Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Dawson,” I say quietly, tugging on the back of his shirt. “Let’s just go.”
“I don’t like mouthy little bitches either,” Dawson repeats. “And from where I’m standing, you’re the only mouthy little bitch around here.”
“Dude, I wasn’t—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dawson roars.
The man flinches but then casts a glance at his friends who are staring at him in stunned silence. He clenches his jaw and stiffens as he turns back to Dawson, caught between not wanting to get his ass beat and not wanting to look like a chump in front of his buddies. My hope is that common sense wins out and the guy backs off. But when testosterone and alcohol are mixed, I’ve learned that common sense rarely wins out.
“Dude, I was just messing with her,” the guy says. “No harm done.”
“And what the fuck made you think you could mess with her like that?”
Dawson’s voice was hard and cold, and the man licked his lips nervously. He keeps cutting glances at his friends, but he’s not getting any help from them. He sniffs loudly, and when he glares back at Dawson, I groan, knowing what’s coming.
“Yeah, well, what’s it to you? She your bitch or something? Because if she is, you should probably teach her some fucking manners—”
The man never gets to finish that statement because Dawson drives his fist into the man’s ample belly. His eyeballs almost bulge out of their sockets and his mouth falls open, a loud “oomph” bursting from his throat as he doubles over, clutching his belly. As the man gasps and wheezes, Dawson puts his hand on the man’s back and bends down so he’s at eye level with him.
“You need to learn some fucking respect, you piece of shit,” Dawson snarls. “And you need to learn that you don’t walk up on women that way. Especially my woman. Am I clear?”
The man gasps loudly and looks like he’s trying to speak but no words come out of his mouth. Nothing but that high-pitched wheezing sound so he just nods.
“I mean it. Learn some goddamn respect,” Dawson says. “If I ever see you in my building again, I’m not going to stop with a punch to the gut. I will beat you bloody. Am I clear?”
“Y—you’re clear.”
“Good boy.”
As Dawson stands back up, a half dozen men in red windbreakers with “Security” stenciled in yellow across the back come running up. Dawson chuckles.
“Johnny on the spot,” he mutters to me.
“Sorry, Mr. Davis,” says the first man to reach them. “We’ll take this from here.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Having somebody posted on the rope line so something like this doesn’t happen again would be another good idea.”
“Yes, sir. We’re sorry about that. We were dealing with another situation.”
“And in the meantime, letting this situation happen.”
“Sorry, Mr. Davis.”
Dawson takes my hand and walks me down the tunnel. I’ll be lying if I say that I hate him rushing into the rescue like that. I don’t totally hate it. I know it goes against my feminist ideals, but seeing him willing to beat somebody who offended me… it’s kind of hot. Okay, it’s really hot and I find something pool low in my belly.
“Ready for dinner?” he asks.
Truthfully, I’m ready for a lot more than that. But I’m not going to tell him that since I’m sure it’s all the adrenaline and endorphins of almost having some large, drunk man beat me senseless just because his team lost.
“I am,” I say simply and offer him a warm smile.
7
DAWSON
“You played great tonight,” Devon says.
“It helped to have a good luck penny up in the stands.”
“I’m sure you do that every night.”
I laugh. “Not this season. Tonight just felt… different.”
I pull to a stop in the parking lot and turn off the engine. I’m not lying. Tonight really did feel different. I’m not going to say I tried harder—I give it my all on every shift on the ice—but there was a different energy inside of me knowing that Devon was in the arena. It’s strange and I can’t explain it, but it just felt like everything was clicking tonight.
“Well, I’m glad it all worked out and that you guys won.”
“I mean, you realize you’re going to have to come to every game now. You’re obviously my lucky penny.”
She laughs and even in the dim lighting in the cab, blush rises on her cheeks. A soft rain comes out of nowhere and starts to fall, the raindrops tapping on the roof of my SUV with a pleasant, almost musical sound to it. We sit in silence for a couple of moments, the air in the cab suddenly feeling tense, awkward, and charged with a sense of anticipation. Devon turns to me and smiles.
“Thank you for tonight. Dinner was incredible and I had an amazing time.”
“You’re very welcome.”