SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,33
moved north, south, east, or west to over-reveal.
Oh, who was she kidding, the swimsuit was one over-reveal from top to bottoms.
She began to limp away.
A hard hand grabbed her elbow. “Stay and party with us.” Dog-boy.
“Yeah.” The second annoying youngster moved in to press close to her other side.
“Excuse me?” Harper looked down her nose at them—even though they were taller—and yanked her arm free.
It was caught again. “Party with us. We have booze, fried chicken—”
“Booze.”
Dog-boy shot a look at his friend. “I said that.” Then he slid his hand from her elbow up her arm, his knuckles grazing the side of her breast. “Stay, beautiful.”
She edged away, every feminine instinct standing on end along with the hairs on the nape of her neck. “I’m expected somewhere.” She gestured vaguely. “Another party.”
“We’re more fun,” they said together.
Great. The Doublemint twins. Her hand hit her flank, seeking a cell phone that couldn’t be stowed in this stupid, stupid suit. She would never go out pocket-less again. “Guys, I’ve got people expecting me.”
This time when she tried an escape, they only crowded closer. “We need a new friend,” one said.
Shit. Shitheads. It hit her that they were not completely sober and not just buzzed on those couple of beers either.
Shit. Shithead. This time she meant herself. Though not her fault, this was a predicament that she’d landed in and she should have moved quicker to get herself out of it.
“Friendship. What an offer.” With a smile that every woman on earth had been forced to paste onto her face at least once, she began rear stepping, putting space between herself and her eager swains. “But I have enough friends, thanks.”
“We need a lady,” Dog-boy said to his companion. “We need this lady.”
Harper sped up her retreat. “Uh, no.”
Then Companion lunged for her. Her breath caught in her throat and she leaped backward, tripping again, this time on a mound of kelp, and fell onto the sand once more, butt-first. The swains loomed and Harper’s pulse went into overdrive. “Listen, boys,” she said, her voice sounded too high to her own ears. “I—”
“What the hell is going on?” a new voice roared.
Her growing concern—okay, fear—instantly subsided as Mad pushed the strangers out of the way, putting himself between her and them.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
Because she could breathe again, she tried erasing incipient panic from her face. “I’m fine. I have everything under control. I don’t need you.”
“Yeah, man. She’s partying with us,” Dog-boy added.
Mad glanced over his shoulder. The young guys should have withered to the size of sand fleas. “Harp, with me.”
“I’m not with you,” she said, and immediately felt stupid for the knee-jerk retort.
Companion puffed up. “See? She’s with us.”
Mad snorted, turning just as Dog-boy let fly a fist.
The scrawny kid didn’t pack much of a punch, but the blow still hurt as it bounced off Mad’s cheekbone. The kid danced back, fists under his chin, while his smarter buddy backed farther away.
“Hey, hey,” he said to his friend. “Chill out.”
“Yeah, chill out,” Mad said and reached down to assist Harper. “Let’s get you up.”
She put her hand in his and allowed him to haul her to standing, then he noticed her wince when she put weight on one of her feet. Frowning, he took a longer look. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, and crossed her arms over her belly. “I’m fine.”
“What about me?” the scrawny pest asked.
Mad threw him a look over his shoulder. “What about you…what?”
“Do I need to hit you again?”
Of all the emotions churning in his gut, he didn’t need to add a desire to laugh to the mix. “Listen up,” he growled. “Another word and I’ll deck you.”
“Word.”
“Really?” Mad sighed, then cast his gaze to the sky.
Completely missing the scrawny dude’s next swing.
“Fuck.” He shoved the wannabe opponent to the ground, his cheekbone smarting again. “Stay there.”
“Good advice,” a new voice said.
Mad looked up to see a handful of his friends striding up. “What’s going on, Boone?”
“We came looking for our resident cop because Geoff’s car got messed with,” the big man said, gesturing to one of the other men. “And now your face, I guess.”
Fuck. Mad put tentative fingertips to his cheek. Swelling. Poker night was going to be a bitch the next couple weeks. Months.
“You let this little snotnose get the drop on you?” Shane asked.
Not just poker night, apparently.
He shook his head, then addressed Geoff, who’d left the group to poke around the campsite. Mad walked his way. “Your car?”