Page 8 of Hit the Ground
He gave my arm a jiggle and laughed. “Don’t get all offended. We’re just talking, girl. I’m a friendly guy.”
He gave me a sudden tug, throwing me off balance. My free arm pinwheeled, trying to grab something to hold on to so I didn’t land on my face, but I only succeeded in knocking two glasses onto the ground. Their crash was muffled by the alarm bells ringing in my skull, but even in my panic, I still thought of how smug Joy was going to be about me breaking her glasses. I’d never hear the end of it.
I had those thoughts on my way down—to Bart’s lap or the ground—wherever gravity decided to take me.
I didn’t make it to either.
One second, I was falling, and the next, I was upright, wrapped in two strong arms, the warmth of a solid wall of muscle and the cushion of a soft stomach fitting just right in the arch of my back. I didn’t have to turn around to know I’d ended up in Caleb’s arms. He was exactly how I’d imagined him, and at the same time, nothing at all. He smelled good—like sunshine, a hint of sweat, leather, and the wind. His hold was careful but not tentative. Like I was delicate but not fragile.
I let myself melt against him. Knowing it was fleeting and would end soon enough, I soaked it up, forgetting where I was and what had just happened.
Caleb hadn’t forgotten.
“That’s enough.” His voice didn’t rise. He didn’t snarl. He didn’t puff his chest. But it worked better than any shout or act of violence.
Bart chuckled, trying to play it off. “Hey now, I was only kidding around—”
“You weren’t,” Caleb ground out. “You put your hands on her.”
Then the worst happened.
Caleb let go of me to lean over Bart, speaking to him face to face. “You’re drunk, and you’re running your mouth. Apologize to Alice and see yourself home.”
The tension in the air was thick enough to chew on. The music had gone fuzzy. A few heads turned, but no one interrupted. Bart seemed like he had more to say, but he took a long look at Caleb and decided against it.
My fingers curved into my wet palm. I must have gotten Bart’s drink on my hand when I knocked it over. I’d take care of it…later.
Bart’s jaw worked, like he still had some fight in him, then he grunted. “Jesus. Fine. Sorry.”
“Try again.” Caleb’s voice was crushed gravel.
“Sorry, Alice,” Bart muttered louder, though he didn’t bother looking in my direction.
I nodded, forcing my voice past the tight knot in my throat. “It’s fine.”
I clenched my hand tighter. Something dripped. I’d definitely have to take care of that.
“Nothing’s fine about this.” Caleb moved beside me. We were two soldiers facing down our common enemy. “Get outta here, Bart. And don’t forget to leave a generous tip. Think she deserves it, don’t you?”
He grumbled more, my hand dripped, and Caleb glared. Finally, Joy showed up, shooing us both away.
I hurried toward the bar, hoping for a moment to compose myself. No such luck. Caleb had followed. Composing myself in his presence had always been difficult. Now that he’d saved me and I knew exactly what it felt like to have his arms around me…? Well, it was going to simply be impossible.
“You okay, Alice?” He was so close I could feel his body heat.
It would have been rude if I didn’t turn around to face him and thank him for taking care of Bart. I just wasn’t sure if I could make myself do it.
Before I could make up my mind, Caleb put his hands on me again.
“You’re bleeding.” He cupped my elbow and spun me around, his fingers curling around my wrist the way Bart’s had.
But it wasn’t the same at all.
Caleb’s grip was firm, but he wasn’t hurting me or trying to hold me captive. “You must’ve sliced yourself on the broken glass.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my hand, surprised to see the drips were blood and not vodka. That made a lot more sense. “Oh no. I should clean this off. Joy has a first-aid kit in her office.”
“All right.” Twin lines carved between his eyebrows. “Let’s go.”
