Chapter 19

Damien

She hasn’t said a word to me since emerging from the bedroom this morning. Not even to say good morning. She’s the one giving me the cold shoulder, and I don’t like it.

When she climbed into the truck before I was even ready to walk out the door, I knew I crossed the line and did something to upset her.

Last night, something came close to happening. Too close. Something I should have been more conscientious about but was too caught up in the comfort surrounding her.

Our walk was refreshing. Dinner amazing. The movie completely hilarious and right up my alley. But it was what happened after all of that, that had me putting my walls back up with her.

Maybe I was a little too hard on her last night. I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest when I suggested she go to bed. I sounded like a jackass and treated her like a child. While inexcusable, I couldn’t help it. I panicked.

I saw it in her eyes.

Hope.

Hope that we could be something more than what we are right now. Hope that our sham marriage could turn into the real thing. Hope that one day, I would feel the way she feels about me.

Hope is dangerous and disastrous. Hope is the reason I had to make myself clear to her.

We will never be more than friends.

Ever.

End of story.

She deserves better than me.

I wanted to remind her of this during our drive into town, but the words refuse to form on my tongue. Instead, we drive all the way to town in absolute silence.

“I’m going to have a drink,” she finally murmurs when I put the truck into park.

“Okay.” I nod dumbly. I want to stop her and fix this before she goes, but I’m not exactly sure what there is to fix. She’s keeping her distance. Isn’t that what I wanted? “Meet me back here at five. I’ll get everything we need.”

She slides out of the truck without acknowledging me, again, and saunters off in the direction of what I assume is the local watering hole. I watch her disappear into the building, all the while cursing myself for pushing so hard last night.

*****

It’s six o’clock.

She’s late.

I told her five, and when I was running late, I half expected to see her already waiting for me and ready to go.

She wasn’t.

I run my fingers through my hair and groan loudly when I look at the door of the building I watched her walk into earlier. Is she still there?

I place the last of the groceries into the bed of the truck and kick at the snow.

There’s only one way to find out.

I cross the street, hoping to find her in better spirits than when we parted ways. and push open the door. The bar is exactly like I pictured something this remote would be. Makeshift, honky-tonk, and barren. The low lighting makes it feel dark and smoky, and Def Leppard blares loudly from the outdated speakers mounted to the walls.

Whatever customers there are have congregated around the bar while a woman stands on top it, scantily clad, swinging her hips in sync to the music.

I glance around the room for Penny, worried something is wrong. When I don’t see her, panic begins to fill my chest, but a flash of blond catches my eye, and I look at the woman dancing on top of the bar. I step closer, studying her. My heart skips a beat when I finally recognize her. The woman, now teasingly removing one strap of her lace bra, is Penny.

My Penny.

Son of a bitch.

My feet move before I tell them to, taking me in the direction of the bar, and I groan when my wife turns to shake her ass in everyone’s faces. The men whoop with joy, egging her on for more. Praying I make it to her before she reveals herself to the men around her, I curse loudly and push my way through to her.

“What are you doing?” I ask the moment my hands touch her, grasping at her jean-covered legs. I manage to pull her down and shield her from prying eyes. She giggles, and when her drunken gaze meets mine, I curse again because she’s fucking plastered. I take a deep breath.

“Damien,” she singsongs, turns, and throws her arms around my neck. “Where have you been?”

One of the men in the crowd steps forward and grabs her arm, pulling her toward him. My arm wraps around her waist, keeping her next to me, while the other pushes him away.

“Hey, man,” the hairiest man in the room balks, eyeing me like there’s a foul stench in the room. He’s had a few too many as well, but it’s the stench of the alcohol and a body in dire need of a shower that he smells. And he’s the source. “Saw her first. Get your own.”

It takes everything in me to keep my wits as the urge to smash the guy’s nose in shoots right threw me. Fuck the stench. I’ll pummel his ass. She is not some piece of property he can claim.

Mine!

“Fuck off,” I growl and shoot him a glare. She falls against me, too drunk to support her own weight. How much did she drink?

“Was only having a little fun.” She smiles up at me, slurring her words. I wrap my arm tighter around her, and the men around us start hollering and complaining. The barkeep pulls the plug on the music, and the room falls silent.

“Hey, man, let the girly dance.” Stinky Sasquatch reaches for her again. “Told you, I saw her first.”

“Unless you want to pick your fucking teeth off the floor, I suggest you close that sorry excuse of a mouth and back the fuck up,” I fume, feeling my irritation turn into anger. I have a few inches on him, but he’s bulkier. Of course, his bulk isn’t muscle like mine, but I don’t want to fight him. Penny groans, and when her head flops against my chest, I look down at her. “Sweetheart, we need to put your shirt and jacket on. It’s freezing outside.”

“Fuck you, Rambo,” Stinky Sasquatch declares and takes a step closer, reaching for her jacket. He doesn’t like that I’ve told her to put her clothes on. Fuck, I don’t need this shit right now, not after the day I’ve had. But Stinky Sasquatch isn’t going to let up. “You want her, you wait for your fucking turn like everyone else here.”

I freeze. The meaning behind his words is the last fucking straw. I turn on him, pushing Penny behing me. I don’t want this shitwad anywhere near her. I stare at him, wishing she weren’t this wasted so I could take him out back and give him the thrashing he deserves. But she’s drunk, and I have to be careful in case the others decide to step in and help him. Stinky Sasquatch flinches, cowering a little under my glare.

“She’s not a whore, you inbred hillbilly motherfucker.” Stinky’s face pales before turning bright red and angry. He’s out of line, and he’s going to know it when I’m done. “She’s my wife.”

He takes a step back, and his anger gets replaced with fear. That’s right, cocksucker, be afraid of me.

“Yo, man, didn’t know she was married.” He lifts his hands defensively. “No harm, no foul.”

But he’s wrong. There is harm. There is foul. If he thinks it’s okay to treat a woman this way, he’s got a big fucking problem.

Me.

I look down at the woman pressed to my side. She’s barely hanging on, but her blue eyes are large and watching the exchange between him and me with shock. I see a flicker of longing, and for a moment, I let it simmer. After everything we’ve been through, I’m learning to like the fact she’s attracted to me. I know it’s a dick thing to say, especially after fighting this thing happening between us and making her feel like shit for it. But we always seem to end up here, and I like it.

“Can you sit down?” I ask, and she nods. She shoves her arms roughly into her coat. I’m sure she isn’t feeling any pain, and she sits down on the barstool behind her. The glazed look on her face tells me it won’t be long before she passes out. Fuck, I got here just in time. Who knows what Stinky Sasquatch would’ve done with her passed out? I don’t even know if she’s ever had a drink in her life, let alone been drunk before.

The barkeep eyes me wearily because he knows what’s about to go down. He’s read the situation right, and he does nothing to stop it from happening. Maybe Stinky has had this coming for a while and I’m the first to do something about it. I’m pissed and itching to punch beef boy’s bearded face.

“Penny, don’t move from this spot, okay?” She nods, trying her best to remain upright. I turn around and glare at the hairy motherfucker I’m tired of staring at.

“Man, seriously, my bad,” he whines and takes a step back. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I growl and step toward him. “What’s your name?”

“Tiny,” he squeaks. The group of men that once stood around the bar has already moved across the room, providing plenty of room around us. Tiny looks around for support from them, but there is none. They all ignore his eyes. They know the trouble he’s bought, and they want no piece of it.

“You’re not serious, right?” I laugh at him. Tiny? Guy is anything but tiny. He nods. “Well, then, Tiny, we have a situation.”

“We do?”

“See, from what I’ve gathered, you don’t have a lot of respect for women,” I explain, and a dawning realization filters into his mud-colored eyes. He shakes his head and opens his mouth, trying to argue, but I’ve seen and heard enough to know anything that comes out of his mouth will be a lie. “No, don’t talk. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

“But—” he starts again, but my glare turns icy, freezing him in place.

“I have this urge to plant my fist in your ugly-ass face.” His eyes grow wide. The bar is collectively silent, waiting on bated breath to see what I’m going to do. I find it interesting how this large man, with the mouth he has, is turning out to be a grade A pussy. It’s time to put my play in motion. “But I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m going to walk out of here, take my woman home, and tuck her in for the night.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, completely confused by the change in my attitude. I want him this way, though. I want to see how badly he’s going to stick his foot into his mouth. He won’t be able to stop himself.

“Before I go, I’m going to say one thing, though.” I step back and notice how quiet Penny’s become. I glance back at her and find her watching what’s developing with drunken curiousity. I want to be mad at her, but I’m the reason why she’s drinking her sorrows away. Shaking off the guilt, I look at Tiny, the mountain man resembling Sasquatch. “You need to learn the difference between a whore and a good woman just having a drink. A real man can spot the latter from a mile away. You didn’t.”

His eyes turn heated, but I’m just getting started. Only now, I have to wait and see if he takes the bait. If he’s smart, he’ll turn and walk away, but he isn’t a smart man. I turn slightly away, giving him the chance to rebuild his courage and prove he’s as dumb as I thought from the start.

“A real man doesn’t leave his bitch unattended in a bar to drink her sorrows away,” he snickers to my back. I freeze, letting the dumbass finish because, let’s face it, there’s no fixing stupid. And this fucker is stupid. “A real man doesn’t let his woman jump on top or bars to strip for strange men. Looks like a whore, sounds like a whore, must be a whore.”

The room goes cold and so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Every eye in the room is on us, watching and waiting. They know Tiny is about to have his ass handed to him, but Stinky Sasquatch can’t keep his mouth closed. He hasn’t bothered to look around him either; otherwise, he might have done the smart thing and kept his mouth closed.

“A real man? Fuck, I bet your dick’s the size of a pencil, and that’s why she’s here. She needed to find a real man to satisfy that loose pussy.” His voice grows louder as he grows braver. “A real man would turn around and take his beating like the little bitch he is.”

“You’re right, he should.” I spin on my heels, throwing my fist out as I do, and catch him off guard. Tiny might outweigh me, but I packed the power in my punch, and he falls backward, hitting the floor with a loud thump. He doesn’t move because he’s knocked out cold.

I wait a moment to see if anyone is going to come to his aid. No one says anything. No one moves. They’re too shocked over what has happened. Tiny’s had his ass handed to him.

Penny’s mouth hangs open; shock is written all over her face. Her pale skin is flushed from the alcohol, and her hair is wild from her little show... Fuck, she looks good.

“You defended my honor,” she whispers, her drunken haze no longer so heavy. I look away, not wanting to see the stars in her eyes, and reach for her hand to pull her to her feet. After she steadies herself, we move toward the door. I pause us a moment to drop a few bills down on the end of the bar to close whatever tab she’s acquired during her visit. The barkeep nods at me.

We walk out into the cold air, and I hope it’s a sobering moment for her, but she still isn’t far from passing out cold.

“You feel sick?” I ask when we stop next to the truck and I open the passenger side door for her. She shakes her head. Her blue eyes are glued to my face, but I still can’t bring myself to look at her. She climbs up into the cab, and I slam the door closed.

It’s dark out already, but I take the moment to walk around the truck to compose myself. I don’t know if I’m angry or grateful. Why she let herself drink that much I don’t know, but it’s hard to understand how she didn’t see the danger she put herself in. I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t walked in when I did. She was nearly naked. The thought of that fucker touching her perfect skin makes my stomach sick.

She’s dozing by the time I climb into the truck, and once we get on the road, she passes out completely.

There is so much going through my head, I don’t remember the drive home. All I can think about is how much I want to shake her awake and make her realize how stupid she was. Fuck, how she got the bartender to serve her without identification is something I can’t figure out. Does she know how lucky she is?

Fuck.