Page 111 of Mountain Wood

It takes all my control to not stab his tires in the parking lot. Of course, I’d also need a knife to do that, and Dean refused to let me bring anything sharp to play with.

That’s fair.

There’s no telling how far I’d go with it.

Besides, he’s way better with the axe than I am and yes, he brought it with us.

Dean shoves the bar door open and heads straight for Bryson.

The dumb fuck smiles when he sees him coming. That smile, however, wipes clean off his face when Dean grabs him by the back of the neck and slams his face flush against the bar top.

“Apologize,” he growls.

I sit next to Bryson and ignore the eyes of a half-dozen people in here for lunch.

“A-po-lo-gize,” Dean repeats, grinding Bryson’s face harder into the lacquered wood.

The bartender leans back and watches without a hint of surprise on his face.

“For what?” Bryson grits out. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You got Grace all worked up.” Dean leans into his ear. “She was upset.” His jaw clenches. “Do you know what I do to assholes who upset my girl?” He yanks Bryson up by the collar and slams him back down on the bar again.

Bryson laughs.

So, Dean calmly lays the axe in front of his face as a quiet threat.

Fear flashes in Bryson’s eyes.

“You’re done, Mr. Morgan.” He tries to shove upwards, but Dean’s got him pinned. “You can threaten me all you want, but there’s no stopping the inevitable. I told you that land was mine. Now it will be.”

The bartender stops drying the beer glass. “What’s he talking about?”

I address the whole bar. “This cocksucker has been doing all he can to sabotage Bear Creek Cabins so he can buy it out from under Dean.” Maybe me sharing that was a little too over the line but Dean needs more people in his corner.

“Is that true?” the bartender asks Dean. I recognize him from the first night I came to this town. I think his name’s Jesse.

“Yeah,” Dean growls. “And he just fucked up big time because now he’s involved Grace.”

“I didn’t—”

“Youdid,” Dean snarls. “Are you in the same town as her? Breathing the same air as her? That means you involved her. I fucking told you to stay away.” His knuckles are white with how fiercely he’s gripping Bryson’s neck. “You didn’t listen.”

Someone behind me locks the door.

Everyone else stands up and closes in on us.

“You go after one of our own, you go after all of us,” Jesse says, gently placing the beer glass down and picking up a baseball bat.

“Say you’re sorry,” I urge. “At least give yourself a fighting chance here, Bryson. I don’t think you’ll have teeth left after this.”

Do I really think we’re going to have a beat down?

Maybe.

But I don’t want Dean in trouble, and the fact that all these people are now at his back… we’ll make headline news.

“Sorry,” he spits out.

---