Page 66 of Bossy Hero

My instinct is to cower and stay docile. Don’t fight. It always makes it worse.

But he isn’t Travis or my father.

And I’m not a battered woman anymore.

Bending forward, he runs his nose along the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply. My stomach rolls. The sea bass threatens to make a reappearance as he kisses me under my ear and tugs my earlobe between his teeth. The beginning stirring of his erection twitches against my low belly.

Through the fog of panic, I somehow find my words. “Please stop.”

Although he pulls away some, he still braces his arms on each side of me, cutting off my escape.

His eyes grow dark. “We’re not kids, Maddie. We both know what this is.”

I turn my head at the last second, narrowly avoiding a forced kiss. “No. I’m not interested in pursuing this any further. Please step back.”

The lines of his face harden. “We’ll see if you feel the same after this.” Without warning, he slams his lips to mine. His tongue plunges into my mouth uninvited, tasting strongly of the garlic fish he ate. It nauseates me.

I drop my purse and bring my arms between us. With all my might, I shove my palms against his chest. His lips finally pull off mine, and I bellow out my protest. “Stop it, Joe. I said no.”

He stumbles backward from the force of my shove. I try to get into my car before he can recover, but when I spin around, he’s already there. My front slams against the car as he presses against me from behind.

His warm, putrid breath slithers around my neck, nearly cutting off my airway. “This is a fun game. We should take it somewhere private, though.”

His taunting words are silenced, and his weight is yanked off me a split-second later.

By the time I turn around to see what’s happening, another man has Joe by the collar. Keeping his back to me, my white knight shoves my date several steps away. My heart thrashes in my chest like a jackhammer as I watch the scene unfold.

“Hey, who the hell are—” Joe sputters.

A fist flies right into his mouth, cutting off his words. His neck twists, and his face careens to the side from the force of the blow. The second punch, this time from the other direction, sends him to his knees.

I’ve never been so relieved to see violence.

“Get out of here,” my rescuer seethes, bending down to get in Joe’s bloody face and grabbing him under the chin. “And if you ever come near Maddie again, you’ll end up at the bottom of Tampa Bay. Don’t test me, fucker.”

Hearing my name in a familiar voice confirms my suspicion that he isn’t a random passerby who stepped in to help a stranger in need.

This move has my son’s name written all over it. But this man isn’t tall or broad enough. Not his best friend Sawyer either. Even from behind, I can tell he’s too rugged.

I blink frantically, trying to bring my vision into focus despite my chaotic breathing.

Joe rises on shaky legs, his palms splayed out in front of him. “Okay, man. I’m leaving. Fuck.”

With each of his retreating steps, my pulse slows. I stay rooted in place, my backside leaning on my car. If I tried to stand independently, I’d likely hit the ground like Joe did a minute ago.

That prick.

Now that the threat is diminishing, anger replaces my fear. How dare he? Knowing he has to see me again, he still chose to be a total dick bag.

The office is going to be extremely uncomfortable the next time he comes in for a vendor meeting. Time to dust off my résumé.

The man who saved me stands sentry five feet in front of me. His fists press onto his hips, drawing my attention to his corded forearms. A few tendrils of ink curl down toward his wrist on his right arm. Familiar ink.

By the time Joe gets in his car and peels out of the parking lot, my breathing has returned to normal.

I know exactly where I’ve seen the tattoo before. And this glorious backside.

My son must have sent him to watch over me.

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