Page 12 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

Reggie stepped forward. “I changed my mind. You can go out with me after all. How about now?”

“You’re disgusting,” Sam said without thinking. A mistake, because rage lit his too-perfect face, bringing to it an ugliness she’d never seen before. He reached forward and grabbed her purse strap from her shoulder, giving it a strong tug that made her fight to steady herself.

“I don’t think she’s learned her lesson at all, Monique,” Reggie said. “She needs another one.”

He gave the purse strap a harsh yank, catapulting her forward, and planted his slimy lips on hers. She pushed at him with all her might and kneed him in the balls.

Reggie doubled over, letting out a howl. She stared for a moment, stunned at what she’d done. Bad idea, because the two other boys quickly moved forward and grabbed her by the arms.

“Let me go!” she cried. She wriggled her shoulders, but they were big, meaty guys. As she struggled, one of them twisted her arm until she cried out in pain.

“You heard her,” an unfamiliar voice said, deep and low and confident.

She looked up and saw a figure emerge from the shadows. The guy from Clinker’s. He looked twice as tall as he had from across the street.

Relief flooded her system, and she knew at that instant she was safe. He had this ...presence, and it made the others huddled in their stupid little group visibly cower.

His calm, steady gaze rolled over her. She tried to stand straight and not act frightened but her legs were shaking. Her hands, too. She bit her lip because she refused to break down and cry in front of these idiots. He might have asked her if she was okay, but she was too busy thanking Jesus and all the saints for the intervention.

“Spike. You know her?” Reggie asked.

Spike? That was his name? In all the hours she’d spent imagining it, never had that particular one occurred to her. “Spike” looked calm enough to do neurosurgery as he addressed the crowd. “She’s my girlfriend,” he said. “I want you to leave her—and her friends—alone.” He aimed a spearing glance at Monique and the girls. “That means you, Monique. Time to find somebody else to pick on.”

“Look,” Monique said with her signature head toss. “She’s got it coming to her. My dad grounded me until graduation. I almost lost my Dartmouth admission. She needs to be put in her place.”

“Everything stops now,” Spike said. “You hear?”

Sam’s head was whirling. This commanding, foreboding guy had saved her. Claimed her by stamping her with the wordmine.Just like that, her fear broke apart, an ice floe getting crunched by an icebreaker.

Reggie was the first to back off. “Come on, Monique. Let’s go get a burger and forget this. Who needs her anyway?”

Monique’s gaze still tossed daggers, but she focused it on Reggie, who had taken her hand and was tugging at it. “Come on, babe,” he said. “We have better things to do.”

“She’s no good, Spike,” Monique said. “You’ll see.”

ButSpike, as they called him, wasn’t even looking at Monique. Or Reggie or Rod or any of the thugs. He was looking at her, with those dangerous eyes. He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, giving her the slightest nod. As if he was asking her permission to intervene.

In spite of her churning stomach, her tremulousness from being pulled from the brink of disaster, and her relief at being whole and intact, she smiled back.

Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked off.

Sam focused on breathing as the boy from Clinker’s led her down the street. She struggled to put one step before the other. Because he was holding her in a way that was too possessive, one she never would have tolerated from a guy she barely knew. He smelled good, like Dial soap and the cool night air. And he was warm. She liked it all—him—way too much.

He didn’t say anything for several blocks. They’d wandered away from the square, and she realized they were near the auto repair shop. She could see the bright red doors shining in the glow from a fluorescent streetlight. He slowed to a stop and looked behind them, checking to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Maybe she should have been afraid that she was alone with him in the semi-seedy part of town, but she wasn’t. She felt safe for the first time in months.

They stood a couple feet apart under the streetlight. She’d gotten a sense of how tall he was as they’d walked, but straight on she realized his height was somewhere between Brad’s, who was six feet, and Ben’s, who was six four. Nice.

He angled his head in the direction of the shop. “Do you want to come up a minute?” he asked.

He reached out and touched a curl, one of many that had gone AWOL all over her head. She should have stepped back, or run, or donesomething, but she was frozen in place, mesmerized by his gentleness and the look in his eyes that made her heart beat runaway-train fast.

“You act so tough,” he said, his voice low and a little rough, like gravel. “But you aren’t, are you?”

She stiffened. “I am tough. Look, I didn’t need you to come along and—”

He held up his hands in defense. “You did knee Reggie in the balls.”

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