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She rolled her eyes. This was the last person she had hoped to run into. She faced the newcomer. Brett Falco was often at the Hen House. He was a drunk and always shouted lewd remarks at her while she was up on the stage. She had been happy when they had started their set tonight and she hadn’t seen him.
“Why are you so close to me? Hasn’t your momma taught you manners?” she snapped.
“She sure hasn’t. Why don’t you come and teach me something.” He chuckled.
The smell of whiskey greeted her. Brett and his family owned the local hardware shop in the middle of town. He assumed he was God’s gift to women and had been trying to get Cashea to go out with him for months now. Women did swoon over him with his short blond hair, brown eyes, and tall physique. Unfortunately for Brett, he just didn’t do anything for Cashea.
“Boy, bye.” She grimaced and made to walk away. It was almost time for her to sing. She’d meetthe girls in the back for a moment before they had to go on stage.
“Hey, don’t leave yet.” Brett grabbed her by her arm and turned her to face him.
“Get your hands off me.” Cashea tried to pull free from him, but he held on tight.
“You don’t have to rush off so fast.” He smirked.
He tried to bring her closer to him, but she resisted. His lips were curled up in a crooked grin which she was sure most women would fall for, but not her.
“I have to go, Brett. Release my arm.” Her free hand gripped her water bottle tight. She wasn’t afraid to use it as a weapon. She’d taken self-defense classes in the past. She’d had issues with an old stalker boyfriend when she had moved to Minneapolis some years ago. That time of her life seemed like a lifetime ago. Her ex hadn’t taken the breakup too well and had stalked her. She’d enrolled in the local self-defense classes. Thankfully, she had never had to use the skills she’d learned. He had finally got the point and dated a woman who lived in his apartment building. Eyeing Brett, she knew she may be rusty, but she could defend herself.
“When are you going to go out with me?” he asked, ignoring her request for him to let her go.
“When are you going to let me go?” she countered.
She tugged on her arm again, but his grip only tightened. His smile disappeared. This time he yanked on her, and she lost her balance. She fell into him with her water bottle falling somewhere on the floor. The smell of cigarette and booze was stronger. She reared back and tried to not inhale.
“So, what? You think you’re too good to go out with me?” he snarled into her ear.
She pushed away from him, but he didn’t let her go far. His chest was solid and his hold on her unwavering.
“Brett, get your hands off her,” Danny said. He rested his hands on the counter and glared at Brett.
“Mind your business, old man,” Brett snapped. He stared at Cashea with a devilish grin. “We are just having a conversation, aren’t we?”
“Which has been over.” Cashea was two seconds from kneeing him in the balls. She was going to count to two, and if he didn’t release her, he’d been singing a new tune. “Now let me go.”
“You must be hard of hearing,” a deep drawl came from behind Cashea.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Draven holding his glass. He was staring down at it, but it was obvious he was speaking to Brett. A shiver went down her spine at the calmness that resonated in his voice. It didn’t match the tension in his body.
“I don’t think the lady wants your hands on her.”
“Fuck off, Harvey.” Brett scowled.
Draven knocked back the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the counter. He swiveled in the chair; those ice-blue eyes of his had a different glint in them now. She couldn’t read what it was, but it sure made her heart skip a beat. His intense gaze landed on Brett.
She had a funny feeling it didn’t mean anything good for Brett.
“What did you say?” Draven’s voice dropped even lower.
Now they were drawing a small crowd. Everyone who had been standing around the bar was watching them.
“Maybe it’s you who is hard of hearing.” Brett finally released her.
Cashea took a step back away from him. Her wrist was throbbing from how tight his grip had been. She brought it up to her chest and massaged itwith her free hand to help smooth it. Draven’s eyes narrowed in on her actions. His jawline hardened. She immediately stopped what she was doing and moved toward him.
“It’s okay. I’m fine,” she said. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t seem to calm him any. This situation was about to go south fast. She needed to put a stop to it now.
“You need to apologize.” It wasn’t a request from Draven but a statement.
