Summer Lovin': A Wounded Hearts Novella by Jacquie Biggar Page B

greasy hair. It didn’t take much to guess that he spent a good portion of his time on the end of a bottle.
    His hand twisted in the scruff of Tommy’s jacket, and he gave it a shake. Instant tears sprang to the poor kid’s eyes.
    “There’s no need to be rough,” she snapped and reached down to lift her bag from the ground. “I asked him to help me out for a couple of minutes.” She studiously ignored his start of surprise. “Is that a problem, Mr.?” She damn sure wanted this joker’s name. Jack would be interested to hear how he was treating a little boy.
    The guy snorted. “You think I’m an idiot, lady?”
    He shoved Tommy toward his bike, almost knocking him off his feet. “Git goin’, I’ll be right behind ya.”
    Tommy gave her a helpless glance then yanked his bike out of the rack, threw a leg over the cracked seat, and peddled away as though his life depended on it.
    The man moved into her personal space. Rebecca held her ground but her heart was thrashing its way up her throat.
    He lifted cigarette stained fingertips and ran them up and down the strap of her purse. “You don’t want to mess with me, lady. Just forget today ever happened, you got it?”
    Becky swayed, more scared than she’d ever been in her life. She opened her mouth to answer she didn’t know what, when a familiar, and at the moment welcoming, voice spoke from over her shoulder.
    “Hey, Becky, there you are.” Mitch’s big body cast a looming shadow over the man in front of her. He took a hasty step back.
    Mitch wrapped a muscular arm in a short-sleeved shirt around her waist and tugged her close. Rebecca glanced up to tell him to lay off and cringed at the stony expression at odds with his jovial tone.
    “You have a problem with my wife , mister, you take it up with me.” He stared the other man down, totally ignoring her gasp of outrage. “Got it?” His choice of words made it clear he’d heard at least the end of the conversation.
    The man swore and spat on the ground between them— ew —then turned and stomped off to a faded red pickup sitting near the school fence.
    The engine roared, sending up a blast of blue smoke. He left behind the smell of burnt gas and an uncomfortable silence.
    She twisted out of Mitch’s hold and fisted her hands on her hips.
    “Husband? You’re about five years too late to be making that claim, Mitchell Taylor.”

Chapter Two
    M itch tracked the departing truck until it disappeared from sight. There was something familiar about that guy…
    “Did you hear me?” Becky demanded.
    His lips quirked at her impatient tone. Damn, it was easy to get her dander up. He thought how much fun it would be to get her all worked up just so they could have make-up sex. His body hardened, on board with the idea in two seconds flat. Pathetic, man, you’re so pathetic.
    A floppy garden hat shaded her face and matched the hobo handbag she was digging through. She glanced up and her eyes matched the sky for their crystalline brilliance.
    Mitch cocked his head toward the road. “What was that about?”
    She followed his gaze, visibly shuddered, then squared her shoulders. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She lifted her chin and he wanted to kiss her. “I’m good at taking care of myself.”
    Yeah, he knew that.
    “I never doubted you could, sweetheart.”
    A slim hand rose to hold him off. “Stop it,” she demanded.
    She hesitated, then slipped past him to get her bike. “I have to go. I need to stop by the sheriff’s office.”
    Jealousy flared. Mitch cursed under his breath.
    She glanced back. “Pardon me?”
    He bit the inside of his lip, warning himself to keep it cool. “I just asked if you wanted me to see Jack so you could go ahead with your day.”
    A group of pint-sized kids rushed past, pushing and shoving each other in fun.
    “See you next week, Miss Sorenson,” they called.
    She smiled and tugged her bike free of the rack. “Have a good weekend,” she answered to their backs.