Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(54)

Several women, including Bobbie Jo, giggled nearby.

Cowboy’s laugh caught my attention and I looked over my shoulder at him. “Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” he asked.

“What’s the difference? I can’t help it if this vile oaf doesn’t understand basic English.” I turned to walk away, but stopped beside Cowboy. “Unlike you, I don’t have to settle a dispute with fists. I know how to use my mouth effectively.”

“I know how to use your mouth, too,” Jeremy said to my back. “Those pretty lips sure would make a great resting place for my dick.”

In the blink of an eye, Cowboy launched himself at Jeremy, tackling him onto a nearby table that crashed to the ground beneath their weight. The two of them broke apart on impact, but that didn’t stop the squabble. They wrestled with each other, both trying to gain a foothold to return to a standing position. When Cowboy finally managed to shove Jeremy away, they jumped to their feet and the entire bar erupted into a madhouse.

Women spread in every direction, scattering to avoid getting hit, while other men jumped into the fight and threw punches. I yelled for Cowboy to stop, but my words were drowned out by the ribald shouts of the men and terrified shrieks coming from the ladies.

Stunned, I stood in place and watched Jeremy land a jab to Cowboy’s ribs that shoved him against the wooden banister of the dance floor. Reacting, Cowboy wheeled around and struck Jeremy with a well-aimed thrust of his boot and a punch to his chiseled jaw.

The dramatically chaotic situation worsened as more men closed in. Shoved back through the crowd, I lost sight of the others. That’s when I realized I stood smack dab in the middle of something closely resembling a war zone without a single recognizable face in the bunch.

A dizzying number of glass bottles, broken chairs, and bloody fists flew around me. And the men who weren’t fighting sure as hell weren’t helping the situation. They stood on the outskirts of the entanglement, taking bets and shouting encouragements to the soldiers in battle, as if they enjoyed the entertainment.

Then I caught a glimpse of Cowboy swimming through the sea of people with his eyes focused solely on mine. He had a painful-looking bruise on his left cheek, a knot on his forehead, and a small cut over his right brow. Yet he kept a diligent watch on me as he swiftly and competently made his way toward me like his body was on autopilot.

Once he made it to me, he didn’t waste any time sliding his arm around my waist and escorting me toward the side exit. As he pushed us through the crowd, he kept his body close to mine, insulating me from the splintering wood, shattering glass, and wild punches. Without a single word, he towed me out the door, through the parking lot, and lifted me into passenger seat of his truck.

Relieved, I let out the breath I’d been holding in. Sanctuary, at last.

As Cowboy maneuvered around the front of the truck to the driver’s side, a horn sounded nearby. Jake, Emily, and Bobbie Jo were piled into the front seat of Jake’s truck and waved as they pulled out of the parking lot. I’d forgotten all about them when the fight broke out, but they’d apparently waited outside to make sure we’d made it out okay.

We had, but the way Cowboy gave them a half-hearted, pissed-off wave and climbed silently into the driver’s seat led me to believe this wasn’t the shelter from the storm I’d originally thought. Not only was he pissed, but I had no doubt we were about to have an unavoidable discussion I wanted nothing more than to…well, avoid.

Cowboy started the truck and peeled out onto the highway. His fingers held the steering wheel in a death grip as his dilated eyes fixed on the dark road, but he stayed silent the entire drive. If his strategy was to wait me out, it didn’t work. I wasn’t looking forward to talking to him. And at the rate of speed he was driving, maybe I wouldn’t have to.

The small cut above his right eyebrow wasn’t bleeding, but the goose egg on his forehead and the large bruise on his left cheek were swelling more with every passing minute. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, but his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel kept me from doing so.

Within minutes, he slammed to a stop in front of my house, jerked open his door, and slid out. Guess our night wasn’t going to end quite as soon as I’d hoped. Still completely mute, he walked me to my front door and waited for me to unlock it. The moment I pushed it open, Cowboy said, “What’s your f*cking problem?”

I blinked at him. “My problem?” I asked, my tone littered with disbelief. “I’m not the one who started a riot in the bar.”

“Yeah, well what the hell did you want me to do? Not only did that bastard put his filthy hands on you, but he also put his disgusting mouth on yours. Ya know, we call him ‘Germy’ for a f*cking reason.” Cowboy exhaled a hard breath, as if to calm himself down. “You expect me to just walk away after how he treated you.”

“Really, Cowboy,” I said, rolling my eyes. “How is it any different than the way you’ve treated me yourself?”

I started inside, but Cowboy braced his arm across the doorway, blocking my entry. “Wait just a f*cking minute. I’ve never treated you like that.”

I raised a brow to him. “Oh, yeah?”

“You damn well know I haven’t. I’ve never forced myself on you. You wanted me to kiss you…both times.”

“How do you know? Did you ask me?”