Page 147 of Crushing Clover

“Did I ask you, motherfucker?” She reached between the seats and came up with a handgun she aimed in Saint’s direction. All four of us took a step back. “I asked the girl if she’s okay.”

Fuck. All I’d have to do is say no. This woman had a look in her eye that said she’d drive me to the nearest police station, or maybe to another country, albeit none too fast.

After a stunned pause, I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I told her, stepping between the gun and Saint, since he was the one she had it leveled on. I held up my hands placatingly. “We’re just goofing around.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and lowered her weapon. “You’re playing with fire, goofing around with three big men like that.”

“Oh, I know.” I flashed her a grin as she tucked away her gun.

She barked a laugh. “You girls are so wild these days—makes me wish I was young again. Sorry for calling you a motherfucker, young man.”

Saint arched a brow. “You’re not the first person to call me that, and you won’t be the last.”

“I’m sure.”

“Thanks for stopping to check on her,” Rush said. “You never know.”

“Nope. You never do.” She looked him over and gave him a wink before driving away.

Lucky slapped him on the back. “Should we be worried? She looked like she wanted a piece of you.”

“If I ever wanted a dominant, you might have something to worry about.”

Carefully not touching me, Saint glanced around. “Get your ass back inside before I come up with a creative and unpleasant way to punish you.”

“I was willing to take a bullet for you, and this is how I’m repaid?” I asked sweetly.

“In!” he barked.

I skipped back to the restaurant stairs to piss him off, and the surly grumbling that followed me made me grin.

Chapter 29

“You think you’re so funny,” Saint said once the door was safely secured behind us.

“No. I thinkyou’refunny.”

“I saw you step between me and that woman’s gun. Never put yourself in danger like that again. You’re not my bodyguard.”

Were those…feelings? For me?

“I was pretty sure she wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Still.”

“Don’t think I was being altruistic. If you got shot, it would be my job to take care of you. No offense, but you’d be a terrible patient.”

He grunted. “Office or bar?” he asked the birthday boy.

“Bar,” Rush said without hesitation, before heading deeper into the building.

Saint twisted my arm behind my back and marched me to the bar as though I might try to escape again with the three of them already on high alert.

“Let me go! I wasn’t really trying to get away.”

“You’ll understand if I don’t take that statement at face value.”

Rush returned with a handful of diaphanous fabric, and I quailed.

---