Backup Plan - Emily Goodwin Page 0,42

drink since I’m pretty sure Lauren slobbered all over his beer.

“Calling him that is an insult to Clint. And I don’t need saving,” I retort and push my shoulders back, offering Cowboy a smile before bringing my drink to my lips.

“Hey,” Cowboy starts, stopping at my table. “Did it hurt?”

“Excuse me?” I ask and take a sip of my Dirty Shirley.

“Did it hurt?” he repeats. “When you fell from Heaven?”

Sam snorts, and I do my best not to spit out my drink as I chortle from his over the top cheesy and cliché pick-up line. Carefully setting my drink back on the table, I smile sweetly as I look up at Cowboy.

“Not at all,” I tell him. “Because I clawed my way out of the bowels of Hell.”

Sam stifles a laugh again, and Cowboy is taken aback for a few seconds before laughing as he hooks his thumb through his belt loop.

“Feisty,” he goes on. “I like it.” Wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m Dillan.”

“Kellie,” I say, using the name of my main character.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kellie,” Dillan says, stepping into the space between Sam and myself. He’s a little too close for comfort, and his cologne is sickly strong. “You want a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” I hold up my drink.

“Chug that one and I’ll get you something stronger.” He winks, and I’m not sure what to take away from that. He’s being…generous? No, I don’t like a stranger coming over here and telling me to chug my drink. Because we all know there’s only one reason he’s wanting to get me drunk.

“Want to get something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” I smile politely again and take another sip of my drink just so I don’t have to talk.

Dillan leans in. “Want to get out of here?”

“No,” I say pointedly, and Dillan leans back, offended.

“Seriously?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Prude,” he huffs.

Sam straightens up. “What did you just call her?”

“It’s none of your damn business,” Dillan huffs, looking Sam up and down. Yeah…good luck winning that fight, buddy. “It’s between me and the lady.”

“And I believe the lady isn’t interested.”

My heart swells a bit in my chest as I watch Sam defend me. If this were a rom-com, he’d punch Dillan, who’d fall dramatically to the floor, and then grab me, kissing me passionately while sappy music starts to play as the camera pans out.

But life isn’t like a movie, and me of all people should know that. You’re in a constant state of filler scenes, with a happy-for-now sprinkled in here and there. And the cold hard truth is how life goes on past the ending if you’re lucky enough to get a happy one, and what once made you smile can cause you to fall apart.

“Maybe the lady should tell me herself,” Dillan tries, and turns back to me, putting one hand on the bar, leaning just inches from my face. He’s drunk, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Come on, let’s get out here.”

“I said no,” I reaffirm. “Now leave me alone.”

Dillan hesitates, still hovering over me, and that’s all it takes for Sam to grab his shoulder and jerk him back. Dillan immediately takes a swing at Sam, who catches his fist. Not wanting to start a fight, Sam lets him go and pushes him back, but Dillan comes back, both fists in the air. Everything happens so fast, and the next thing I know, my drink is spilled in my lap, Sam blocks another punch and takes hold of Dillan’s arm, twisting it behind him. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was impressed. No one has gotten in a real fight over me before like this, and Dillan picked the wrong guy to mess with. Sam could easily beat his ass—and he would if it came down to it.

In a flash, Mason is there, holding up his badge. “Get out before I arrest you,” he tells Dillan, who’s squinting at Mason’s badge.

“You’re not a real cop.”

“I’m a fucking federal agent.” Mason pulls the guy away. “Still wanna test me?”

Dillan grumps and walks away, hooking his thumb through a belt loop again.

“You okay?” Sam asks, grabbing a napkin for me to sop up my wet dress.

“Yeah. Thank you.” I press the napkin to my lap.

“Of course. No one messes with you.”

I look up and he diverts his eyes, confusing me. A few awkward seconds tick by.

“The table is open now,” I say, thankful for a distraction.

“Finally,” Mason says. “I’m fucking starving. You’re joining us, right,