Page 25 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“Sounds like quite the pickle,” Janna said.

Pickle groaned. Laser burst into laughter. And me? I was staring at her mouth. Her saucy, sassy little mouth.

The server came back around. “You guys want another round?”

“Yes, please,” Janna said.

We all agreed to have another round.

“Beer?” I questioned Janna after the server left.

“You here to critique my drink choice now, too?” She snapped the question and didn’t even try to hide her irritation.

“Relax, princess. No one is critiquing you.”

That earned me a hard glare. And a blush.

Laser leaned over to Pickle, grinning. “You hear that? He gave her a nickname. That must mean he likes her.”

Janna scowled. “I’d rather be set on fire than be called princess.”

I grinned. “Stick around long enough, you might get your wish.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Laser!” A male voice cut off any retort she was about to shoot back at me. “We need to talk.”

Wild Bill stalked toward our table.

Laser sighed. “Not now, Bill. We were having a nice night.”

“We need to talk,” he insisted, ignoring everyone else. “What the fuck? You’re fucking around with this punk now?”

“Punk?” Pickle repeated. “I’m going to assume you’re talking about me, because you’re not dumb enough to talk about Herc like that.”

Bill didn’t even look at him. “Outside, Laser. Now.”

Laser stood up, her shoulders back and a look on her face that could cut through steel. “I’m not going anywhere with you while you’re being a dick.”

“You’re fucking Pickle now?”

“Shut your mouth, Bill,” I warned.

Laser’s nostrils flared. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to.”

Janna stood. “Laser, come on. Let’s go.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Bill snapped at Janna.

That’s when I got up. “Don’t,” I warned.

Janna had grabbed Laser’s hand and was pulling her out of the bar. Bill made a move like he was going after them, but I stepped in his path.

“Let them go,” I said.

He blinked. “What?”

I squared my shoulders. “You heard me.”

He didn’t like that. “Stay out of it, Dalton. This isn’t your business.”

“She made it my business when she told you to leave her alone.”

His lip curled. “You always got something to prove, don’t you?”

“I don’t have to prove anything,” I said, stepping closer. “But you sure as hell do.”

Bill tried to shove past me to go after the women. I didn’t let him. “Nope,” I said.

He swung.

Big mistake.

I caught the punch with my forearm, then answered with a right hook that cracked clean across his jaw. His head snapped sideways as he stumbled back. “Motherfucker! Herc, dammit!”

Pickle winced. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

I shook out my knuckles and walked toward the door without another word. I wasn’t worried anyone was going to call the cops or Bill was going to come after me. It wasn’t the first time we’d thrown punches and it wouldn’t be the last.