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“I like you better when you’re not wearing jeans, baby.”
He was a whole shelf of pepper spray, even if she could get it near his eyes before he had her against the wall.
He didn’t deserve the benefit of doubt but she gave it to him anyway. You could take the girl out of Nice, Lake County, California, population two thousand, nine hundred and four, but try as she might, she’d never been entirely able to shake it out of the girl.
“Please let me pass.” She should go inside and hang out with Ahmed while he cleared up, till big wheels here got bored and left, but she was desperately tired and wanted her bed and he pissed her off.
“Ah Lux, babe, I just want to spend some quality time with you. Fuck you nice and hard. Know you’d like that, a flexy little cock-tease like you. It won’t take long.”
He said that last part as if it was a recommendation for his services. Unwanted sex done fast. Rape in three minutes flat, or your money back.
She looked him in the eyes. He scared her, but she refused to be afraid. “You need to step aside and let me through.”
“That’s not what you need.” He put both hands to his dick and thrust. “I’ve got what you need.”
She flicked her chin up. “You’ve got a hot bath and a plate of mac and cheese in your pants. Color me impressed.”
He blinked, a frown crumpling his forehead. The guy was truly confused about things not going his way.
“You don’t know anything about me.” She gestured back to the entrance. “What you saw in there is dancing. It’s not an invitation to have sex. Please step aside.”
A robust shake of his head. “Not happening till I get what I want.”
What he got was less what he wanted than a fuckwit like him deserved.
She stepped into him and brought her knee up hard on a fast hop, connecting with his undercarriage. Surprise forced his mouth into the shape of an Edvard Munch scream, and he folded forward and fell on his side, his breath forced out in a long stuttering wheeze.
She stepped around his bulky form, watching that he didn’t try to grab her ankles, and when she looked up, there he was, Mr. Brooding Back Booth. He stood at the end of the alley, one hand braced on the brick wall.
“Are you okay?” he said.
For a guy who could barely stay upright he had a commanding tone. She didn’t realize how tall he was; he was always seated in that booth. “I’m fine.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“I got in first.”
“That’s what I saw, you bringing him down. You shouldn’t be here.”
Fantastic. It must be two for one maniac night. “Oh, so it’s my fault, I get accosted, propositioned and threatened.”
“What you do isn’t safe.”
“So totally my fault then.”
“Not what I said.”
Behind her maniac one started cursing. And now this guy was going to lecture her. He was too tanked to have come to her aid, not that she’d needed him to, but he still thought it was appropriate to share his holier than thou opinion. He wasn’t a threat, she could probably push him over, but he was a dick all the same.
“What I do isn’t safe from sprains and breaks, but I should be perfectly safe from abuse leaving my job.”
“But you’re not.”
Why was she trying to reason with him? “Go home, you’re drunk.”
“I’d think the same if I was sober.”
She jogged her duffel bag on her shoulder and glared at him. She was so out of here.
