Forbidden Harmony (Harmony Falls #3) - Elizabeth Kelly Page 0,135
strode across the pub, people automatically stepping out of his way. The don’t fuck with me look on his face worked great as a people deterrent. Just before he reached the door, his steps slowed, the jostling and shouting to his left drawing his attention.
He watched the two men shout and shove at each other before, with a harsh sigh, walking toward them. The idiot was gonna get himself fucking killed, or at the very least have his ass handed to him on a fucking tray.
Just as he reached them, the bigger man cocked his hand back to throw a punch. Preacher caught him by the wrist, grinning at the man when he whipped around and glared at him. “What the fuck do you…”
The man trailed off. He was big, at least 6’3”, but whether it was the grin on Preacher’s face or the aforementioned don’t fuck with me vibe, he didn’t try and do something extraordinarily stupid like punch Preacher.
“There a problem here?” Preacher said.
“This asshole insulted me and my friend,” the man said.
“The fuck I did,” the smaller man said. “It’s not my fault you stink like beef and cheese, and your friend looks like Captain Kangaroo on a bender.”
“Shut up, Daniel,” Preacher said without looking at Addison’s brother. He squeezed the bigger man’s wrist before dropping it. “The idiot’s drunk. Walk away, brother.”
“He needs to be taught a lesson,” the man said. “His fucking mouth is gonna get him in some real trouble some day.”
“You think you’re the one to teach it to me, you smelly little leprechaun?” Daniel taunted. “I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll be tasting my fucking boot in your throat.”
The man surged forward. Preacher shoved his way between them, pushing the man back. “Get the fuck outta here.”
“What are you, his fucking boyfriend?” the man spat.
“I said leave. Now,” Preacher said. He grabbed Daniel’s arm, squeezing it hard when he tried to move past Preacher. “Keep your fucking mouth shut, Daniel.”
When the man continued to stand there, his chest puffed out like an angry raccoon, and his nostrils flaring, Preacher said, “Walk away, asshole. Last chance.”
“You’re lucky your boyfriend showed up, you fucking dickhead,” the man said to Daniel.
Daniel flipped him the bird and laughed, swaying on his feet as the man and his friends walked away. “Nice, Preacher. Pound it, baby.”
He held his fist out to Preacher. Preacher ignored it and, still holding Daniel by the arm, started toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not done my fucking beer,” Daniel slurred. “Preacher, lemme go.”
“Move,” Preacher said. He half dragged, half-carried Daniel out into the warm night air.
Daniel slung his arm around Preacher’s shoulders and grinned up at him. “Hey, who’s the firefighter here? I should be carrying you.”
Preacher rolled his eyes as Daniel said, “Can you give me a ride home, man? I’ve had a bit too much to drink and shouldn’t drive.”
“Like you could even stay on my fucking bike,” Preacher said. “Give me your keys.”
Daniel handed him his keys. “It’s the red truck over there.”
Sighing, Preacher headed toward the truck, dragging Daniel with him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Where the fuck is your housekey?” Preacher said. He had leaned Daniel against the house, and he prodded him in the chest. “Daniel, wake up.”
Daniel cracked open one eye. “Wha? Whassup?”
“Where’s your housekey? None of these keys are working.”
Daniel squinted at the house. “Wha’ the fuck? This ain’t my house, man.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? This is the address you gave me,” Preacher said.
“Nah, couldn’t be. This isn’t my house, this is my -”
The porch light turned on, nearly blinding Preacher, and Daniel lifted his hand to block the light. “Jesus, turn down the sun, would ya?”
The front door opened, and Preacher stared at the auburn-haired woman standing in the doorway in a silk robe. “Oh, Daniel,” she said.
“Hey, Ma.” Daniel waved at her. “What’s happening? You got any toast. I’m hungry.”
She sighed and stepped back. “Can you bring him inside?”
Preacher hesitated before helping Daniel into the house. He leaned Daniel against the wall as a man came down the stairs, belting a robe around his waist. “Belinda, who is… Daniel, is that you, son?”
“Hey, Dad!” Daniel stumbled forward, laughing when his Dad caught him around the waist. “You wanna make me some toast?”
His dad brushed the hair out of Daniel’s eyes. “Son, you’re drunk.”
“Nah, just a little tipsy.”
His father slid his arm around his waist. “C’mon, kid, let’s get you into the bed in the spare room.”