It definitely didn’t have anything to do with all the flashing warning lights about my engine on the dash.
I needed to grab a few supplies and then hurry back home to work on the catering order for tomorrow night. Fairhope was a small town, and it was exactly the kind of small town that threw adorable little events almost every weekend. We had the slippery pig chase, the butt-balloon-buster, the town wide hide and seek, and dozens of other yearly events to look forward to. Tomorrow night was what we called the Night of Lights, where all the kids let paper lanterns loose at the bottom of the river and tried to race up to the bridge on Mainstreet in time to see which one came through first.
And I was going to get the perfect opportunity to show off what I’d learned on my brief culinary tour in France by catering it all. In our little world, the fact that I’d gone out of the country to study the culinary arts was just about the most exciting thing that had happened in recent memory. I’d been back over two months and I still got asked about it almost every day.
I popped into McDermit’s and froze at the door, eyes going wide.
There was a man in line who towered over everybody. He was stacked with muscle, but I couldn’t quite see his face. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and I found my eyes locked on the shape of his broad, delicious shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs. He looked like he could’ve picked up the entire beverage fridge and tossed it through a window without breaking a sweat. Or picked me up and dragged me kicking and squealing back to whatever sexy cave he came from…
Be cool, Harper. Don’t stare like a freak. I smoothed my forehead and plastered a comically casual expression on my face. Don’t mind me, folks. Just strolling through the store with no particular purpose.
As discreetly as I could, I started browsing in a direction that would let me get a better look at him. Fairhope was a small enough town that a man like this didn’t just escape notice. So who was he?
I heard a little lisping voice cry out, “He’s not my daddy!”
My heart stopped for a beat. There were only a few other people in the store, but every one of them could’ve got the senior discount at Teddy’s theater without showing I.D.
The man turned around and tried to say something to defend himself, but I barely heard. This was exactly the kind of situation I’d taken self-defense classes for. It was the kind of thing I ran mental exercises for in the shower. What would I do if someone tried to kidnap a kid in front of me?
I took a few quick breaths, trying to calm my nerves as I got a tighter grip on my purse. Thankfully, I was planning to cash some coins in at the bank later, so my purse was feeling particularly beefy. The man was much, much bigger than me, but I’d have the element of surprise.
My heart hammered against my chest. I could feel hot blood pumping through me like lava, preparing my mostly untrained body for the moment of attack.
I crept closer, inching around an aisle and using a display of potato chips as cover to get within a few steps of him. Then I saw him reach for a little boy who clapped his hands to his face and screamed.
They need my help. The thought came with a clenching of every single muscle I was able to clench. Every. Muscle.
I took a few more quick breaths, then rushed forward and swung my purse overhand at the man. He turned just in time to catch it square in the cheek instead of the back of his head.
I saw it all in slow motion. The graceful arc of my attack zipping through the dusty air in the shop. The shockwave of his skin where the edge of my purse met his cheek. The furious surprise in his dreamboat eyes…
Time returned to normal, and all the sights and sounds came along with it.
Suddenly I was standing there with a purse in my hand that I’d just used to smack a stranger in the face. The stranger was tall. So tall. He was gorgeous, angry, and glaring right down at me.
He staggered backwards and both the kids stopped yelling. The little girl squeezed his leg. “Sorry, daddy!” she said over and over.
“Dad, I didn’t–” the little boy said.
Dad? “You said he wasn’t…” I muttered.
“What the hell is going on?” McDermit asked. He’d come out from behind the desk and the three old ladies were all cowering behind him like they were expecting a bomb to go off.
The man’s face was covered by his big hand. He tilted his head back and let out an irritated growl. When he lowered his hand, I saw an already-forming red welt just below his eye. “That was their idea of a joke,” he said. He had a deep voice that rumbled through my chest.