“They’re also responsible for this town taking a complete fucking nosedive,” Hazel mutters.
“That’s the ranch trying to put Honey Bea out of business?” Gemma hisses, sitting up straight. “Oh, fuck no!”
My brows crash together. What the hell are they talking about? There’s another big ranch here?
The group closes in fast—three guys, all tan, grinning white teeth, and obviously aware of how hot they are, heading straight for us. Everyone tenses.
“Well, well. Looks like the Saddle just got a whole lot prettier.”
“If you’re insinuating it’s because you showed up, Clint,” Hazel drawls, drumming her nails across the table. “I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”
Emmy flashes them a smirk and bats her lashes. “Sadly, I’d have to agree. All that money, and you still can’t buy better personalities?”
“All beauty and no brains, ain’t that right, Em?” The guy named Clint grins wider, his eyes rolling down her body. “Don’t worry. A man don’t care about smarts when you’ve got a tight little pussy, do they?”
Her cheeks turn pink and he chuckles like that wasn’t rude as hell.
“Go find someone else to gawk at. No one here wants to look at ya,” Loretta barks, waving them off.
“No.” One of Clint’s friends scoffs. “No one wants to look atyou,Granny.”
The two start to argue, but I tune them out, my gaze snagging on Hazel’s hands. They’re bunched up on the table, partially hidden behind her curtain of hair, fists so tight, her knuckles are bleached white.
And Gemma… Gemma looks like she’s about two seconds from using the glass bottle as a bat.
Clint turns the full weight of his attention on me and saunters around the table, closing the distance between us and pinning me in place. His friends follow, and Hazel slides from her chair, jaw tight, Gemma right behind her. I spin my chair, not wanting the creep at my back, but I can’t get up with him blocking me like this.
“Well, sugarpuss. Don’t think we’ve met.” He bites his lip, ugly sparse mustache twitching with the movement. “Get on your knees, and I’ll introduce myself proper.”
Ew. Absolutely not.
“You couldn’t pay me to get on my knees for you, you tiny-dicked cretin.”
Clint chuckles, dark eyes glazing over like he thinks this is some kind of fucked-up foreplay. “That right?”
I let my gaze drag from his overpriced boots to that smug, punchable smirk, and curl my lip in disgust. Hate men like him. He reminds me of Abby’s ex.
“You clearly didn’t hear my friends the first time, so let me break it down real slow in a way your tiny brain will understand: nobody at this table wants anything to do with you. Least of all me.” I smile sweetly. “Now scurry along. Your fragile masculinity and tiny dick energy is dripping on my boots.”
“Doesthisfeel tiny to you, sugarpuss?” he mutters, licking his lower lip and grinding the hard ridge of himself against my thigh.
My temper flares red hot, as disgust and shock assault my senses.
“Don’t touch me, asshole!” I snap, shoving Clint and his unwanted touch away from me.
He stumbles back and hits another table, sending drinks and a chair tumbling to the ground, but he quickly rights himself. His friends step back, eyes wide, and I sense the girls around me jumping to their feet, shouting words I can’t hear.
Before I can blink, he’s back in my face, his hand around my throat, and I just…freeze.
“I don’t know who you think you are, you little cunt—”
“Get your fuckin’ hands off my woman,” a low, deadly voice rumbles. “Now.”
And then…
Clint is justgone.
Chapter Twenty Six
