I smile. “Hey. How’re you today?”
His expression changes from indeterminate emotion to mad as hell in point-zero-seven seconds. “Are you Ronnie Fitz?”
All the warm and fuzzies I’ve collected all morning scatter like so much dandelion fluff in the harsh, freezing wind coming off this guy’s glare.
I stand, backing up a step. “Yes. Can I help you?”
Shay pushes her seat back and rises as well.
The man steps closer, pushing the table into my legs, and his voice booms. “You bitch. My Sara left me after she read your book.”
My eyes widen. Shay’s hand finds my back, steady and calming.
I square my shoulders. “Sir. I’m so sorry that happened to you, but I’m not sure what you want me to do.”
“She said something about seeing how I’d never be a good partner for her.” He grabs the edges of my table and flips it, sending books, pens, and the rest of the paraphernalia fluttering to the floor.
The world stops. A hush falls over the room.
The man takes another step, reaching for me. I freeze. Shay’s fingers dig into my back.
A hand clamps down on the man’s shoulder as Jackson says, “Sir. I suggest you back the fuck off.”
The man turns, his fist flying right in front of my face. I throw my arms around his bicep. He stops, and his crazed eyes find me.
“What the hell?” He shakes me loose.
Jackson draws back and coldcocks the guy in the jaw. The man stumbles. He falls. I push against his shoulder as he slumps into me. He’s bigger than he looks. More than I can hold up.
Shit.
I trip backward into Shay. We end up in a heap on the floor.
Jack shakes out his hand as he jumps over the guy’s legs and grabs his wrist. “Ronnie, you okay?”
“Just get him off of me.”
The man’s bulk is deadweight on my legs. His head lolls to the side as Jackson drags him off of us.
The crowd erupts in applause, and several people either take pictures—or maybe they’re filming this mess.
Great.
“C’mon.” Jack pulls me to my feet, calling over his shoulder, “Someone get security.”
Shay pops up like she’s on springs. “That was crazy.”
Jackson pulls me into his arms, his hand covering the back of my head. “What were you thinking, grabbing hold of him like that?”
“I don’t know. It was a reaction when I saw him turn to hit you.” A shiver runs through me.
He sweeps my curls aside, pushing my head back, and looking at my forehead. “You sure your head’s all right?”
I nod.
He lays a lingering kiss at my temple. “Silly woman, I can take a punch. What was all that about anyway?”
The crowd stares, so I pull out of Jack’s embrace, brushing my slacks as though they’re covered in dirt. “I guess someone named Sara read chapter fourteen, Traits Make the Man, and decided he wasn’t the right choice for her. Apparently it was my fault that she found him lacking.”
Jackson picks up my table and sets it right. “Must’ve been one helluva chapter.”
I roll and unroll the gossip rag. Less than twenty-four hours. Man, the rumor mill sure doesn’t waste any time. I get out of the car.
When Ronnie answers the door, she’s wearing some sort of yoga get-up. Her nipples poke out under the thin fabric of her top. The heat that’s been simmering barely under the surface since I last saw her stokes into a low boil.
I tweak the tempting pebble.
She smacks at my hand with a grin. “Hey. What are you doing here? You didn’t call.”
I close the door and lean against it, holding out the paper to her. “Here; I figured I may as well be the one to break the news.”
Ronnie reaches, but pulls back before she takes it, eyeing it like it might bite.
I hold it up, letting it unroll. A large photo of me clocking the douche at the bookstore with her hanging onto his arm in the background takes up almost the entire cover. A smaller thumbnail picture of me holding her close, her head tucked against my shoulder, is off to the side. The headline reads, Jackson Tremaine, Knight in Shining Armor.
I shrug. “Probably not a huge problem. But it might be best for us to avoid being seen together, or speculation will grow.”
She gives me side eyes. “And our little bet won’t work?”
I nod. “Exactly.”
She turns on her heel and heads down the hall. “I hate that bet—just so you know.”
I jog after her. “Hey. It could be worse. I mean, it’s bound to help you sell some books.”
She stops and whirls around to face me. “Or it can sink my career when I lose. You’ve seen Shay. How do I possibly stand a chance going up against her?”