Katie
“Let go of my hand,” I growl.
“Or what?” he sneers.
I snap. “Or I'll shove that beer bottle up your ass.”
Both men roar with laughter like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard. Leon and Danny are regulars – and they're horrible. They are every stereotype of white trash come to life. They're usually drunk, obnoxious, and way too touchy-feely for my liking. They seem to think that buying a beer here entitles them to put their hands on me.
Having Leon holding onto my wrist like he is, dredges up all kinds of terrible memories of Victor. Of my time with him, and what he did to me. It fills me with rage, but also with an overwhelming sense of fear. It's almost like small PTSD flashbacks. I know that because of my size, and without any sort of defensive training, I'm at the mercy of larger men.
“Let go of me or I'll have Jake toss you out of the bar,” I say. “Again.”
Leon laughs. “Shit, that dickbag couldn't throw a bag of trash out of the bar.”
“Maybe not, but I can.”
I turn at the sound of Aidan's voice, shocked by his sudden appearance. He's glaring at Leon and Danny, anger darkening his features. His jaw is clenched, and his fists are balled at his sides. He looks ready to fight – and more than capable of handling himself. Leon and Danny are in their late-forties, soft around the middle, and spend more time drinking beer and eating pork rinds than doing anything even close to exercise.
Aidan, well over six-foot, looms over us all. He's got wide shoulders, a broad chest, and beneath his shirt, I’m sure I’d find a body taut with muscle. If there is a fight, I have no doubt that Aidan would tear both men apart without even breaking a sweat.
“It's okay, Aidan,” I say. “I can handle it.”
“Katie told you to let go of her wrist,” he says, almost as if he didn't hear me.
His eyes are laser-focused on the two men, and it's like nothing else exists to him. The air around us is thick with the promise of violence.
“Aidan,” I say, more firmly this time. “I got this. Leave it alone.”
I finally wrench my wrist free from Leon, but only because he's turned his attention to Aidan. He gets up off his stool, a smug smirk on his face. Danny is sitting there with a stupid grin of his own, showing off his dozen missing teeth, doing nothing, just watching the situation unfold.
Leon takes a step forward, standing up straight, trying to make himself as tall and imposing as he can – and still comes up at least six inches short of Aidan's height. Leon is mostly belly – any muscle he had turned to flab long ago. But, that doesn't mean he's not dangerous.
“Who the fuck are you?” Leon hisses.
“I'm the guy who told you to keep your hands off her,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
“What?” Leon sneers. “You her boyfriend or somethin'?”
“No,” Aidan replies. “I’m someone who’s not going to let pieces of shit like you put their hands on a woman after she clearly said not to.”
“Aidan,” I say sharply. “Leave it alone.”
Leon steps closer to Aidan, the sneer on his face growing even uglier and more menacing than before. The other patrons in the bar sense the tension and all eyes have turned to us. Jake is standing behind the bar with the phone pressed to his ear. I have no idea who he's talking to, but I motion for him to wrap it up and get his ass over here. Jake's not a big guy, nor is he particularly brawny. I know he won't be able to handle Aidan if it comes to a physical confrontation, but he might be able to hold his own against Leon. Maybe.
“What did you say to me?” Leon says as his eyes narrow.
“I think you heard me,” Aidan replies.
Not knowing what else to do, I step between the two men and put my hands on Aidan's chest. He looks down at me, but I get the impression he's not actually seeing me. He's so focused on Leon and what he wants to do to him. I shudder at the fury in his eyes. He looks like a man barely hanging on to his cool. Someone who could blow at any second.
“Aidan,” I say firmly.
He blinks, and the light of recognition flickers in his eyes. I let out a small sigh of relief. He looks at Leon and then back at me, some of the rage in his expression beginning to drain.
“It's fine,” I say. “I can handle this.”
“I don't like him putting his hands on you,” he says.
“It's not your problem,” I say. “I'll deal with it.”
“I can't let –”
I ball my hands into fists and thump them against his hard, toned chest. “It's fine,” I say. “Don't worry about it. I'm on it.”
He gives Leon another long, withering look and then turns back to me. He gives me a nod and walks away, heading back to his table. Crisis averted.
Thank God.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Leon snaps. “Fuckin' pussy.”
Danny giggles under his breath as Aidan turns back, and I let out a low groan. The flames of anger are burning high in his eyes again, and he looks like he's looking forward to a fight. Like he craves it. Whatever sense of calm he found a moment ago has vanished. And I don't think I'm going to be able to stop what's coming next.
“Leon, damn it! Shut up!” I roar at him.
Leon pushes his way past me, walking toward Aidan like he's the toughest guy in town and has already won the fight by virtue of his presence alone. I knew guys like him when I was younger and have no doubt that Leon had been a school bully. Maybe he was a jock who thought he walked on water and could treat people any way he wanted. I'm guessing he’s never encountered someone like Aidan before. A man who won't cower at his feet. Somebody who can – and will – fight back. And judging by the look on his face, Aidan seems to be looking forward to it.
Everything seems to slow down, and there's a collective gasp from the rest of the bar as Leon cocks his arm back and throws a punch. Aidan's ready for it, and deftly steps aside, letting Leon's fist sail by. For such a big man, he moves with a nimbleness and grace I wasn't expecting. Aidan's movements are a blur of motion as he grabs Leon's hand and bends it unnaturally. Leon lets out a choked scream of pain and drops to his knees.
Leon howls in agony as the rest of the bar stares wide-eyed at the unfolding spectacle. Everyone is silent, though many have grins on their faces. If there's one thing people love seeing, it's a bloody train wreck, and it looks like this is going off the rails quickly.
“Lemme go!” Leon screams. “You're gonna break my fuckin' wrist!”
Shaking myself out of my stupor, I rush over to the two combatants and give Aidan a hard, two-handed shove in the chest – though, he doesn't budge an inch.
“Let go of him!” I shout. “You're hurting him!”
I'm angry, though I don't know why. All Aidan is doing is trying to protect me. After my experiences with Victor, however, I'm not overly keen on men using their fists to solve problems or express their rage. Truth be told, after dealing with Victor, I'm not overly keen on men, period. I haven't dated anybody since leaving that asshole, and have no plans to break my year-long streak anytime soon.
Leon is a scumbag, but I don't need Aidan to play overprotective big brother for me.
Aidan moves so quickly, I can't keep up. He lets go of Leon's wrist, but the other hand is already flash of movement. It’s not until I see Leon's head snap back that I realize Aidan just delivered a blow to his nose.
Leon falls flat on his back, groaning in agony. His eyes water as he clutches his nose and crimson blood squeezes out from between his fat fingers. I'm not gonna lie, part of me is deeply satisfied at seeing Leon down on the floor and bleeding – but, I'm filled with inexplicable rage. I round on Aidan, my body filled with white-hot fury.
“What in the hell?!” I shout.
Maybe tomorrow, I'll take more open delight in Aidan decking Leon in the face. Hell, maybe I'll even laugh about it. Right now, I'm seriously pissed at how this man assumed I “needed” his protection.
“I let go of his hand,” he says. “Just like you asked me to.”
“You punched him in the nose!”
“You didn't tell me not to,” he replies calmly.
He says it with a smug, arrogant tone that I want to slap right out of him. Leon continues to roll around on the ground, howling miserably. I look over at Jake, who never moved from his spot behind the bar. At least he's not still on the phone. I shake my head and look up at Aidan.
“Maybe next time, he'll think twice about putting his hands on you,” he says.
“Maybe next time, you'll listen to me when I tell you I have it under control.”
I'm practically screaming at him, but Aidan stands there and takes it. He somehow manages to remain stoic, seemingly unaffected in the face of my wrath.
“I couldn’t sit by and watch that happen to you, Katie,” he says. “I just couldn’t.”
“I didn’t need your help, Aidan,” I seethe. “I didn't ask for it. I had it under control.”
“It didn't look that way to me.”
“Yeah well I did,” I snap.
The doors to the bar open and Sheriff Keller walks in, a deep frown on his face, looking annoyed as hell. Now, I know who Jake was on the phone with. Keller walks over and looks down at Leon, still writhing in agony on the ground. A frown pulls the corners of the Sheriff's mouth down even further.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands.
“Nothing, Sheriff,” I say. “Just a disagreement.”
He looks from Leon to me, then over to Aidan. “One hell of a disagreement, I'd say.”
Keller is a big man and a hometown boy. Born and raised in Ashton Mill. He's probably an inch or two shorter than Aidan, but thick and brawny. He's got a small paunch beginning to form around his midsection and a little gray at the temples. He's a good-looking man, but a little too intense for my liking. He's former Army and runs the Sheriff's department like a military unit. It's not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, the police are really on top of things around here.
“This man,” Aidan says pointing at Leon, “was in the process of assaulting Katie. I stopped him.”
“Yeah, looks like you stopped him pretty good,” Keller says.
“He wasn't assaulting me,” I say.
“He grabbed her and wouldn't let go, Sheriff,” Aidan says. “He was hurting her, against her will. To me, that's assault.”
“He wasn't hurting me, and I didn't ask for your help!”
Keller turns to me, looking me up and down, then turns his eyes to Leon. I can see his contempt and disdain for the man on his face. He knows what a scumbag Leon is every bit as much as I do. And I know he believes every word coming out of Aidan's mouth.
Honestly, I don't know why I'm trying to stick up for Leon. Maybe, I don't like how Aidan stuck his nose into my business. Though, a large part of me is grateful for it. I know there was no way I could get my arm free from Leon, no matter how hard I pulled and yanked, if Aidan hadn't intervened.
When he grabbed me, all the terrible memories I'd accrued during my time with Victor came up all over again – and I was scared. Petrified. I guess the reason I'm fighting against Aidan right now is because I never want to be beholden to a man again. I never want to feel powerless like I did with Victor. I will never give up my power and control to anyone else. Ever again.
The Sheriff looks over at Danny, who's sitting at his table, his eyes so big, they might pop right out of his head. He looks like he's high on something, if you ask me.
“Danny,” Keller says. “Come get your friend and get out of here. Now.”
Danny scrambles off his stool and scurries over to Leon, helping the big man to his feet. Slinging Leon's arm around his shoulder, Danny walks him out of the bar, and quiet snickers and giggles burst from the darkened corners of the place – but only after the door closes behind them. Bunch of cowards. At least Aidan faced him straight up. I can't deny that.
Keller turns to Aidan and eyes him up and down appraisingly. “You're Anderson, yeah?”
Aidan nods. “Aidan.”
“You bought the old Wilkerson estate up in Whitetail Hollow, didn't you?”
He nods. “Yeah, that's me.”
I look over at Aidan as my eyes widen with surprise. Whitetail Hollow is an exclusive neighborhood of luxury estates scattered among the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, only affordable by the ultra-rich. The ultra-elite of society.
I've never been up there, but Jessa – my best friend and roommate – has told me all about it. From what she's said, the estates up there are huge, sprawling. Every home is a mansion that comes with huge parcels of land. It's quiet. Private. Remote. And best of all, secure.
Yeah, I wish I could afford a place of my own up there. Even though Victor is long gone, some small part of me is still afraid he's going to turn up here. Some part of me that fears he'll pop up out of nowhere like an evil Jack-in-the-Box from hell. I know it's paranoid, and that he's hundreds of miles in my rearview mirror, but given what I went through with him, I think my paranoia is a bit justified. I know what kind of man he is – and I can only hope that he's moved on and forgotten all about me.
It surprises me that Aidan lives up in the Hollow though, only because he doesn't come across as the mega-rich type to me. I've never seen him in a suit. He's always dressed in jeans and normal clothes. He's got a closely trimmed beard, and honestly, looks more of the salt-of-the-earth lumberjack type, than some corporate billionaire.
But hell, what do I know?
“Well, I'd say you taught ol' Leon a valuable lesson tonight,” Keller says. “But, I think it best if you call it a night and head on home yourself now.”
Aidan nods, and Keller turns away.
“Okay folks, show's over,” he says. “Go back to your beers and the game.”
Keller gives me one last nod before walking out of the bar, chuckling to himself as he goes. Everyone in the place continues to stare at us, and I suddenly feel very self-conscious. Jake claps his hands a few times to get everybody's attention.
“Show's over, guys!” he shouts. “C'mon, stop staring. Next round is on the house!”
That elicits some cheers, and the bar loses interest in us, turning their focus to Jake to claim their freebie – which leaves Aidan and I standing there, staring at one another as a tense, awkward silence fills the air between us. Even though nobody else seems to be paying attention to us anymore, the feeling of self-consciousness doesn't abate. If anything, with Aidan looming over me, his steely blue-grey eyes boring into my own, it only grows stronger.
I feel my pulse quicken beneath his gaze. It would be so easy to lose myself in those eyes. He's got such a strong, rugged, handsome face. Aidan tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. He’s always done his best to avoid showing any kind of emotion. But, there are cracks in that facade. And in those cracks, I notice the pain he goes to such great lengths to hide.
My thoughts and emotions are getting the best of me, and I know I need to stuff them down. Lock them away. I refuse to lose myself in another man. I won't. Clearing my throat, I summon all the anger and outrage that had infused me only moments ago. I narrow my eyes and stare daggers at Aidan.
“Sheriff Keller told you to go,” I say, appalled at the lack of conviction in my voice.
He looks at me a moment longer and then nods. “Okay. I'll leave.”
As Aidan walks back to his table to grab his jacket, a piece of me wants to tell him to stay. To talk to him. Get to know him. But, the bigger, more ruthless part of me, the part that survived Victor, shuts it down quickly.
I fold my arms over my chest and watch Aidan walk toward the door. He gives me one last, lingering look, an inscrutable expression on his face – is it longing? – before he steps out into the night beyond.
* * *
“Wow. Sounds like you had quite a night.”
A wry grin touches my lips as I step through the front door. Jessa is sitting on the couch, book in hand, two wine glasses on the ottoman in front of her. She's been waiting for me. Obviously.
I toss my keys onto the table next to the door and hang my bag up on the rack behind it. I walk over and drop down onto the couch next to her, giving her a cheeky grin.
“I sometimes forget how fast gossip travels here,” I say.
“Nothing in this town moves faster,” she laughs.
She picks up a glass of wine and hands it to me. I take a sip, grateful to feel the tension of the night starting to slowly melt away. My shoulders and neck start to loosen up, and the pounding in my head begins to ease.
Jessa and I went to school together at Georgia for a few semesters and became fast friends. When her mom got sick, she ended up having to leave school to care for her. Her mom died about six months before I left Victor, and she offered to put me up here when I made my escape. Said it would help her out to have another person split the bills and all.
She's taking classes – online, mostly – to finish out her degree, and works at the bar when she has time. Needless to say, given her limited schedule, she doesn't make a whole lot of money, so having me here to pitch in helps keep the lights on and food in the fridge. It's a win-win situation for both of us.
“So, are you going to give me the real story?” Jessa asks. “Because, according to the grapevine, it was the second coming of the gunfight at the OK Corral down there tonight.”
I laugh. “Hardly,” I say. “It was kind of tense though, to be honest.”
“Do tell.”
I tell her the story, starting from the moment Aidan walked in until the moment he walked out. I revealed everything I was thinking and feeling. Jessa is my best friend, and we share everything with each other. It's nice that I can trust Jessa to listen, give it to me straight, and never judge me too harshly. I can always trust that she’ll tell me what's on her mind and be supportive of me.
“You realize you're being an idiot, right?” she asks and laughs. “And kind of an asshole, too.”
Jessa also never pulls her punches and won’t hesitate to tell me when I'm in the wrong.
“How am I an asshole?” I ask, so taken aback by her assessment, all I can do is laugh.
“Well, first of all, Aidan is gorgeous,” she says. “We're talking like David Beckham hot.”
“I'm not disagreeing with that,” I reply. “But, that doesn't tell me how I'm being an asshole.”
“It sounds like he was trying to protect you, duh,” Jessa says. “I mean, we all know what a piece of shit Leon is. If he was holdin' on to you like that, and you couldn't get away, it's a good thing Aidan was there to bust his face.”
“I just don't like feeling like I owe him something,” I say. “Or like I need him to protect me.”
“Honey, in this case, you did need him to protect you,” she says. “Leon's a fat ass, but he's stronger than an ox. I, for one, am glad that Aidan put him in his place. Took him down a few notches. You know that arrogant son of a bitch deserved it.”
“He did,” I admit. “I just – I dunno.”
My words fail me and I'm left sitting there, not really sure why I'm so pissed off at Aidan. I know he was only trying to help me. I needed help – I was just too afraid to ask for it. Too proud, maybe. And yet, when Aidan jumped in, although a small part of me was relieved, I still resented him for doing it.
Yeah, I've known for a while now that I'm screwed up – this only shows just how broken I really am.
“Most women would have swooned over a perfect guy coming to their rescue like that. Talk about a white knight,” she says and smiles, looking like she might swoon herself.
A rueful grin touches my lips. “Yeah, but most women haven't gone through what I have,” I say. “And, I don't know him. I know absolutely nothing about him. And neither do you, so I don't think you can say he's the perfect guy. He could be far from it.”
Jessa takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I know I haven't gone through what you have, Kat,” she says. “But, maybe this is the universe giving you a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
“That maybe, you're ready to start thinking about your future. About moving on.”
The bark of laughter that burst from my throat sounds harsh and brittle. “How do you figure?”
Jessa gives me a knowing smile. “I see that sparkle in your eye when you talk about Aidan,” she says. “You're crushin' on that man. Hard. Don't even try to deny it because I can see it.”
“Please,” I say, feeling my cheeks flare with heat. “Even if that were true – and I'm not saying it is – I don't know the first thing about this guy.”
“Oh, I do,” Jessa says brightly. “His name is Aidan Anderson, He's 32 years old, he's the President and CEO of the Southeast territory of Anderson Development Enterprises. He's worth more money than Steve Jobs, he's built like an Adonis –”
My laughter is softer and more genuine this time. “What, have you been stalking the guy?”
“No,” she replies. “But, he was a total mystery when he moved into town. His name was constantly running through the gossip mill, so I thought I'd just do a little research. He came into the bar a few times before you moved here, and I got his name off a credit card receipt and just, y'know, Googled him.”
“Light research,” I say. “In other words, you stalked him.”
“Only online,” Jessa says and laughs.
“Well, since you've already done the research, why don't you go after him?”
Jessa takes a sip of her wine and shrugs. “Oh, believe me, I tried. Threw my best Southern charm at him,” she says. “Didn't make a dent. He wasn't interested in me. Like at all. Damn it.”
“That's crazy,” I say. “You're amazing. You're everyone’s type.”
“Apparently, not Aidan Anderson’s.”
I find that hard to believe. I'm not kidding when I say that Jessa is everybody's type. She's tall, slim, with full breasts and hips – she’s a perfect example of the sweet Southern belle men have fetishized for years. She's got an accent that drips like the sweetest honey and is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I have no idea why Aidan wouldn't be interested in her.
“If he's not interested in you, there is no way he'd be interested in me,” I say.
“Katie, you're gorgeous –”
“I'm not fishing for compliments, Jess,” I say, meaning it – compliments have never been my thing.
“I know you're not,” she replies. “I'm just telling you how it is. You're gorgeous, and if you think otherwise, you’re an idiot. And you are very clearly, Aidan Anderson's type.”
“Right,” I say and laugh. “Clearly, you've hit the wine too hard tonight.”
“I see how he looks at you,” she says. “I've seen the way he kind of watches you – mostly when you're not at his table. Not in a creepy way or anything. He just watches you with this sweet look on his face. It’s almost – awe. He looks at you like you're some living goddess or something.”
I laugh harder and shake my head. “You're either drunk or delusional.”
She shrugs. “It's true. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”
I'm not going to lie. The idea that Aidan looks at me in a special way sends a small shiver through me. I can't pretend it doesn't. Not even to myself. He has the face and body of a model, a quiet, easy charm, and is ruggedly handsome. But, I haven't seen him look at me the way Jessa says he does. Not even once.
“I think you're mistaken,” I say. “We’ve talked a bunch of times, and he's never given me any indication he's interested.”
“Actually,” she says, “I think you're so busy protecting yourself by keeping those high, thick walls around your heart, that you don’t allow yourself to see it.”
“I don't think so,” I say.
She laughs. “Of course, you don't,” she says. “But, ask yourself this – in all the time he's been coming here, have you ever seen him talk to someone else like he does with you? Anybody? Me, or any of the other girls?”
I cock my head and try to think back as far as I can, but come up empty.
“I don't know,” I finally admit. “I'm sure he has, I just don't recall.”
She shakes her head. “He hasn't. Trust me,” she says. “He'll order his drinks, but that's as far as the conversation goes. He's not mean or anything, he just makes it clear he wants to sit there and drink by himself. Except with you. When it comes to you, he seems to come alive. He actually speaks.”
I clear my throat and try to hide the grin on my face with my wine glass as I take another drink. I wasn't ready for Jessa's blunt assessment of my mental and emotional well-being, or her observations about Aidan.
“I don't know, Jess,” I say. “My head is full of bad shit right now. I can't even begin to think about any sort of romantic interest – or lack thereof. I need to get my life in order first. I want to go back to school. I want to be a marine biologist. I shouldn't be thinking about getting involved with anyone right now. Not until I get my head on straight again.”
“Oh, the interest is there alright,” she says. “But, I understand where you're coming from. I mean, I get it. I understand you're doing what you need to do, but I don't think Aidan is the bad guy here.”
I drain the last of my wine and sit back on the sofa, suddenly feeling very tired. Weary. Exhausted. All I want to do is crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and go to sleep.
“Even if you don't want to be with him romantically, you should still go apologize, you know,” she says.
“Apologize?” I ask, my eyes wide. “Apologize for what?”
She nods, a mischievous grin touching her lips. “Like I said earlier, you were kind of rude to him,” she says. “All he was trying to do –”
“Was help. Yeah, yeah, I know,” I say. “And I know he didn't deserve me lashing out at him like that. Truth be told, I feel like kind of a bitch.”
Deep down, I know she's right. A strong current of guilt flows through me for having berated him like I did. The fact that I’m a screwed-up mess isn't his fault. He was only trying to help. I also know that Jess is right – a lot of women would love to be saved by an act of chivalry like that.
I just had a bad reaction because of my own personal experiences. My own demons. Treating Aidan like I did, however – is not cool. I know it. I knew it when I was doing it. But still couldn't stop myself.
“So, you'll go see him tomorrow then? Olive branch in hand?” Jessa asks.
I eye her skeptically. “You seem awfully invested in this,” I say. “You aren’t working some hidden angle here, would you? Trying to play matchmaker, perhaps?”
She laughs, and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Of course not,” she says, her accent dripping with syrupy sweetness. “I just believe in doing the right thing, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” I respond dryly.
“Well?” she asks, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Fine,” I say and sigh theatrically. “I'll go make amends tomorrow.”
She claps her hands and practically squeals with excitement. “Can't wait to hear all about it!”
I grin and shake my head. “Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you can't, you little troublemaker.”
She beams. “It's why you love me.”
“Yeah, that must be it,” I say. “Anyway, I should get to bed. I'm beat and apparently have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes you do,” she says. “I'm gonna stay up and read a bit longer. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I shuffle down the hallway toward my bedroom, the idea of apologizing to Aidan filling me with a sense of doom that presses down harder and harder with each step. It's the right thing to do. I know that. I’ve screwed up a lot in life so far, but I usually always try to do the right thing.
As silly as it sounds, it also feels like I'm opening the door to something I'm not ready for – and I don’t know how to feel about that.