like he's ready to start throwing punches, Archer's posture is casual. Standing with confidence but not aggression. He looks like there's no question in his mind that he can take this guy.

My panties go wet. I think they just melted. My ovaries might have exploded.

The problem is, Big Mel isn't alone, but as time grinds to a stop as the standoff stretches out, it looks like Archer is.

Archer

"I'm her man,and I'm here to take her home. Let her go and there won't be any trouble."

Look, I'm not gonna pretend I haven't gotten into my share of scrapes in my time. I can take a punch almost as well as I can throw one. Hell, me and the guys have even scrapped right here in the Tollhouse.

But these guys are huge. There's five of them, and they look like ripping arms off guys like me is their idea of a relaxing evening.

I watch Callie's eyes go wide when I tell the entire bar that she belongs to me. Hopefully, she doesn't call my bluff. Guys like these seem to be the type that respect a man's ownership of a woman-- fucked up as that might sound-- and that might be theonlything they respect.

"Seems like you must not be keeping the lady satisfied for her to be showing up down here dressed like that."

The voice comes from one of the men behind me, sounding closer to my back than where they'd been gathered at the bar when I walked in.

Behind the guy blocking her from me, Callie wears an odd expression-- and a skimpy outfit that shows off her killer curves. The fringed hem of a cut-off denim mini skirt grazes her legs at mid-thigh, while the red halter top tied around her neck and waist shows enough of her soft, smooth skin and deep cleavage to momentarily have me forgetting that I might just have to fight my way to her.

But if that's the way it's going to be, I'll make these fuckers regret getting in my way.

Outside the door, the usual cricket and frog sounds of the country night are drowned out by the roar of engines approaching. The sound gets louder and soon the crunch of wheels on gravel is added to the cacophony.

More bikes.

Shit. Did one of the guys at the bar call for back up from the rest of their gang?

A tall figure emerges from the shadows at the back of the room, filling the doorway that leads to the outside.

"Sounds to me like we're in the middle of a lover's spat," Rowdy Ralston says cooly, as he walks farther into the room. "Maybe y'all want to let these kids go make up somewhere private."

Rowdy presses one fist against the heel of his other hand, cracking his knuckles loudly in the quiet that's fallen in the barroom since the bikes pulling up outside have gone quiet.

The trouble with a Ralston, is that you can't trust 'em. He called to tell me Cal was down here, but now he's staring me down across the room, obviously preparing for a fight-- and I can't tell which side he'll be on once fists start flying.

"What's it to you, Ralston?" One of the meatheads behind me asks, sounding friendly enough with Rowdy to have me worried.

"What's it toyou?"

A group of men walk through the front door together and line up in formation once they're clear of the entrance.

They all wear biker leathers, but it's clear they aren't with the other guys. The new guys are younger, fitter, more sober, and they move together in a manner that suggests they're used to fighting together.

The guy behind Callie takes his hand off her shoulder and she dashes toward me, falling against my chest as I wrap my arms around her.

The meaty crack of a fist connecting to a jaw cuts my relief short.

"Let's go."

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