“Ah, come on,” he drawls out, waving me off. “You’re in paradise. One more won’t hurt.”
“No, really,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “I’m fine.”
He turns toward the bartender anyway. “Hey, get this beauty another one. Same thing she’s having now.”
“This one’s on me,” he adds, like he’s done me a favor.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?
“You’re wasting your money,” I finally snap, meeting his gaze. “I said no. I’m not going to drink it.”
His smile falters for half a second before reforming.
“Where you from, little lady?”
I scrunch my nose at him and give him a look that saysgo to hell.
“That’s none of your business,” I grit out.
He chuckles like I’m nothing but a silly little girl.
This fucking asshole.
“Well, I’m from Texas,” he replies, leaning uncomfortably close to me before lowering his voice to a bone-chilling tone. “And where I come from, buying a woman a drink is just Southern hospitality. It’s rude to decline, honey.”
Honey.
I’ve never despised a word so much until now.
My blood turns to ice when his hand sinks underwater and grabs my thigh, way too close to my ass.
It happens so fast, I don’t even have time to react.
My first instinct is pure, blinding rage.
Get. Your. Goddamn. Hand. Off. Me.
When I reach down to yank his arm away, Owen is already there.
Fury bends every line of his handsome face.
Quicker than I’ve seen anybody move in my entire life, Owen plants his palms against the man’s chest and shoves him back forcefully, water sloshing violently as he falls off the barstool.
Instead of letting the man come up for air, Owen grabs the top of his head, tangling his fingers in his silver hair, and shoves his head underwater.
The man’s arms flail, slapping against the surface as he silently begs for air.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Owen bites out through gritted teeth, even though the man can’t possibly hear him. “You worthless piece of shit.”
A huge scene erupts as the patrons abandon their drinks and frantically back away from their stools. The bartender jumps over the counter and reaches for Owen, desperately trying to pull him off the man.
“Owen,” I shout, heart hammering. “Stop! Please.”
He’s shaking, breathing hard through his nose, knuckles white where he’s gripping the man’s hair.
Just when I think the man is going to flop over like a dead fish, Owen releases his hold, and the guy bursts out of the water, sucking in a straining breath as his eyes blow wide. He looks like he almost saw the light.
Hell, he probably did with the way Owen was holding him under.
