It Had to Be Him(25)
Josh staggered back a step but remained standing.
Her dad assumed a boxer’s pose. “Come on, boy. Let’s see what you do with someone closer to your own size.”
Josh left his arms at his sides as blood trickled from his nose. “I’m not going to fight with someone your age, sir. I might hurt you.”
That had to be about the worst thing anyone could say to her father. Meg moved in front of Josh again and held her palms up. “Stop! No more hitting. Let’s discuss this like—”
Because she didn’t even come up to Josh’s shoulder, she didn’t have to duck when her father’s fist connected with Josh’s eye this time. Josh held his ground. Now blood gushed from his nose, and his eye was going to be sporting a whopper of a bruise in the morning.
Her father, red-faced and breathing hard, spat out, “What are you? Some kind of pansy-ass who doesn’t know how to defend himself? Hit me back!”
Meg spotted Ryan approaching. After he joined them, he crossed his arms. “Hit him back, Granger, so we can be done with this.”
Josh shook his head. “I’m not hitting Megan’s father.”
Meg whirled on Ryan. “What kind of sheriff are you? You’re supposed to be breaking this up. Not egging it on!”
Ryan shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets.
This wasn’t going to end well, so she grabbed the gun from Ryan’s holster, flipped the safety, and shot a round into a nearby trash can. The loud explosion stopped the fighting and had all the men staring at her like she’d lost her mind.
She turned to her dad and Ryan. “You both told me I needed to handle my own problems, so back off. I don’t need your help!”
Josh sighed, then wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand. “Let’s go, Meg.”
She must’ve said something right, because her father and Ryan stood with crossed arms and scowls on their faces as they let Josh tug her toward his truck.
Ryan called out, “I need the gun, Muck!”
Josh beeped the locks open on his truck, then said, “Flip the safety, Meg.”
“It’s already on.”
He yanked the gun from her, then laid it on the pavement before he handed her up into the front seat of his truck and followed behind. “None of you Anderson Butte crazies should be allowed to own guns.” He slammed the door and started the engine. “Did your brother call you Muck?”
Ignoring the question, she found some napkins in the glove box, then scooted over to dab at his bloody face. “I wasn’t going to shoot anyone any more than you were going to hit my father, and everyone knew it. It was just the easiest way to cut through all the testosterone back there.”
She wouldn’t tell him, but she was grateful Josh hadn’t stooped to her father’s level and hit him back. “Where’s your BMW?”
Josh took the napkins from her and pressed them harder against his nose to stop the bleeding. “Traded it in for this. Will you have dinner with me?”
“No! And no more kissing.” She moved back to her side and crossed her arms.
“I liked the kissing. So did you.”
Yeah, she’d liked the kissing, but that was the last thing she needed. It was so not happening again. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”
He parked in front of the hotel. They both got out and headed toward the lobby doors. Josh’s hand slipped around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Could we make kissing part of our deal?”
Before she could tell him no, Casey looked up from the front desk. When her eyes took in Josh’s hand on Meg’s shoulder, her right brow arched. “What happened to you, Granger?”
“He finally met Dad.” Megan slipped out of Josh’s embrace and led the way toward the kitchen to find him an ice pack.
She poked at the swinging door and then pointed at a stool by the granite island for Josh to sit on. Digging through the freezer, she found a bag of peas. “Most guys would have been long gone after being shot. Now we can add being punched in the face too. My dad will make your life here a living hell. You should just leave now, Josh.”
He smiled at her as she ran her hand through his soft hair, sweeping it back from his forehead before she placed the bag across his swollen eye and nose.
“Nope. I’m sticking this time. Made the ‘running’ mistake once before.”
As she held the bag against his battered face, his hands moved to her hips and he pulled her so close the peas cooled her cheek as his breath heated her lips. Was he going to kiss her again? Her former bad-girl self hoped so.
Her new sensible self told her to run.
He whispered, “Here’s another fun Megan fact: your favorite football team is not the Denver Broncos like it should be, but the Green Bay Packers because you think their quarterback is hot.”