Forcing her mind back to her job, she filled more orders. A commotion at the door caught her attention, and she frowned as she spotted a foursome she’d hoped would never dirty the place again. Especially since Jack had thrown them out last time the ringleader of the sorry band of bikers had tried to push her into joining him out back for a little “fun.”
Looking around for her coworker, she saw Julie was busy on the other side of the room. Damn. With a sigh, she resigned herself to several hours of putting up with the jerk. Too bad his good looks were wasted on his shitty personality. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was a jackass shifter.
“Hey, Grant,” she said, striving not to sound as if she’d like to let her coyote rip his face off. “What are you guys drinking tonight?”
Leaning back in his chair, the biker crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a cocky grin. “Can’t I just have you, honey? You’d taste better on my tongue than any beer.”
“Beer it is,” she said brightly, ignoring his pass. “What about you all?”
After she filled their orders, the men settled down for a while. She was able to watch Micah, hopefully without him realizing it, and take care of her other customers, too. Unfortunately, as the first hour passed after their arrival, Grant and his buddies became drunk. And when Grant got wasted, he got sort of belligerent. He and his group weren’t fun and harmless like Clyde and his friends.
“Come on, baby,” Grant crooned, grabbing her wrist when she was making another trip to the bar. “Sit on Papa’s lap and tell him all your troubles.”
Jesus. “Let go, asshole.” She was getting tired, and her charm was wearing off. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Jack scowling toward them, but she knew her boss was eyeing Grant and not angry with her.
Wresting free of Grant, she continued on her way.
Jacee hefted another tray of drinks on her shoulder and headed back across the room for a table on the other side of Grant’s. As she walked past him, her foot caught on something, and she had a split second to register that Grant had stuck his boot out in her path. She’d been moving at a fast clip, and there was no catching herself.
With a cry, she went down hard, the crash of glasses and bottles loud in her ears. Shards went everywhere, and liquid splattered over the floor, her shirt, face, and arms. For a second she remained there, stunned. The cheerful noise in the room died, and then Jack started toward them. She was pushing herself up to give Grant a piece of her mind when an ominous growl reached her ears.
As someone helped her stand, she saw Micah crossing the room, long legs eating up the distance with quick strides. The expression on his face was murderous, and right then she was glad she wasn’t Grant.
Micah reached the biker before Jack could, and grabbed the laughing man by his leather vest, spinning him around. The amusement died on his face immediately.
“Hey, what the fuck? I was just havin’ some fun—”
Which was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Micah gripped the front of Grant’s shirt and unloaded his fist in the jerk’s face. The biker’s head snapped back, and Micah let him fall to the floor, gazing down on him with disgust. Grant was out cold.
Then her rescuer studied the faces of Grant’s friends. “Anybody else feel like harassing Jacee or any of the ladies who work so hard to serve your sorry, drunk asses?”
A general round of denials ensued, in which the trio assured Micah and Jack, who’d arrived to survey the mess, that they had no idea Grant would go so far to screw with her just because she wouldn’t “put out.” Charming.
Jacee was only half listening to the douche bags, because her arm was throbbing, and she was wet, pissed, and embarrassed. But she was also intrigued by this man who’d jumped to her defense and was even angrier than Jacee. Standing straight and tall, glaring at Grant’s buddies and the room in general, he looked every inch the dangerous predator she knew him to be.
He was magnificent.
Before she could thank him, he bent and hauled Grant to his feet. The biker was groggy, blinking at Jacee almost in surprise, like he couldn’t quite grasp what had happened.
“Apologize to Jacee,” Micah growled, “before I break your stupid neck.”
“I—I’m sorry.” Grant seemed to realize they had everyone’s undivided attention, and his face reddened. “It was a joke that got out of hand. Again, I’m sorry, Jacee.”
Lips pressed together, she nodded. That was the best she’d give him, and he seemed relieved, anyway. Micah grabbed him by the back of his vest and frog-marched him toward the door. Jacee followed to see what he’d do. When he reached the porch, he literally picked Grant up, holding the vest and the seat of his jeans, and threw him out onto the gravel driveway.
Grant landed with a thud and a curse, but quickly scrambled up and limped away, his friends following.
“Don’t come back,” Micah warned them. “You do, and next time I’ll fuck you up.”
Jacee’s wicked little heart fluttered and melted a bit more.
Micah turned to her boss. “Jack, it’s time for you to seriously consider hiring a bouncer. This shit is happening way too often. The rough customers are going to drive off the good ones, and one of your girls is going to wind up hurt.” His eyes slid to Jacee as he said that, studying her in concern.
Jack laughed, the sound unhappy. “Yeah, I know. I don’t suppose you’d want the job?”
“I’ve got one already,” he said. “But thanks.”
“Well, if you ever reconsider, even for part-time, let me know.”