Page 46 of Screwed
Callie laughed, but he heard the tension in it. “That’s a terrible line. Does it actually work for you?”
The guy beside her smirked. “Hell yeah.” He shifted closer, as if he were smelling Callie’s hair.
“Back off, man,” Cash growled, lowering his arms. His hands curled into fists. The guy frowned at him. “Yeah, you.”
“She told us she’s single.”
“She’s not single, she’s mine, so back off.”
“Maybe we should ask the lady?” The dude in his chair leaned forward. “You want us to leave, sugar?”
Callie didn’t even hesitate, a worried look shadowing her eyes. “Um, it would probably be best.”
“You don’t sound very sure.” The guy leered at her.
Cash lost his patience. “She’s trying to be polite, asshole.” He grabbed the guy by the back of the shirt and lifted him out of the chair. The guy sputtered and flailed his arms, trying to wrench out of his grip. Cash gave him a shove and released him. “Now get the fuck away from her.”
“Cash!” Callie jumped to her feet, her eyes huge.
The guy’s face was now red, and he charged at Cash and took a swing. Distracted for a second by seeing Callie stand, Cash tried to evade the punch but took it on the side of his head. “Oh fuck no.” He drew back and threw a punch of his own.
“Hey, you can’t hit my brother!”
The second guy leaped across the table, knocking over the empty glasses. One of them shattered on the floor, the other rolled across the table. Callie lunged and grabbed it, then actually tried to grab the guy jumping the table by fisting his T-shirt.
“Callie, get back!”
“Cash, stop it! Oh my God!”
One dude grabbed him from behind and the other was trying to punch his face. Jesus Christ.
Vaguely aware of other bar patrons gathering around and some shouts, Cash shoved his elbow back into the ribs of the guy behind him, once, twice. The guy grunted and dropped, and Cash laid a series of blows on the other man, blocking a shot with his forearm, then landing an uppercut that had the jerk falling to his knees.
He whirled around in case the other man was coming at him again, but the bouncer and one of the big bartenders had the guy in a hold. Cash relaxed his arms, adrenaline rushing through his veins, making his skin tingle and his muscles tight. Another bartender pulled the other dude to his feet. The brothers glared at him.
He looked at Callie, standing nearby with her hands over her mouth.
“Let’s go, darlin’.”
Her eyes widened. He threw down a bunch of money, more than enough to cover their drinks and broken glasses, took Callie’s arm, and led her out of the bar into the late-afternoon heat. He stalked through the parking lot toward his truck, yanked open the door, then lifted her onto the seat.
“Cash!” she protested again.
He paused, leaning his forearm along the doorframe, his breath still coming in choppy bursts.
She stared at him. “Your lip…”
He touched his fingers to his throbbing bottom lip and drew them away with blood on them. Shit. His knuckles burned, too. He glanced at the blood there as well and shook his hand.
“Oh my God.” Callie glared at him. “What was that?”
“That, darlin’, was a bar fight.” He grinned. Heh. That had actually been kind of fun. It had been a while since he’d thrown down in a bar.
“That was not necessary!”
“Sure it was. They were hitting on you.”
“It was fine! I could handle them.”
