Page 223 of Pucking Sweet

Anderson balks at Lukas’s approach, shoving my sister away. She cries out, stumbling down to the paver stones as Lukas lunges, slugging Anderson in the jaw. It’s a K.O. punch that sends Anderson falling backward like a sack of flour. He drops to the ground and doesn’t move.

“Ohmygod, is he dead?” Violet shrieks, crawling on her hands and knees over to him.

Lukas drops to one knee, feeling for his pulse. “Nah, he’s alive,” he assures us.

I let out a shaky breath of relief, tears falling. Colton presses in behind me.

“He’s just out cold,” Lukas adds. “A doc should check if I broke his jaw. I sure tried hard enough.”

“Well, that was a fucking assault!” Rowan shouts, striding toward us.

Lukas stiffens and turns, ready to face my brother.

“Don’t fucking move, asshole! I’m calling the police right now. I saw what you did.”

Ignoring him, Lukas stands. “What you saw was me protecting your sister. It was Anderson who did the assaulting!”

Violet is still on her knees, mascara running down her cheeks. “Ro, it’s true.”

“What the hell is happening out here?”

I take a deep breath as our dad appears, striding down the path behind Rowan. He steps past my brother and surveys the scene. His gaze is murderous as he looks from Anderson’s prone body to Violeton her knees to Lukas, still panting. Slowly, Daddy turns to me. “Poppy, explain.”

“Violet and Anderson were arguing—”

“I didn’t see an argument,” says Rowan. “I saw one of your boyfriends punch Anderson’s damn lights out!”

“Because you’re a day late and a dollar fucking short,” Lukas shouts. “He had his hands on your sister!”

Daddy turns to me. “Go on, Poppy.”

Next to him, Rowan huffs, arms crossed as he glares at Lukas.

“She wanted to call off the wedding,” I go on. “But he didn’t. Apparently, they have a financial agreement. He said he wouldn’t walk away until he got his money back.”

Daddy looks to Violet. “Is this true?”

She nods.

“How much?”

She rises shakily to her feet, the knees of her pristine white dress now stained and ruined. “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

“How much, Violet?” he shouts.

She flinches back, lip trembling. “Ten million in total. He paid me 3.3 million already. I was going to get another 3.3 when we married tomorrow ...”

“Jeezus,” Rowan mutters. “And let me guess, you already spent it all?”

“Quiet, Rowan,” Dad warns.

Rowan bristles but crosses him arms again.

“And the last third?” Dad asks with a raised brow.

She’s quiet for a moment, embarrassed to own the truth right to his face. “When you helped him win his first election. He wanted to run for Senate next year.”

Dad sighs. “Lord have mercy. Anderson has all the potential of a state senator, maybe a mayor, but the town’s gotta be small ... and solidly red.” He rubs a tired hand across his brow. “What a goddamn mess.”

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