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I grab a handful of the back of his T-shirt and haul him off her. Then I put an arm across his throat and propel him back until he meets the opposite wall with a crash. I’m about four inches taller than him and much heavier, and I hold him there easily.
“Stop it,” I snap as he struggles, banging him against the wall, and he exhales with an ‘oof’ and goes limp.
I look over at Belle. She’s standing there, visibly quivering, both upset and furious, judging by her expression. “You okay?” I demand.
She meets my eyes, then nods. I let Cole go and take a step back, but when he attempts to move, I put a hand on his chest and push him back up against the wall.
Jo tries to put an arm around Belle, but she pushes her away and walks up to stand by my side.
“Sweetie,” Cole says. His surfer-dude hair is lank and greasy, and he’s obviously been drinking. Jesus, what did she see in him? “I just want you back, that’s all.”
She takes a step forward. Then, just as he begins to smile, she brings her knee up sharply, right into his nuts. He groans and bends forward, hands clutching his groin. “Fuuuuck,” he moans.
I laugh and look at her with admiration. “Want me to get rid of him?”
Eyes flashing, she nods, so I take a handful of his tee again and half-guide, half-drag him out through the house to the front door. I open the door, then pause with him on the threshold.
“If she tells me you’ve come within ten feet of her without her permission,” I tell him, “I’ll cut your bollocks off and ram them down your fucking throat, you hear me?” I shake him until he groans and nods, and then I push him out and close the door behind him.
Moving to the window, I make sure he’s wandering off down the road—in the opposite direction to my car—before I turn and see the two girls coming into the room. Judging by the look on their faces, they both heard what I said to him.
“Wanker,” I say, and Jo laughs.
Belle’s not smiling, though. Her cheeks bear twin spots of red. I go up to her, fighting the urge to give her a hug, as I’m sure the last thing she needs is yet more unwelcome physical contact.
“Are you okay?” I murmur. “You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?”
She shakes her head and looks up at me with her huge blue eyes. The fact that she’s only around five-two and the way she always wears her hair in a ponytail makes her look younger, but she is—and has always been, ever since she was a kid—incredibly beautiful, small but in proportion, with lips that naturally curve up, although now her bottom lip is trembling.
“Belle…” My brow furrows.
“I’m not upset,” she insists, “I’m fucking furious.” But she presses her fingers to her lips, and her eyes turn glassy.
“Aw.” I hold out my arms. She closes the distance between us and rests her forehead on my shoulder. I bring my arms up around her and give her a hug, then kiss the top of her head. She feels tiny and fragile, and protectiveness surges through me. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” I tell her, rubbing her back. “He’s history.”
“Fucking arsehole,” Jo says, crossing her arms.
Belle huffs a shivery sigh, then moves back, and I lower my arms. She clears her throat. “I should have listened to you,” she admits to her friend. “I was stupid to go in there with him.”
Jo frowns. “Hey, you didn’t know he was going to do that.”
Belle looks at me. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Didn’t look as if you needed much rescuing,” I reply, amused, thinking of how she kneed him.
She meets my eyes, her lips curving up a little. Then she takes a deep breath and blows it out before saying, “I suppose we need to get a move on.”
“You’re sure you still want to go?”
She nods vigorously. “I’ll just freshen up and get my case.” She disappears back into her room and closes the door.
“Thanks,” Jo says to me. “I’m glad you were here.” She glances over her shoulder, then indicates for me to follow her into the living room. Once we’re there, she looks back at me and says, somewhat mischievously, “So… she’s single now.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“She likes you,” she whispers.
“The last thing she needs is a guy like me,” I reply wryly.
