Older, probably in his sixties, with thinning grey hair and a goatee of the same color.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked angrily.
Before he could respond with some bullshit excuse, Bones was there, his big hand wrapped around the man’s wrist, pulling it away from me. “You better learn to keep your hands to yourself,” Bones spat at the man, his voice practically a growl, “or I’ll break them.”
The man gulped and winced in pain. Bones’ grip was hard enough to leave bruises, I was sure. “Okay, man. Just let go of me,” the man said, looking up at Bones towering over his seated position.
“Apologize,” Bones demanded.
“I’m sorry.”
Bones rolled his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, “To. Her.”
The man’s eyes met mine. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere.
I nodded in acknowledgment.
Bones released the man, who held his wrist with his other hand, then got off the chair and hurried away.
I looked at Bones, trying to sort through my emotions about what had happened. I didn’t like to think of myself as some kind of damsel in distress, but my heart fluttered when he came to my rescue. “Why did you do that?” I asked.
“I couldn’t seem to help myself,” he admitted, his eyes burning into mine. “I didn’t like him touching you.”
“Yeah, me either.”
Bones took the last drink off my tray, sipping his Coke.
I turned to walk away.
Then he spoke again, “Go out on a ride with me later.”
“What?” I asked.
He looked almost as surprised that he’d asked as I felt. I had thought our kiss and shared breakfast was a one-time thing.
“After you get off work,” he said, going for it. “I’ll get one of the other guys to take over for me here, and we’ll go for a ride.”
I still felt swept up in my attraction to him. The way he’d swooped in and threatened that groper replayed in my mind. To hell with it.
“Okay,” I said, going with what felt right at the moment. “I’ll go.”