Page 28 of Defensive Desire

"For her. For what she deserves." I stare at the floor. "Emma's... she's got this light. This energy. She makes people feel welcome, makes them want to be better. And I'm just..."

"What? A professional athlete? A guy with a big heart that's been alone for too long he's ready to treasure any woman who takes the time to really get to know him?" Blake's voice carries a hint of amusement. "Yeah, real loser territory there."

"I'm serious."

"So are we." Connor crosses his arms. "You want to know what I see? I see a guy who shows up. Who takes care of people without being asked. Who makes Emma smile in a way I've never seen before. Lucy won't shut up about you two, man."

My chest tightens at his words.

Blake nods. "She's different when you're around. Brighter. More confident."

"And you're different too," Connor adds. "Less of a grumpy bastard. Well, marginally less."

Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips. "Fuck off."

"There he is," Connor grins and pokes me in the ribs. "Look, all I'm saying is maybe stop overthinking it. Go out there, make sure she's okay. Just see what happens."

Blake pushes off the wall. "Or don't. Keep running. See how that works out for you."

They both head for the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sounds of the festival filtering through the thin walls.

Make sure she's okay.

Christ. What if she's been standing there alone, wondering why I ditched her like some teenage asshole?

I splash more cold water on my face, but it doesn't help with the heat coursing through my veins. The memory of how she felt when I guided her hand at the ring toss, how she fit perfectly against my chest...

Get it together, dipshit. She needs you out there.

When I finally leave the bathroom, the afternoon sun feels too bright, the noise of the festival too loud.

I scan the crowd, searching for auburn hair and that smile that does things to my chest.

I find her at her booth, but she's not alone.

That car dealer from the town over is leaning way too close to Emma as she tries to pack up her samples. Her body language is all wrong, shoulders tense, smile forced.

The protective instinct that lives in my bones flares to life.

I'm moving before I fully process it, cutting through the crowd with purpose. The sleazy guy has got his hand on the table now,blocking Emma's space as he talks, voice too loud and way too cocky.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just one drink. I promise I'm more interesting than hockey players."

Emma takes a step back, clutching her sample tray like a shield. "I really need to finish packing up—"

"The booth can wait." He moves closer, and that's when I see red.

I don't run this time. I don't hesitate.

My hand lands heavy on his shoulder, my fingers digging in hard enough to make him audibly whimper like the piece of shit he is.

He spins around, eyes widening when he sees who's behind him.

"I believe the lady said she's busy." My voice comes out low, dangerous. The same tone I use on the ice right before dropping gloves.

The pathetic guy straightens, trying to look tough with his pale face and patchy stubble. "We were just talking."

"Yeah, well. The conversation's over." I step between him and Emma, my body forming a wall he'd have to go through to get to her.

---