Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(64)

Beth came up now and said, “Connie and I have the dining room under control, Shannon. Why don’t you take Sir Lancelot back, and I’ll deal with our friendly friend.”

Shannon nodded, feeling shaken and furious, and caught Show’s good hand, dragging him back through the parlor, through her office, and into her apartment. She slammed the door and locked it. When she turned back to Show, he was on her, pulling her close with his good arm. She knew he was trying to comfort her, but she pushed him off.

“What the hell was that?”

He gaped at her. “What—you’re mad at me? What the f*ck?”

“I’m mad at both of you. What were you doing, storming in there like that? How do you think that was going to help?”

“Shannon, are you kidding me with this shit? He was all over you. I should cut off those f*cking hands and make him eat them!”

“And how does that help the inn? How does that help Signal Bend? And, God! You have one hand yourself! How were you going to do anything?”

That was the wrong thing to say. His blue eyes went dark, and he used that one good hand to grab her and virtually throw her to the wall. He winced, but he did it. And then he leaned in, snarling. Shannon was scared.

His voice low and dangerous, he said, “You saying I can’t take care of you? You don’t think I can protect you? That it?”

In the face of that dark rage, she calmed. “No, Show. I’m saying I had it. I can take care of myself, too.

It’s not the first time in my career a drunk guest has gotten fresh with me. And we have to be careful with these Hollywood people.”

“You willing to get felt up for the goddamn movie? What does that make you, then?”

Okay, she was angry again. She tried to push his hand off her shoulder, but she couldn’t get it to budge.

So, instead, knowing it was a dirty trick, but doing it anyway, she slapped him in the gut, right over his recently healed and still tender incision. He grunted hard and backed off.

“Go to hell, Show. I’m not willing to get felt up. I had it handled. Even if you were 100%, the only thing that you going at him would accomplish is tearing apart my dining room. And maybe ruining this whole movie thing—which, I’ll point out, is supposed to be part of the town recovery.”

She must have hit him hard; he was still clutching his stomach. He sat down with a groan and a sigh. “If I go to the Keep and say what that * just did, the movie is dead. Nobody cares about the damn movie so much that we’re willing to let one of ours be disrespected.”

Sitting down next to him, she put her hand on his leg. “I appreciate that. But I didn’t need a rescue. I had it.”

He looked her in the eye. “It’s not just about you, hon. It’s about me. He knows you’re mine. You don’t push up on another man’s woman. And you don’t let it stand when it happens. And that wasn’t flirting.

That was a f*ckin’ assault.”

“It was. You’re right. It made me sick. But by the time David Gordon leaves this establishment, he will have apologized to me in every way he knows how, and he won’t feel like he was forced to do it. I promise.” A thought entered her mind, and she considered it. “I get what you’re saying about it being disrespectful to you, too. But I don’t want you hurt, and you know full well you’re not done healing yet.

Show, I just took you off your feet with a slap.”

He started to protest, and she put her hand over his mouth. “I get it. If you need to deal with it—in some way that doesn’t hurt you, the inn, or the town—then go ahead. Just get help, and don’t do it here.”

“Jesus, woman. You might as well just cut off my balls and stick ‘em in a jar. No one in the Horde is stronger than me. I’m the one they come to for that kind of help. Not the one who seeks it out.”

She laughed, and he scowled. “Show, you almost died not two months ago. It’s not weak to need a minute to recuperate. And I like your balls where they are.” She opened his belt and started on the buttons of his jeans. “I like your whole package, in fact.” He got hard in her hand, and she grinned. “Can we do something more fun than fight, now? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, bringing her close. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I agree.” She closed the last fraction of an inch between them and kissed him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN



Seemed like virtually the whole town was crammed in and around the clubhouse and lot, welcoming the Horde back from a charity run, their first full club run in a year or better, and Show’s first ride of any length since his accident. The weather on this mid-April weekend was sunny and on the warm side, perfect for a run—and one that didn’t include anything but good friends, good food, good drink, and good works.

Well, a little business, but nothing high-octane. It had been refreshing to enjoy a club ride and the company of their tribe, and now the town had gathered to continue the party at home.

Club business had been basically legit for a year and a half, focused mainly on the town, and Signal Bend had crawled out of decades’ worth of rubble and found its feet. Even after a rough winter, the town was standing and getting stronger. The Horde had had to bail out a few new businesses that hadn’t planned well for winter hibernation, but they would plan better for next year. They wouldn’t have a choice.