It's Definitely Not You - Abby Brooks Page 0,7

stepped into the house.

“Why?” Maxine shut the door and moved toward the kitchen. “You want me to show you some of my moves?”

Chapter Four

Kennedy

A strange truck hunkered in Nan’s driveway. My heart wrung its hands as my brain flipped through a camera roll of all trucks seen in the recent past, then held up a picture of Captain Asshole climbing into a suspiciously similar vehicle after I scared him off the day before.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I pulled in behind him, effectively blocking his escape. Anxiety hummed a warning as I scanned the yard, then sounded a level ten alarm as my attention climbed up the stairs to the front porch.

Nan’s door hung open, revealing a gaping maw of the darkened interior.

With my phone in my hand and my heart in my throat, I killed the engine and barreled toward the house. A melodic bong, bong, bong coming from inside the Honda scolded me for not shutting the door.

Delores lifted a hand from her station on the porch. “He’s worth the rush! I promise!”

Ignoring her, I cleared the stairs leading up to the porch in one large step, congratulating myself on missing the screecher, then burst through the open entry.

Sounds of a struggle emanated from deeper in the house.

A masculine voice murmured something dark and sinister, and Nan loosed a breathy grunt.

“Not the throat.”

Her words were low.

Tight.

I imagined that asshole with his hands around her neck, squeezing the life out of my poor, defenseless grandmother. The kitchen table grated against tile. Something crashed to the floor.

“Nan!” I sprinted toward the ruckus.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, my worst fears came true. Captain Asshole had her in a headlock, his thick forearm wrapped around her delicate throat. “Is this where you want it?” he rasped, breathless from effort. My Nan was a tough old bird, bless her heart. She’d put up quite a fight, but he was bigger. Stronger. Younger.

His eyes caught mine and he stilled, releasing his grip on Nana Maxine, whose hands flew to his wrist and yanked his arm back into place.

Lack of oxygen had taken its toll. Poor thing was confused.

I barreled toward them, cocked back a fist, and clocked the asshole in the mouth. Pain exploded across my knuckles and I cursed louder than he did as I grabbed Nan and pulled her to safety.

“It’s okay.” I grimaced, shaking my hand as her attacker groaned and covered his lips. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

I staggered as she pushed out of my arms.

“Kennedy Reagan Monroe!” Nan put her hands on her hips and dropped her jaw. “What on earth has gotten into you?” She turned to Captain Asshole and crossed the kitchen, gingerly inspecting his mouth as if he was her favorite grandchild.

“I thought—”

“You thought what? That you’d barge in here and attack my guest?”

The man stuck his tongue in his lip. His eyes hit mine and sparks shot forth. “You.” The word was part realization, part accusation, and one-hundred percent loathing.

He was even better looking up close, if you went for luscious dark hair, glittering blue eyes, and criminal intent. His personality stole the air from the room, and he’d only said one word. Which apparently my vagina found compelling. News to me, but, oh well.

Nan ping-ponged her attention between us. “I take it you two know each other?”

“If you consider her threatening to pepper spray me then following it up with a righteous right hook knowing each other, then yes. We’re well acquainted.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t loiter around old women’s houses like a walking criminal enterprise.”

“Kennedy! That is enough. Apologize to Joe this instant.”

Joe.

I expected something more along the lines of Damion.

Or Malachi.

Or Satan.

Captain Asshole didn’t look like a Joe. Not at all. Though I wasn’t exactly sure what I thought a Joe should look like.

An apology was warranted, I just couldn’t bring myself to give it. I winced at his swelling lip, then reached into the freezer for a bag of peas and tossed them his way. He caught them with a crinkle of plastic, smirked, then pressed the bag to his face. I’d taken an oath to heal people, not hurt them, though there had to be a clause in there for assholes who deserved to get clocked in the mouth.

Nan gave me a withering look. “My granddaughter is very sorry for punching you.”

“I saw him skulking around here yesterday. Then when I pulled up today and saw his truck in the driveway and your front door hanging open…I