Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman #2)(24)

My head was pounding right along with my heart, and my throat was raw.

“Breathe, honey.”

I gulped in a quick breath, trying to force myself to think more clearly.

It took me six more deep breaths before I finally calmed enough to realize what exactly had just happened.

Panic attack.

I hadn’t had one of those since I was twenty-two and a sophomore in college when a pit bull had run up on me when I was jogging and scared the living crap out of me.

Its owner had caught his escape and called him back, but the damage had been done.

I’d fallen to the ground in a helpless heap, hands covering my head and curling into a ball in a useless attempt to protect my vital organs.

That hadn’t happened this time. Flint obviously had sensed something wrong and had grabbed me before I could go into that protective position.

“I’m okay,” I lied.

A wet tongue licked my hand, and this time I didn’t freak out.

I guess, in a way, I’d been expecting it.

I blew out a shaky breath and looked down into the soulful brown eyes of Dooley.

He looked sorry to have caused me pain—if a dog could look sorry.

For some reason, I really felt like he was.

“You’re not okay,” Flint disagreed. “You’re shaking so hard that I’m sure if I let you go, you’d fall to the ground.”

I took advantage of the situation—I was a shameless hussy and would take what I could get—and buried my face into Flint’s throat.

He smelled good—like the shower gel that I’d used in his shower earlier—and for some odd reason being in his arms was a whole lot more comforting than it probably should have been.

I mean, with as much as we fought, it shouldn’t be this perfect.

Except, it was.

And his dog leaning on my leg was perfect, too.

It was like they were protecting me and all I had to do was let them.

“She okay?” Raleigh’s soft voice came from behind me.

I shivered.

“She’s fine. Just getting her bearings,” Flint rumbled.

I felt the vibration of his words along my whole upper half.

“Okay,” Raleigh said. “I’m going to go to our seats. Bring her there when you’re ready.”

With that, I heard her walk away, and then blew out a breath of relief at knowing we were alone.

“Did I scream?” I asked worriedly.

“No,” he said. “You moaned. Panicked and tried to hide, but other than that, had you not been shaking and in my arms, I might not have known anything was wrong with you. You would’ve just disappeared into these shadows and nobody would have thought to look.”

I inhaled deeply, and blew that breath out, too.

“It was the dark,” I admitted. “I freak out when I don’t anticipate the touch. Your dog probably thinks I’m crazy.”

He snorted. “He’s not the only one.”

I reached up and pinched him on the arm, but still didn’t move from my position.

“I was talking about Raleigh,” he lied.

I snorted and straightened my spine, my face coming out of his neck at the same time.

“Okay.” I breathed one last time. “It’s time for you to get to work.”

I could practically feel his reluctance at letting me go, but eventually, he did, and I felt freezing cold the instant he was no longer touching me.

“I guess I really should probably get to work,” he admitted. “Gotta be seen.”

I smiled, but it came out rather shaky, which he somehow saw in the gloomy darkness surrounding us.

“I’ll find you after the game is over and we’ll go out for ice cream,” he said.

I shook my head. “No. I’m on a diet. One you put me on…remember?”

He snorted. “Rules are made to be broken, honey.”

With that, he patted me on the ass and walked away before I could so much as squeak out an indignant, “Hey!”

I found Raleigh about five minutes later, sitting at the fifty-yard line right in the middle of the large crowd.

My belly instantly revolted.

I most certainly did not want to climb up in the middle of that mess and act like everything was all right. I was still a bit raw on the inside, and I was still feeling the effects of Flint’s arms around me.

That was why when Raleigh saw me and looked at me questioningly, I held my phone up to her.

After tapping out a quick text telling her I was going home, she frowned but nodded at me in understanding.

I escaped then and tried not to wonder whether Flint had noticed my retreat.





Chapter 7


Don’t mess with my kids. I don’t want to have to go all street on your ass.

-Flint to a drug dealer

Flint

“She what?” I asked Raleigh.

“She left about five minutes after I left the bathroom and her. She’s probably at home,” she answered.

I sighed.

“Okay,” I said, pausing. “What’s her address?”

“What makes you think I should give it to you?” she questioned. “I saw y’all fighting.”

That was true.

Ezra snorted. “Foreplay, honey. Foreplay.”