Page 118 of Mistletoe Mischief

Brodie’s dark expression dissolved into one of malice. “Hey, no worries. I just wanted to see what it was like to fuck a fat girl.”

Delilah reeled back like he’d slapped her, and Ryler clenched her fist. Anthony was right. This dude was a motherfucker.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Delilah said dryly, and Ryler wanted to cheer her on.

“As soon as Anthony’s done with you, he’ll share with the class if you were worth the effort.”

Ryler watched Anthony take Delilah’s shoulders and moved her out of the way. “Take care of her for me, would ya?”

“Anthony, don’t—” Delilah told him, but it was too late. Pike wrapped his arms around Delilah and hauled her backward seconds before Anthony threw the first punch. Pike lost his footing and almost stumbled, but Ryler placed her hands at the small of his back, keeping him upright. Pike looked at her over his shoulder, his expression fierce.

“Both of you get out of here, alright? I’ll come get you when it’s over.”

Ryler nodded, catching Delilah when Pike dropped her out of harm’s way after Trip sent a swift upper cut into Anthony’s stomach. Pike yelled, “Ah, hell no! No tag teams!”

Pike grabbed Trip and flipped him onto his back. Another of Brodie’s crew went after Pike, and he cracked the guy across the jaw, sending him spinning away. Ryler’s heart seemed to stop when Pike turned back around with a grin, taunting the remaining men with a come-on motion with both hands. “Step up, kiddies. I’ve got plenty to go around.”

Ryler heard Delilah’s groan and noted the disgusted look on her face, wishing she could feel the same. Watching Pike’s cocky exuberance shouldn’t be turning her on, but as he took out one after another of them, Ryler wanted to whoop and cheer.

Delilah, on the other hand, whimpered, and Ryler followed her line of sight to Anthony, who had Brodie in a headlock, kicking at another goon.

Ryler put her arms around Delilah’s shoulders. “How about we go to urgent care while they sort this out?”

Delilah nodded, letting Ryler lead her away.

“Why are men such idiots?” Delilah asked.

“If I had that kind of information, do you think I’d be an assistant? Girl, I’d be president, saving the idiots of the world from themselves.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Hey, man,” Anthony said, clearing his throat. “Thanks for jumping in.”

Pike rested the back of his head against the wall with his eyes closed, thinking about the hours he could have been wrapped up with Ryler. Taking a hot shower to ease his aching muscles, then convincing her to give him a back rub that he would gladly return with tax. Instead, he was sitting in the Mistletoe police station, in a jail cell with Anthony, all the while sitting next to the smelly, bloody, and beaten idiots they’d been fighting with. Every part of him hurt, especially his face, but at least Anthony was happy with his comradery.

“Sure, what are friends for but to have your back when you start a fight with six guys?” Pike heaped a hefty dose of sarcasm into his tone so his friend wouldn’t miss his irritation.

Anthony gave him a hard nudge with his shoulder. “Hey. What’s your problem?”

Pike opened his eyes to glare at him. “You’re supposed to be the smart, level-headed guy in this friendship. Instead, you’re betting our equipment and getting into fights that lead to us sitting in a jail cell facing possible charges. It’s like you’ve been replaced by a pod person!”

“So, because you have me to curb your spending, you think volunteering us for everything is fine because I’ll create a budget?” Anthony snapped. “News flash, sometimes the budget is too much.”

“Uh-oh. I think the lovers next door are fighting,” Trip said, earning a chuckle from a few of his friends.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Pike hollered.

“Why don’t you make me, Lucky the Leprechaun?”

“I thought I already did,” Pike said, pointing to his mouth. “Nice lip, Trip. Looks like it split open again.”

Trip touched his fat lip, which had split open and started oozing blood. “You’ll pay for that later.”

“Stop your whining, you big boobs!” Officer Wren barked from the other room, the stomp of her boots growing louder before she cleared the hallway and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at them. Her blond hair was pulled back in that severe bun that reminded Pike of an angry librarian instead of an officer of the law.

“If you weren’t fighting like a bunch of middle schoolers,” she said, her tone acidic, “you wouldn’t be hurting so damn bad.”

Pike laughed. “You tell them, Wren.”