tightened her grip on the coffeepot. She’d left bartending for this reason. Give a man alcohol and he was convinced he was the World’s Sexiest Man capable of taking what he wanted at the same time.
Removing alcohol had made confrontations like this a lot less common.
That didn’t mean she’d forgotten how to make a weapon out of whatever was at hand, though.
“I’d like to be a new friend,” he said as he leaned forward. “Besides, heard him say something about somebody stealing your boyfriend. Now, if you can give me her number, I’ll go away. Any woman who could take a man from a looker like you must be the stuff of legends.” He grabbed her wrist as Christina moved to leave.
No matter how she turned her hand, she couldn’t twist free. Setting down the coffeepot to claw at his fingers would leave her with nothing but her pencil as a weapon.
Determined not to cause a brawl at this job, Christina said, “While I do appreciate the kindness, sir, I’ve got to get back to work.” And if I shove my pencil in your eye, I will probably lose this job.
“Feisty.” The guy tilted his head to the side. “Woman like you, dressed like that. Can’t imagine you ain’t in the market for something.” There was no doubt in Christina’s mind that her hot-pink shirt and tight jeans were gone in his mind.
Before she could swing the coffeepot or make a stab with her pencil, Woody eased off his stool, hitched up his belt and said, “You need help, Chrissy?”
The last thing she needed was for Woody to wade into this mess. She didn’t want his injuries on her conscience, and she couldn’t afford a bill for repairs.
Christina moved to set the coffeepot down on the guy’s arm and jerked away as soon as he let go of her arm.
“Oh my. I almost got you.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe how clumsy she was. “I do apologize.” Should she offer to cover his breakfast in order to get him out of there?
What would she do if he returned when the crowd thinned?
Call the cops before his backside hit the wooden seat, that’s what. Being nice as a solution didn’t get more than one shot.
When the guy stood up, she and Woody both shrank back a step. He was big. Of course he was. What rule of nature made it necessary for the biggest animal on the food chain to be the one with the fewest redeeming qualities?
Armed with her coffeepot in one hand and her pencil in the other, Christina squared off. “You go ahead and leave, mister. I’ve got your ticket covered.”
She would much rather lose the ten dollars than the job. And if the guy did come back, she’d gladly shut him down and kiss the diner goodbye. In the meantime, she was no one’s victim. Not anymore.
Before the guy could make up his mind whether to throw his weight around some more or skip out on his bill and count himself lucky, the door to the restaurant opened and the park’s head law enforcement ranger, Brett Hendrix, stepped in.
The relief that swept over her was immediate, yet enraging. He had the same golden glow he’d had as he sauntered the halls of Sweetwater High, everyone’s friend and role model. Why couldn’t he have gained forty pounds and lost all but forty strands of hair? Probably wouldn’t matter. He inspired trust and that would always be attractive.
They must have appeared as if frozen, caught in the instant before chairs started flying, punches were thrown and someone howled in pain, because Brett braced both hands on his belt, his gun holstered but within easy reach, and said, “Oh good. I made it in time for the brawl. I hate to miss the first minute because then I can never follow the rest of the story.”
Christina didn’t exactly relax, because Leanne’s ex was no fan of hers, but he knew right from wrong and never wavered from it.
Brett Hendrix believed there was no gray area when it came to life’s challenges, only seeing things as either totally black or white. It made life hard for those living in mostly those gray areas, especially for Christina. She knew he was a loving father, but she wanted to help her friend, too.
It was easy to hate him for all that, but right now, watching her would-be stalker fold before her eyes, Brett’s presence warmed a tiny corner of her cold heart.
Even better, faced with a park ranger in his officially official flat hat and everything, the guy yanked a twenty from his wallet, dropped the money on the table and stomped out.
Not only did she not have to cover his tab, but he’d left her the best tip of the day.
Christina couldn’t help the grin that slowly turned up her lips as she shoved her pencil back in her ponytail. “My hero.”
She waved the twenty-dollar bill and check at Woody. “You, too, darling.” His thin chest puffed out as if he’d done something besides stand behind her and bluster, but that was okay. Any thoughts of complaining about his cold breakfast and indifferent service were gone.
“What can I get you, Ranger?” Christina asked as she sashayed back behind the counter. She tried to always sashay when Brett was around. It made his scowl darker.
“First, tell me what that was.” He stared hard at the door.
“You know, one more guy who wants to hassle me,” Christina replied as she noticed Woody glued to the conversation. “New guy, so there was some excitement. All the others have learned where the boundary is.” She smiled at Brett.
“Business as usual, then,” Brett said with a nod. “Two coffees, two slices of pecan pie, to go.”
Christina saluted and turned to box up his order, happy to have her routine restored to calm the jitters.
The weight of Brett’s disapproving stare rattled her again, but it was familiar at least. When his phone rang and he turned away to answer it, Christina managed to catch her breath. As soon as Brett was on his way, she might even take Woody up on his offer of a ride home.
And if that didn’t illustrate how bad things were, that Christina Braswell was about to ask for help, she’d eat the pencil she’d been prepared to wield like a spear.
OBVIOUSLY THIS WAS going to be the Mondayest Monday of all Mondays. Brett had started the morning with a disaster before moving directly into a showdown and followed that up with a yelling match.
All before leaving the house.
In about two minutes, he’d be late for the meeting his boss, Ash Kingfisher, had called. Since he was at least ten minutes away from the ranger station at this point, he needed to come up with a logical excuse.
Any nature reserve staff who’d observed his drive in had probably already called to report him for reckless driving. The rolling stop he’d made at the first four-way off the highway had not been his proudest moment.
And now, instead of hustling to get his order, Christina Braswell was doing some kind of deep breathing exercises, her eyes closed, and his son was on the phone.
Since he’d just
