Logan slipped from my grasp before I could even snatch hold of his arm again. He was across the lobby in quick strides and struck Harris in the nose.
Harris flew back into the hostess stand. He shook his head as though to clear it and then charged Logan, wrapping his arms around him and tackling him to the floor.
They went down with a crash on the floor, limbs flailing, fists connecting. The terrible sound of bone on bone filled the air. The hostess screamed.
I danced around them, trying to look for a way to separate the two of them, but they were a tangle. Logan landed more hits, but Harris wouldn’t give up. Somehow they managed to get on their feet again. Locked together, they rammed into a wall, rattling pictures depicting the Tuscan countryside. The hostess danced around them, screaming for them to stop.
I grabbed Harris’s shoulder. “Harris, stop it!”
He twisted halfway and gave me a push that sent me careening into the wall. I slipped down to the ground, a frame falling with me, shattering glass everywhere.
Logan shouted my name and rushed to my side, both hands gently closing on my arms as he lifted me to my feet.
“Georgia! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” My voice trembled past my lips, a warble on the air. My hands shook.
Logan frowned, his forehead knitting with concern. He didn’t see the sucker punch coming, but I screamed as Harris’s fist connected with his cheek.
Logan slammed into the wall and I forgot all about my fall and shaking limbs. I attacked, jumping on Harris like a monkey. I clawed his face, leaving bloody scratches. I didn’t stop there, raining my fists on any part of him I could reach. Face, shoulders, chest.
I was still cursing him when Logan peeled me off. Gasping, I looked around. The lobby was suddenly full. Waitstaff, gawking restaurant goers. And two uniformed Muskogee police officers, their steel-eyed gazes fixed on me.
Chapter 23
ARRESTED FOR THE SECOND time in less than two weeks. That had to be some kind of record. Of course, I wasn’t alone in that ignominious distinction. Logan was with me. We sat side by side, hands handcuffed behind us on a bench inside the county sheriff’s office, and shared a smile. He shook his head at me and leaned in to press a kiss on my lips, forgetting about his bottom busted lip. He hissed.
“Oh, baby.” I pressed a tiny butterfly kiss to his mouth.
He chuckled against my mouth. “Remind me to bring you to my next bar brawl, tiger.”
Harris made a sound of disgust and leaned back on his bench across from us, beating his head on the brick wall. He was handcuffed, too, but they made a point to put distance between us. I didn’t care if he was watching though. I didn’t care that I was arrested. I was happy.
Deputy Milo Henderson was my second cousin. He’d grown up with my mother, and besides seeing him around town all my life, I saw him every Easter at Aunt Charlene’s. He pushed through the swinging doors and I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to explain everything that had happened. And then my mother and father followed, entering the room behind him. Of course he had called them.
Logan must have heard my swift intake of breath. “Georgia?”
I sent him a reassuring glance and rose to my feet. “Mom—”
“Georgia!” She pushed past Milo. After sweeping me with her stare, presumably to assure herself that I was all right, she flicked her gaze back and forth between Logan and Harris. Her lip curled as she assessed Logan. He was sporting an angry split lip with one black eye. He’d never looked hotter. Or more dangerous.
My father turned to Milo, motioning to me. “Are the handcuffs necessary?