Page 9 of Daddy's Heart

Her eyes scan the crowd. She’s nervous. Excited. She’s holding a drink she’s not even sipping. When someone calls her name, she blushes and tries to play it off, but her feet are already moving.

She’s gonna sing.

My chest tightens.

She steps up on that stage. Small. Brave. Gripping the mic like it might anchor her.

Then she opens her mouth, and the world tilts.

It’s not polished. It’s not rehearsed. But hell, it doesn’t need to be. Her voice is raw honey—smooth, aching, and soaked in something I shouldn’t hear in public. My hand clenches the edge of the table to keep myself from storming up there and throwing her over my shoulder.

Men are watching. I can feel their stares, their thoughts, and it makes something old and animal twist in my gut.

Then some asshole makes it worse.

"Big girl’s got lungs, huh? Wonder what else she’s got."

Quiet. But not quiet enough.

I’m already rising when she beats me to it.

She turns and launches her drink with perfect, furious aim. Ice and gin spray across the guy’s chest. He lurches up, red and pissed.

"Watch it, bitch."

I move.

Logan’s getting up, but I’m faster. One fist in the guy’s collar, I shove him against the wall before he knows what hit him.

"Say it again," I growl. "I fuckin’ dare you."

He puffs his chest like he wants to square up, and I meet him head-on. My forearm slams into his throat, pinning him to the wall hard enough to rattle the photos nailed behind him.

"You just disrespected a woman in front of a sheriff, you dumb bastard," I grit out, close enough he can smell the fury coming off me. "Want to see what happens next?"

He grunts, tries to shove me off—bad fucking idea. I yank his arm behind his back and twist until he lets out a sharp yell. The room drops to a hush, everyone frozen like they’re watching a live-action barroom brawl on pay-per-view.

"Still think you're tough? Keep talking. I’ll cuff you and carry you out over my shoulder."

I jerk his wallet from his back pocket and toss it to my deputy, who’s staring at me open-mouthed.

"Run him."

"Colt—" Emery’s voice cuts through the haze. Tight. Breathing fast.

I look at her. She’s flushed, shaking, still lit up from the stage.

"Out. Now."

She freezes, still breathing hard, her eyes flaring with defiance. I see the fire in her, the part that wants to push me, test how far she can go.

"Don’t," I say, dropping the guy and leaving him to my deputy as I step toward her, my voice a warning wrapped in steel. "Don’t make me arrest you too, baby girl. Because I won’t be nice about it. I won’t cuff you gently, and I sure as hell won’t let you forget how it feels."

“Arrest me forwhat?” she demands, defiance flaring in her eyes, and goddamn it if that hint of the brat underneath doesn’t make my cock swell.

“Assault,” I say, glancing at the fucker giving my deputy a hard time, along with a buddy who’s clearly had one glass too many. Deputy Gerrard might not look like much, but they cause him any trouble they’re going to find out real quick how well he handles a situation. I turn back to Emery. “Can’t go tossing drinks at people in my town, babygirl.”

That hits. She swallows hard. Her chin tips up like she’s about to throw something back—then she catches my eyes again and thinks better of it. Turns on her heel and storms toward the door, hips swinging like a dare.

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