Hugh didn’t smile, and he didn’t shake Ted’s hand. Instead he stood and stared down at the smaller man. “I’m only going to say this once to you,” he said in a calm voice. “Get the hell out of here or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Ted’s smile and hand fell at the same time. “What?”
“If you ever come near Mae again, I’ll beat you to a bloody stump.”
“Hugh!” Mae gasped.
“Then when your wife comes to the hospital to identify your body,” he continued, “I’ll tell her why I had to kick your ass.”
“Ted!” Mae flew to her feet and shoved her way between the two men. “He’s lying. He won’t hurt you.”
Ted looked from Hugh to Mae, then without a word, turned on his heel and practically ran down the street. Mae swung around and threw Hugh’s jacket on the table. Balling up her fist, she punched him in the chest. “You big butthead!” People sitting at other tables outside the bar turned to look at her, but she didn’t care.
“Ouch.” He raised his hand and rubbed the front of his shirt. “For such a little thing, you hit pretty hard.”
“What in the hell is your problem? That was my date,” Mae seethed.
“Yeah, and you should thank me. What a weasel.”
She knew he was a little bit of a weasel, but he was a nice-looking weasel. It had taken her three months to find him, and she hadn’t tried him out yet. She grabbed her purse off the table and looked down the street. Maybe if she hurried, she could catch up with him. She turned to leave and felt strong fingers wrap around her arm.
“Let him go.”
“No.” Mae tried to jerk her arm free but couldn’t. “Damn it,” she cursed as she caught one last glimpse of Ted’s retreating back. “He probably won’t ever call me again.”
“Probably not.”
She frowned into Hugh’s smiling face. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t like him.”
“What?” Mae laughed without humor. “Who cares whether you liked him or not? I don’t need your approval.”
“He isn’t the man for you.”
“How do you know?”
He smiled at her. “Because I think I’m the man for you.”
This time her laughter was laced with amusement. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m serious.”
She didn’t believe him. “You’re exactly the type of guy I never date.”
“What type is that?”
She looked pointedly at his hand still gripping her arm. “Macho, muscle-head, egomaniac. Men who think they can push around people who are smaller and weaker than them.”
He let go of her arm and retrieved his jacket from the table. “I’m not an egomaniac, and I don’t push people around.”
“Really? What about Ted?”
“Ted doesn’t count.” He wrapped the jacket around her shoulders again. “I could tell he had that small-man syndrome. He probably beats his wife.”
Mae frowned at his outrageous assumption. “What about me?”
“What about you?”