Time to go.
Then movement catches my eye.
It’s some guy.
Tall. Broad. Square jaw. Clean-cut in a way that immediately pisses me off for no logical reason.
He walks into the shop like he owns the place.
Something in my gut twists.
I sit up straighter.
I watch.
Hilary approaches him.
Polite. Professional. But she’s annoyed.
I can tell.
And that puts me on edge. She shouldn’t have to be annoyed. Not in her place of business.
Not at all, in my not so humble opinion.
Then she steps away from him. Dismissing him.
And this prick grabs her elbow.
Everything in me snaps.
My vision goes red.
Hot.
Instant.
I’m out of the car before my brain catches up.
Door slams.
I cross the street fast, barely registering anything except that his hand is still on her.
This is so not happening on my watch. No way.
Not fucking happening.
Anger and rage I haven’t felt in years slither through my veins. Emotions I’ve been numb to come rushing back like a fucking tide and I can’t stop it.
It’s wrong. Baseless. She is not mine to protect. I got nothing to do with her—and yet, his hand on her arm—it’s making me seethe.
And there is no way I’m letting this prick manhandle her.
The bell over the shop door slams open as I push inside.
And yeah.
I’ve seen enough.