“Thanks for dinner,” she said as they waited in line.
“My pleasure. I think we broke new ground tonight by talking this out.”
What the hell? How had their discussion encouraged him? “Since I work tomorrow I’ll have to leave after the first set.”
Dillon paid the cover charge and they squeezed together at a tiny table in the back. “You want another drink?”
“I’m good. But go ahead if you want one.”
“Okay. Be right back.”
Not likely. They’d only staffed the bar with two bartenders. And this crowd liked to drink. She’d made three hundred bucks last time she’d worked this gig.
By the time Dillon returned, the band had started, making it hard to hold a conversation. That didn’t deter Dillon. He kept trying to talk to her and she kept saying, “What?”
He did give up beyond commenting on a song or to point out a dancing couple. After he drained his drink, he took her hand. “Let’s dance.”
Luckily the first two songs were fast. Then the band announced the next song would end the first set.
Dillon pulled her closer and she winced when he tromped on her foot. “Sorry.”
Rory caught herself trying to dance faster, like she could get this over with sooner.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” Dillon said.
“Because of the job openings?”
“No. I miss you.”
“Why? We weren’t together that long and I’m not that cool.”
Dillon laughed. “I forgot that you’re so funny. Would it be so bad, giving me another shot?”
“Stop talking, Dillon. This isn’t going to happen.”
“Let me convince you another way.” He clamped his hands over her ears and mashed their faces together, laying a kiss on her.
No. Dammit, no! She didn’t want this. She tried to twist her mouth free from his, but he held fast, his tongue pushing between her lips.
Then he was ripped away from her and Dalton was in Dillon’s face. “What the f**k do you think you’re doin’ with her?”
Dillon blinked with confusion then demanded, “What does it matter to you?”
Rory tried to step between them, but Dalton was immoveable.
“Answer the question.”
“What is your problem, buddy?”
“My problem is you, f**kface.”
“Back off.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll make you back off,” Dillon snapped.
Dalton loomed even more. “Gonna hafta grow a bit before that happens.”
People were starting to take notice. Rory said, “Stop it. Both of you.”
“Rory, who is this redneck ass**le?” Dillon demanded.
“He’s my…” Boyfriend seemed too tepid a term. Lover was too intimate.
“Why you havin’ trouble explaining who I am to you?” Dalton said without looking away from his opponent.
“Dalton, this is Dillon. My ex-fiancé.”
Then Dalton did turn and look at her. “Are you f**kin’ serious? What the hell is Dildo doin’ here? Dancing with you? Goddamn kissing you.”
“I wasn’t kissing him back,” she said quickly.
“Jesus, I know that. It’s why I’m so pissed off.”
“Dalton—”
“I take it you’re the new boyfriend,” Dillon said.
“I am one helluva lot more to her than some simple goddamned boyfriend.”
“If that’s true, then isn’t it funny she never once mentioned your name during our dinner?”
Dalton made a low, snarling noise.
“A dinner in which she and I talked about getting back together?” Dillon taunted. “You must not mean as much to her as you think you do, redneck.”
Dalton didn’t punch Dillon; he jumped him, knocking him to the floor.
Then he punched him.
Dillon rolled away and slammed his fist into the side of Dalton’s head. He tried to hit Dalton in the throat, but Dalton blocked it and delivered an uppercut. Dillon looked dazed for an instant before he leveled a punch to Dalton’s gut.
Unfazed, Dalton lunged for Dillon again and they both crashed to the floor. Dillon dodging Dalton’s fists, bucking his hips to throw Dalton backward. Then Dillon was on top, whaling on Dalton.
Rory watched the fight, a dull roar whooshing in her head. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the rapid thump of her heart.
She couldn’t move.
Both men on the ground were bleeding.
A crowd gathered, but no one stepped in to stop them.
Then they were on their feet again. Swinging at each other. Dalton picked Dillon up by his shirtfront and threw him. Dillon crashed into a table and hit the floor.
Now that the men were separated, the bouncers stepped in.
Shit, not just the bouncers. Dalton’s cousin Cam McKay had one hand fisted in Dalton’s shirt. Cam wasn’t in his deputy’s uniform but he might as well have been, the way the crowd scattered.
Rory glanced over at Dillon and saw the bouncers had helped him to his feet. A cocktail waitress handed him a wad of napkins to mop up the blood on his face.
Dillon was listening to the bouncers, not paying attention to her.
When she returned her focus to Dalton, he continued to glare at Dillon while Cam dressed him down. A spike of fear went through her when Cam beckoned her over.
“Yes, deputy?”
Cam scowled. “I’m not on duty. I’m here on a rare night out with my wife, so dealing with this hothead wasn’t part of my plan. Goddammit, Dalton, when are you gonna learn fighting ain’t the answer?”
“Already learned it. I don’t do this anymore.”
“Then what was this tonight?”
“A warning. That f**ker doesn’t get to put his hands on her, or his mouth on her. Ever.”
Dalton still didn’t look at her.
“If I let go of you, you’ll go after him again?” Cam asked.
“Most likely.”
“Fuck that. I’m taking you outside to cool you off.”
Dalton shook his head. “I’m not leavin’ Rory in here with him.”
“Dalton. I can take care of myself. It was all a misunderstanding—”
Then he was in her face. “Don’t defend him. I don’t give a shit what he was to you once; he’s not that to you anymore. He has no rights to you. All those rights belong to me now.”
“Omigod. Like I’m a piece of f**king property?”