Page 43 of Pretty Little Scars

“Thanks, boss,” he says but looks down at Darby. “But are you sure? I can stay?—”

“You’re having ababy. Get out of here.”

He nods and rushes off to his truck. Seconds later, Easton comes running into the barn and stops cold, taking in the scene.

“I’m pressing charges,” Darby says before anyone else can say anything as she wiggles out of my arms and points at Peter. “He assaulted me, and I’m pressing charges.”

Easton glances at me, then at Darby, and finally at Peter.

“What is it with you and your inability to keep your fucking hands to yourself?” Easton demands, and Peter spits on the ground.

“She asked for it.”

Easton pins me in place with a glare before I can punch the asshole again, and Darby laughs.

She fucking laughs.

“Oh, trust me, I didn’task for it, you sick moron. Number one, you’re not my type. Number two, I told you no several times. And number three, if I’d asked for it, you wouldn’t have had to try to wrestle me to the ground. You’re pathetic. I hope they put you away and throw away the fucking key.”

I think I just fell in love with her.

Seriously.

How do you not love this woman?

“Come on,” Easton says, pulling Peter to his feet.

“You’re arresting me?” Peter demands, resisting, trying to pull out of Easton’s grasp, but my brother is a badass and has no problem keeping the other man in hand.

“I don’t know yet,” Easton replies, sounding bored. “I’m taking you to my car so I can talk to Darby without you giving her shit.”

When they leave the barn, I slip my hand into Darby’s, and she links her fingers with mine, holding on tight. I feel a slight tremor in her touch, and it makes me want to pull Peter back in here and pound his face into the dirt.

“Talk to me, Duchess.”

“I’m going to need a shot of whiskey after this.” She clears her throat. “To start.”

“You got it. You can have anything you want.”

“Okay, now that dickhead is safely in the back of my squad car, tell me what happened,” Easton says as he strides back into the barn, looking right at Darby.

“He was working on the horses. Their hooves. I was also working with the horses, but I would lead them to the paddock to brush them and coo over them.”

She goes over the past hour with us, and it all sounds pretty normal, until she gets to the last few minutes of being alone with Peter.

“And then he turned ... predatory. That’s the only word I have for it. He clearly doesn’t like to be told no.”

Easton nods. “Did he put his hands on you?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate and doesn’t flinch.

My brave girl.

“Did he hit you?”

“No, he grabbed my shirt and got it pulled up under my armpits and tried to kiss me, which made me throw up in my mouth a little. Gross.”

She definitely needs whiskey to clean that off her palate.