Appalled, she looked around, more upset than she should have been. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and that implacable mask of poise fell into place.
Now, in a much softer tone, she said, “I’m sorry, but I want you to know. Soon as I sell everything, I’ll send you your half. You don’t have to hang around. I’m sure you have other, more important things to do.”
He wanted to do her, and that was as important as it got. She might not realize it, but the more she tried to run him off, the more determined he was to stay. “Understand something, Yvette.”
A little wary, she asked, “What?”
Smiling to soften his inflexible tone, he leaned closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Huffing, she gave in, no longer fighting him as they headed across the floor, but still stiff-necked under his hand.
Good thing he had a healthy ego. He sensed she wanted to avoid something, but he wasn’t convinced that it was him. There was something more going on.
He planned to find out what.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
“We’ll talk when we get home.” They were almost to the door when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
Senses prickling, Cannon turned—then ducked out of reach as someone threw a wild haymaker.
Tucking Yvette back behind him, he said, “What the hell?”
Sour beer breath blasted his face when a man swayed toward him and shouted, “You insulted ’er.”
Looking beyond the idiot slurring his words, Cannon saw Mary watching, her hand over her mouth in dismay. Shit. He hated drama over women. “No insult intended.”
The guy wouldn’t let it go. “You thin’ you’re such a hotshot?”
Sighing, Cannon felt the fascinated gazes of the crowd. The guy challenging him was big and muscular—but not a real match by any stretch. It’d be manslaughter if he took him on. “Look,” Cannon said, “why don’t you let me call you a cab?”
“Fuck you!” He poked at Cannon’s chest. “You were shitty to ’er.”
Cannon caught his hand, jerked him forward then around and put him in a headlock. It’d be so easy to put the guy to sleep...but that didn’t seem fair. He looked up at Mary. “Happy now?”
She gasped. “I didn’t know he’d come after you!”
Without much effort, Cannon contained the wild flailing of the man he held and said to her, “You didn’t put him up to it?”
“No! I would never do that.”
He wasn’t sure if he believed her or not, but it didn’t really change anything anyway. “You know him?”
Miserable, she nodded. “He’s a...friend.”
“Then see that he gets home.” Cannon released the man—then had to push him back when the idiot reached for him again. Pointing at him, Cannon said, “No more.”
Too drunk to listen, the guy tucked down and charged.
Shit, shit, shit. Pulling the punch as much as he could, Cannon struck him with a straight right jab—and watched him sink, boneless, to the floor.
Stepping to the front of the crowd, Rowdy watched the drunk stir. “Sorry, I got here quick as I could.”
“It happened fast.”
“Bar fights usually do.”
That had Cannon snorting. There’d been no fight to it.
“Thanks for going easy on him.”
“No problem.”
Shaking his head, Rowdy said, “You are freakishly calm.”
With a shrug, Cannon said, “Not always, but I’m not going to get bent over a drunk.” He turned—and didn’t see Yvette. He searched the room.
“She’s gone,” Rowdy told him. “Lit out the second you got preoccupied.”
Now, that riled him. Only half under his breath, he muttered, “Fuck.”
The drunken idiot groaned. Together, Cannon and Rowdy helped him to his feet.
“All of you,” Rowdy said to the small group. “Time to go.” They grumbled, but followed Rowdy as he started toward the door. As if they weren’t escorting a bloody-nosed patron and his cronies to the curb, Rowdy asked, “You plan to move in on her?”
In more ways than one. Shrugging, Cannon held the door open as the small group departed with their buddy. “I told you, half of everything is mine.”
The last man, on his way out, handed Rowdy some cash to cover their tab. “Sorry about that.”
“If it happens again, he’s banned from returning.”
That caused more grousing, but a second later they were all gone.
Still by the door, Rowdy rested back on the wall. He stared toward Mary, who’d already moved on to a different tableful of men. “She’s trouble.”
“You could have warned me earlier.”
“You’re a big boy.” When Ella the waitress came by, Rowdy handed the money to her. “Besides, she’s only trouble when she finds an idiot to help her dole it out.”
Ella took a minute to bounce her gaze back and forth between them before sighing dramatically. “Y’all are going to cause a riot if you just stand there looking so mouthwateringly scrumptious.” She patted each of them on the chest and headed off for the cash register.
Cannon grinned after her. He and Ella had hit it off right from the start back when he’d first worked at Rowdy’s. She teased, but never, not once, had she honestly come on to him. He was willing to bet the same was true for her treatment of Rowdy.
Now, in a much softer tone, she said, “I’m sorry, but I want you to know. Soon as I sell everything, I’ll send you your half. You don’t have to hang around. I’m sure you have other, more important things to do.”
He wanted to do her, and that was as important as it got. She might not realize it, but the more she tried to run him off, the more determined he was to stay. “Understand something, Yvette.”
A little wary, she asked, “What?”
Smiling to soften his inflexible tone, he leaned closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Huffing, she gave in, no longer fighting him as they headed across the floor, but still stiff-necked under his hand.
Good thing he had a healthy ego. He sensed she wanted to avoid something, but he wasn’t convinced that it was him. There was something more going on.
He planned to find out what.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
“We’ll talk when we get home.” They were almost to the door when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
Senses prickling, Cannon turned—then ducked out of reach as someone threw a wild haymaker.
Tucking Yvette back behind him, he said, “What the hell?”
Sour beer breath blasted his face when a man swayed toward him and shouted, “You insulted ’er.”
Looking beyond the idiot slurring his words, Cannon saw Mary watching, her hand over her mouth in dismay. Shit. He hated drama over women. “No insult intended.”
The guy wouldn’t let it go. “You thin’ you’re such a hotshot?”
Sighing, Cannon felt the fascinated gazes of the crowd. The guy challenging him was big and muscular—but not a real match by any stretch. It’d be manslaughter if he took him on. “Look,” Cannon said, “why don’t you let me call you a cab?”
“Fuck you!” He poked at Cannon’s chest. “You were shitty to ’er.”
Cannon caught his hand, jerked him forward then around and put him in a headlock. It’d be so easy to put the guy to sleep...but that didn’t seem fair. He looked up at Mary. “Happy now?”
She gasped. “I didn’t know he’d come after you!”
Without much effort, Cannon contained the wild flailing of the man he held and said to her, “You didn’t put him up to it?”
“No! I would never do that.”
He wasn’t sure if he believed her or not, but it didn’t really change anything anyway. “You know him?”
Miserable, she nodded. “He’s a...friend.”
“Then see that he gets home.” Cannon released the man—then had to push him back when the idiot reached for him again. Pointing at him, Cannon said, “No more.”
Too drunk to listen, the guy tucked down and charged.
Shit, shit, shit. Pulling the punch as much as he could, Cannon struck him with a straight right jab—and watched him sink, boneless, to the floor.
Stepping to the front of the crowd, Rowdy watched the drunk stir. “Sorry, I got here quick as I could.”
“It happened fast.”
“Bar fights usually do.”
That had Cannon snorting. There’d been no fight to it.
“Thanks for going easy on him.”
“No problem.”
Shaking his head, Rowdy said, “You are freakishly calm.”
With a shrug, Cannon said, “Not always, but I’m not going to get bent over a drunk.” He turned—and didn’t see Yvette. He searched the room.
“She’s gone,” Rowdy told him. “Lit out the second you got preoccupied.”
Now, that riled him. Only half under his breath, he muttered, “Fuck.”
The drunken idiot groaned. Together, Cannon and Rowdy helped him to his feet.
“All of you,” Rowdy said to the small group. “Time to go.” They grumbled, but followed Rowdy as he started toward the door. As if they weren’t escorting a bloody-nosed patron and his cronies to the curb, Rowdy asked, “You plan to move in on her?”
In more ways than one. Shrugging, Cannon held the door open as the small group departed with their buddy. “I told you, half of everything is mine.”
The last man, on his way out, handed Rowdy some cash to cover their tab. “Sorry about that.”
“If it happens again, he’s banned from returning.”
That caused more grousing, but a second later they were all gone.
Still by the door, Rowdy rested back on the wall. He stared toward Mary, who’d already moved on to a different tableful of men. “She’s trouble.”
“You could have warned me earlier.”
“You’re a big boy.” When Ella the waitress came by, Rowdy handed the money to her. “Besides, she’s only trouble when she finds an idiot to help her dole it out.”
Ella took a minute to bounce her gaze back and forth between them before sighing dramatically. “Y’all are going to cause a riot if you just stand there looking so mouthwateringly scrumptious.” She patted each of them on the chest and headed off for the cash register.
Cannon grinned after her. He and Ella had hit it off right from the start back when he’d first worked at Rowdy’s. She teased, but never, not once, had she honestly come on to him. He was willing to bet the same was true for her treatment of Rowdy.
