Page 14 of Perfect Cowboy

“No, we weren’t,” I snap, trying to pull away from Mark. But his arm is locked around my waist like a vice.

“Let her go,” Gavin states flatly.

“This is none of your business,” Mark replies.

“Look, I hate her, too, but you’re getting way out of line,” Gavin says.

Hates me.

There’s that word again.

And, Jesus, it hurts.

“If you hate her, then let her get what’s coming to her,” Mark replies.

“Listen, buddy, I’m not going to tell you again to let her go,” Gavin says. “Don’t make me embarrass you by laying your ass out, okay? Ashley is going to leave on her own, and you’re going to back off. Right now.”

Gavin gestures for the server to come over and requests that my food is wrapped up, all the while keeping his eyes on where Mark’s arm is still locked around me.

“Are you having a hard time understanding me?” Gavin asks.

“You can’t still be pussy whipped over this girl.”

“No, man, I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to stand here and let you hurt her.”

“She would have liked it,” Mark replies, with a sneer.

“You’re out of warnings.”

Gavin advances on us and Mark’s hand instantly drops away, filling me with relief so strong that I could collapse.

“This isn’t over, Ashley,” Mark says, before stalking back to his friends.

Hopefully, he’s just trying to save face and isn’t actually going to come after me. Even so, I’ll be latching the deadbolt tonight.

And maybe pushing the dresser against the door.

Gavin grabs the packed-up food and passes the server two twenty-dollar bills.

“You don’t have–” I start.

But Gavin just shakes his head and sets his hand on the small of my back, leading me toward the exit and relative safety of the parking lot.

There isn’t a set of eyes in the place that isn’t glued to us.

The cold night air instantly chills my skin, but it’s a welcome change from the fear and panic that was making me sweat inside the Moose.

We walk in silence and I basically have to run to keep up with him. When we reach the SUV, anger pours off Gavin in waves.

“I told you to go back where you came from,” he says. “Chaos follows wherever you go around here.”

“It’s not my fault that men can’t control their impulses.”

“You’re right, it isn’t. And that’s why I stepped in to help you. Again. Are you counting on me always being around to prevent you from getting hurt?”

“I would have figured it out. I don’t need you,” I mutter, which is definitely not true.

Mark could have easily overpowered me, and there would have been nothing I could do except scream for help that wouldn’t have come.

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