Page 68 of The Wedding Engagement

Liv lifted her glass toward her. “No problem, Miss M.”

“And thanks for organizing a lovely dinner,” Maya told Elise.

Elise leaned in to kiss Maya’s cheek, simultaneously sliding an arm around Liv’s waist. Maya lifted her arms around them both too, creating a three-way hug. Liv cuddled in and both of them gave her a squeeze. She could tell it was their way of silently conveying to her that they were there for her after the trauma of Douchebag Dave’s showing up the week before, without their breaking either rule one or rule two of the sten weekend.

She smiled to herself, the affection of her friends creating a fuzzy warmth in her chest.

Glancing up from the cocoon of her best-friend snuggle, she thought she caught one of the raised-eyebrow men from theirentrance looking away. They mustn’t have been expecting dressed-up people. It was a casual pub, after all.

Once the champagne was drained, there were noises about going back to the house, started mainly by Sam and Maya. Liv had the sneaking suspicion that they wanted some alone time, which was fair enough.

Everyone gathered their coats, and as they got to the door, Liv’s bladder complained loudly. She decided that she’d need to visit the ladies’ room prior to departure. “You guys start walking; I’ll only be a sec,” she told Elise.

“I’ll wait for you,” Elise replied, pausing at the exit.

“It’s fine, I’ll catch up. I just don’t think I can hold it until we get back,” Liv said, holding her belly and doing a little full-bladder dance.

Elise laughed. “No worries. We’ll walk slowly.”

Liv nipped past the bar to use the restroom. She washed up quickly and headed to the front door, opening it and stepping out.

Something grasped her wrist out of the darkness, nearly yanking her shoulder out and making her wobble on her heels. She snapped her head around and took in the raised-eyebrow man from inside the pub, lurking next to the doorway and holding on to her wrist tightly.

Steadying herself, she glanced down at his hand on her wrist, then back at his sneering face. Anger spiked her chest. “Let go.”

“Where are you off to?” he asked, not loosening his grip.

She stiffened. “None of your business.”

His grip tightened. “Why don’t you come with me instead, darling?”

She gritted her teeth. “No, thanks.”

He shifted closer, his fingers pressing painfully into the soft underside of her wrist. “I’m staying just around the corner.”

Liv took a deep breath. “This is your final warning. Let go of me.”

He let out a snigger and gave her a leery smirk, which set off a hot burst of anger in her gut. He didn’t loosen his grasp.

In a fluid movement, she stepped back with her right foot and yanked her wrist down and out of his grip, simultaneously smashing her other hand onto his forearm in an open-hand strike. As the twat let out a yelp and went to grab his arm, she crashed the heel of her hand into his face, causing him to recoil and stumble back as he lifted his hands to his nose.

He took his hands away briefly, glancing at the blood streaking them. “You fucking bitch.”

In the split second that it took her to slip out of her heels, ready to grab them and run, something whooshed past her and slammed into the man.

Liv grasped her shoes and was about to begin her sprint when she realized the whooshing thing was a person. Someone whose honey-colored eyes appeared black and menacing in the moonlight.

“Stay the hell away from her, or I will fuckingendyou,” Arran said to the twat through gritted teeth. “Do you understand me?”

The twat let out a whimper and held his hands up, and Arran dragged him away from the wall, practically throwing him along the street, at which point he started to run in the opposite direction, holding his nose.

Arran turned back to Liv and took her shoes from her, the dark look in his eyes melting away to soft concern. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, trying to catch her breath.

He crouched to place her shoes back on her feet. “You can’t walk without shoes on. There’s some broken glass farther down the street.”

She lifted each foot in silence, the warm sensation of his grasp on her calf in order to place each shoe rapidly evaporating the adrenaline of the fight.

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