Page 8 of Wanted By You

“True,” Duke agrees.

I don’t say a word. What am I supposed to say? I’m still trying to figure out what the hell I’d even saytoher if I get the opportunity tonight.

The four of us sit and watch.

We watch Cassidy laugh and chat with Garrett and his friends. A few of her girlfriends show up and yank her around for hugs. They take shots together until most of them disperse with guys or to dance. But not Cassidy, she’s been hit on four times now, by four different men. Each time she smiles kindly with a firm “No, thank you.” and goes straight back to her margarita.

It’s nearing eleven, and she’s downed three shots, a double, and is somehow working on her third margarita. This is about when I start to notice her sway a little. Her cheeks flush and she’s taken off her jacket, exposing her lightly tanned shoulders beneath her hair cascading down to her mid-back.

Garrett’s got some girl on his lap, sucking her face dry. The band starts to play a rock-like tune and Cassidy starts to sway her body to the music. She leans over the bar, saying something to the bartender. He nods as she hands her jacket over the bar, putting it under for her.

She picks up her margarita and moves over to the dance floor. Garrett and the chick follow with their drinks in hand. They start to grind while Cassidy dances alone. Rolling her body slowly, as if she’s feeling every beat from the band.

I wonder for a second if this is my shot.

“Now’s your chance,” Stan says, shoving me hard in the shoulder. “Get in there.”

I hesitate, unsure of myself for the first time in my life. “She’s had too much.”

Duke scoffs. “Isn’t that the point of us sitting here for the last two hours watching her drink? Quit being such a pussy and get the hell over there.”

They’re right. It’s now or never.

I down the remaining half of my beer and stand. As I start to make my way over, I catch sight of yet another prick swaggering over to her and resting a hand on her waist.Shit.I wait a beat, watching, but when Cassidy finally focuses on the guy…she shoves him away.

Being just within earshot, I hear her say, “Get away from me, Colt.”

It’s then I realize who he is. Colt Lewis. Another local I can’t stand, and one I’d love to beat the hell out of, actually. He doesn’t seem to get the message tofuck off, either. He reaches out, roughly grabbing Cassidy’s arm to the point she spills her drink on him. There’s fear in her eyes, plain as day. And rage in his as she tries to violently pull away from him.

“Let me go. Please,” Cassidy cries out.

I move.

Pushing through the crowd to get to her, Garrett attempts to grab Colt, but he shoves him back, causing Garrett to fall into the girl he was dancing with. I fight my way to get around a group of people dancing, watching Colt drag Cassidy to the front door with him.

All I see is red as she starts to cry while desperately trying to break free from his hold. He starts dragging her through the crowd and straight tome. Perfect.

The moment he’s within arm’s reach, I grab him by his neck so tight he releases Cassidy instantly. She stumbles a little, and I catch her by the waist with my other arm, pulling her into me. Having her pressed against me feels…right. I find myself fighting the urge to draw her even closer, to feel as much of her body connected to mine as I can.

It takes her a second to get her footing before she glances up at me with wide eyes filled with tears. I’ve never seen her cry before. And the sight doesn’t sit right with me. My chest tightens as she gazes at me like a sad, lost doe.

I’d do anything to never see another tear fall from those eyes, I realize.

I’m so fucked.

“What thefuck,” Colt spits in my direction, throwing a punch that a toddler could dodge.

Releasing Cassidy, I start to drag this worthless motherfucker through the parting crowd and out the front door. Looks like I’m about to get that fight I was itching for.

Five.

Cassidy

“Cass,” Garrett slurs, comingto stand beside me as I watch Colt get dragged through the crowd and out the front door, by none other than Butch Montgomery. Three men follow them out. While several other people follow suit, no doubt wanting to see a fight. “Shit, Cass, you okay?”

I don’t bother responding, because I amnotokay.

I’m drunk as a skunk and not okay one bit.

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