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“Bullshit,” one of Willard’s cronies spat, and the others nodded viciously in agreement as Willard stood there, red-faced and glaring.
“Think what you like, but it’s the truth,” Luther continued. “We’re not here to hurt Angel Fire. But you’re putting a pretty big damper on the festivities today, so why don’t you take your sanctimonious fear-mongering somewhere else, okay?”
Before she could stop it, an obnoxious grin spread across her lips, and Espie risked a glimpse up at him—just as he glanced down at her. A bolt of lightning seared through her body when their gazes met, and she hastily looked away with a gentle clearing of her throat.
“I have a right to free speech—”
“And we have a right to enjoy our afternoon and celebrate the local artists who came out without being forced to hear it,” Luther pressed, his words taking a harder edge this time as he moved closer to Espie.
She knew it was a tactic to close in on Willard, but Espie couldn’t ignore the heat surging between them, Luther’s scent overwhelming her senses. Tonight, as she retired for bed, she’d peel today’s clothes off and smell him there—his masculine cologne, which he’d never worn before, paired with that scent of home and comfort and protection.
Willard balked. “You have a right to know the truth!”
“And this young lady,” Luther said, eyes narrowing as he gestured to Maida, “has every right to do her job without being harassed by some asshole and his posse. Have a little respect for your fellow human beings, man. You’re ruining all the hard work people have done to make today’s festival a success. Plus, there are kids here. They don’t need to hear your message if it’s dripping with hatred.”
“Oh, and are you going to stop me?” Willard sneered, then hastily took a step back when Luther moved in on him.
“I don’t want to, but I will if I have to.”
The depth of his voice sent a shiver down Espie’s spine, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught Maida smirking; her best friend knew exactly what was going on inside her head in that moment.
The tension lingered for a few seconds longer, as if the crowd—and Espie—were waiting to see if the two men would come to blows. However, that all came to an end as soon as someone started clapping. Another gave a whoop, and soon the cluster of people watching Willard Vesper rant and rave were clapping and cheering Luther on. He stepped back with a bashful smile, hands sliding into his pockets as his head dipped down slightly.
“I don’t think they need to applaud,” he muttered to Espie, who soon came to realize that she had been staring at his gorgeous face, and she quickly snapped herself back to reality.
“Why shouldn’t they?” she asked as the crowd finally dispersed, a few stragglers even grabbing some coffee samples right in front of Willard while shooting him filthy looks as they left. No one had a problem with anyone who wanted to protect the environment, but attacking Maida and coming across as crass as he did had sealed Willard’s fate. The crowds were not impressed with Willard’s showmanship and threats.
“Well,” Luther said, scratching nonchalantly at the back of his neck. His eyes appeared to be fixed slightly above Espie’s, as though he was purposefully looking at her forehead. “I mean, I didn’t do anything worth the applause. Anyone could have said what I did. It was the right thing to do.”
“But no one else did,” Espie pointed out softly. “You stepped up. It was…awesome.”
His eyebrows twitched up slightly. “Yeah?”
“Definitely.” She tried not to nod too emphatically, but with Willard slinking away with his tail between his legs, Luther hovering close enough that she could feel his body heat, and Maida receiving a few kind words from the people who thought she had been quite brave to remain silent while a man had belittled her that way, this was a pretty good moment.
“I was just following your lead,” Luther insisted. He finally turned away, as if scanning the nearby art displays across from A Cup Of Beans’ table. “You’re the real hero here.”
“She’s my best friend.”
Espie glanced over her shoulder and caught Maida’s eye, and both women winked at one another. She then looked back to Luther with a sigh, startled, but hiding it well when she found him studying her intently. “I mean, if you hadn’t stepped in, I might have punched him in the face. No one comes after my friends without having to deal with me.”
“Kind of like the other night?”
Her cheeks prickled as he smiled. “Wh-What?”
What a stunning smile! That smile could stop traffic—and definitely cause accidents. Dentists would gouge each other with their stupid little dental tools just to use that smile on their advertisements. Perfect. Warm. Inviting. She yearned to lift up on her toes, kiss that face, and keep that smile all for herself. Her lips desperately wanted a tutorial.
“The other night,” he repeated, head cocked to the side—like a puppy hearing something strange for the first time. (She wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair.) “At the park? When my friends nearly hit your group with the football? Again, I’m so sorry about that. They get a bit carried away.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. “Yeah. Just like that. I would have made you guys pay if that ball had actually made contact, so it was a good thing you were there to catch it.”
“I kind of regret it now, actually,” he told her, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, not seeing you or anything—” her blush darkened, cheeks in pain, “—but not getting the opportunity to see you tell my friends off. I think it’d be a sight to behold.”
“It would,” Maria insisted, sidling in from out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Espie’s waist. “Espie is famous in Angel Fire for putting people in their rightful places. You can never be too careful.”
The black bear shifter grinned up at Luther as she pinched Espie’s side, the universal signal that they needed to talk—now.
“Espie? That’s a beautiful name. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced yet.” He extended his hand to her. “Luther.”
