The wave of light and noise from the bar was almost enough to send me scuttling back to the patio. I needed to find Rome, though. And maybe some ice for my eye. Not only that, I’d promised the kids outside that I’d help them. Steph had been right—they’d been stupid to come here—but it wasn’t like they’d been fighting. I didn’t think they deserved to get in trouble.
Once I accomplished that, though, I’d ask Rome to take me home because hooking up was no longer an option. Sure, he was attractive and I’d had a great time for a while. That didn’t change the fact that tomorrow night I’d be going to my class reunion looking like a boxer who’d gotten his ass kicked.
Not only that, I was starting to develop one hell of a headache.
All because I’d been stupid enough to come to the Starkwood Saloon with a man I hardly knew.
In my defense, he was a man I hardly knew who was extremely sexy. A man I’d had a crush on for a very long time. And it wasn’t like he’d personally caused the fight… But it’d been his idea to come here, and while I could respect the fact that he helped patch a guy up, I’d reached my limit.
Rome would just have to go down in history as the one who got away twice.
This was probably for the best, because ultimately, our worlds didn’t align. I liked to go on dates to places where there was good dancing, but a very low likelihood of flying attack cowboys. He liked to go on dates with good dancing, too, but the cowboys weren’t a deal breaker for him. I reached up and touched my throbbing face, wondering what my family would say when they saw it.
Fuck. Knowing Lexi, she’d decide to hunt him down and slash his tires for bringing me here. Given that she’d already been busted for shoplifting, that probably wouldn’t end very well.
We needed less drama in the Whittaker family, not more. I hated to admit it, but this disaster of a date might’ve been a good thing. I liked Rome—liked him a lot—and if I ended up back in Hallies Falls, it’d be way too easy to get addicted to those kisses of his. Now I had a great big shiner to remind me why those kisses were dangerous.
Things had settled back down in the bar. The ambulance had arrived with the cops, and I could see the EMTs rolling Rome’s patient onto a backboard. Both of the cowboys who’d come over the fence were facedown on the ground, arms cuffed behind them. Peaches was busy cleaning up the mess, and quite a few of the remaining patrons were helping her set the chairs and tables to rights.
Astoundingly, the band was back up on the stage, and while they hadn’t started playing yet, they clearly weren’t packing up their instruments, either.
Crazypants.
I couldn’t see Rome anywhere, so I headed for the bathroom to assess the damage. I’d made it about halfway when Peaches looked up and saw me. Her eyes went wide. Then she dropped her broom and charged over to me.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded, catching my shoulders hard enough to hurt. I flinched, and she loosened her grip, but she didn’t let me go.
“Flying cowboy,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. “Oh, and a beer bottle attacked me from the ground.”
Peaches raised a brow, then let go of one shoulder to raise a finger in front of my face.
“Follow this with your eyes,” she said, waving it back and forth.
“Why?” I asked, obediently following the finger.
“Checking for head injuries,” she said. “Either you hallucinated a flying cowboy or you actually got hit by one. Neither scenario is comforting.”
I frowned. “No, I think my head is fine. Whacked the hell out of my face, but I’ve had a concussion before, and this doesn’t feel like that.”
Peaches nodded, apparently satisfied. “Let’s get some ice for that eye. C’mon.”
I followed her to the bar like an obedient puppy, because ice sounded really nice. The initial, throbbing pain had died down a little, but the swelling was getting worse, bringing a whole new kind of discomfort.
Making up an ice pack didn’t take Peaches long. I settled in with it on a bar stool, watching the cops haul out the guys who’d climbed over the fence. Suddenly I remembered the young couple outside.
“Hey,” I said to Peaches. “You have some underage kids hiding on the patio. They’re scared shitless that the cops will catch them.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Like we need more crap going wrong tonight. I keep telling Gus that we have to get serious about fake IDs, but he’s owned the place for thirty years and doesn’t think it’s a big deal. We’re gonna lose our fucking liquor license if we aren’t careful.”
“So what should they do?” I asked. “I told them to wait out there. Said I’d let them know when it was safe.”
“I’ll take care of them,” Peaches said, sighing. “For the record, it really sucks that the tips are so good here. I’d love to find a different job, but I don’t think I could take the pay hit.”
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I felt a warm, solid body press against mine. Rome was back. I wanted to lean into his strength more than anything. My brain might’ve decided he was a mistake, but my body wasn’t quite there yet.
“What happened to—” he started to ask, but the words cut off abruptly as I twisted my face to look up at him. His eyes went hard. Then he very gently caught my chin in his hand, studying my eye. “Who did this?”
I couldn’t help but flick a glance toward the cowboys on the floor.
“I’ll fucking kill them,” he snarled, starting toward them.
“No!”
I lunged for his shirt, catching the white fabric just in time for him to pull me off the stool. My head crashed into his thigh, sending new waves of pain radiating through my bruised face.
“Shit.” Rome lunged for me, catching me before I hit the ground. Settling me back on my feet, he wrapped his arms around my shaking body, holding me steady. Despite all my pain, the exhaustion, and the remnants of my Coors Light buzz, his arms still felt wonderful. I wanted to stay like this all night. Make him cuddle me and my ice pack while I had a good cry.
What the hell is wrong with you? Snap out of it!
I knew I should pull away, but up close his pheromones were like some potent drug I couldn’t resist. Then the crackle of the police radio broke through my thoughts, and I remembered why cuddling was such a bad idea.
“I want to go home,” I said into his chest, and in my mind the words sounded very firm and final. In reality they were more of a soft whimper.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Rome said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. “We were just supposed to have a good time. I thought you were safe behind the bar. You seemed fine when you handed me the first aid kit.”
“I was fine,” I told him. “But then I started feeling sort of overwhelmed, so I went outside for some air. That’s when cowboys started flying over the fence. One landed on me and smushed my face into a beer bottle.”
The hand rubbing my back paused, and then he was catching me by the shoulder, studying me the same way Peaches had.
“How hard did you hit your head?” he asked, frowning.
“Not hard,” I replied, and tried to roll my eyes. That didn’t go so well. I took a second to recover from the fresh wave of pain, wondering how long black eyes lasted. My right eyelid was completely shut now. At least it’d happened after my job interview. “They decided they weren’t done fighting, so they climbed the fence to get back in. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t have left me. Next time—”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” I said, cutting him off. Rome frowned.
“Randi, it sucks that this happened, but you and me—”
“No,” I said, catching and holding his gaze, willing him to listen. “There’s no you and me, Rome. I’m not in the mood for a hookup any more. My face feels too much like raw meat. And it wasn’t like we were going to start a relationship or something. I’m headed back to Missoula on Sunday. We don’t have anything in common, anyway.”
I stopped talking, putting the ice back on my eye. Rome’s jaw tightened, and I realized that I’d essentially just told him he was only good for sex. Sex and bacon burgers. Shit. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch—it’d just come out that way. Maybe that was for the best, though. I didn’t seem to have any self-control when it came to this man.
“Okay.”
He said it a little too easily, which kind of hurt. I don’t know why. A token protest would’ve been nice. Of course, after that little speech, Rome probably couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Fair enough.
“I need to find my colors and then we’ll head back to Hallies Falls,” he said. “But I’m not taking you home.”
“Why not?” I asked, confused.
“Because you need to get cleaned up. If your sister sees you like this, she’s gonna key my bike or something. We’ll stop by my place and you can take a shower. I’ll throw your clothes in the laundry.”
“That’ll take hours,” I protested. “I’m fine to go home.”
“Go look at yourself in the bathroom mirror,” Rome said, cocking his head. “If you still think going home is a good idea, then I’ll take you home.”