Mouth to Mouth (Beach Kingdom 1)

“Olive,” Rory breathed, rattling the shelves of bottles as he dodged Jamie, attempting to reach her before one of those fists came within two feet of her. Before he could lift the hatch, though, he could only watch in horror as Polo Shirt swung on the regular, got blocked and stumbled backwards, running into Olive hard and sending her stumbling. She went down, knocking her head on the side of a table as she went—and a bomb detonated inside Rory.

He was only vaguely aware that his angry bellow brought the bar—and the fight—to a standstill, because he could only see her. The way she grimaced and pressed a hand to her head. Hurt. She’s hurt.

This time, he didn’t bother using the fucking hatch. He launched himself over the bar, upsetting bottles and spilling drinks, red bleeding into the edges of his vision. People darted out of his way as he stalked toward the man who’d knocked Olive over. His fists were two rocks, shaking at his sides, lifting, ready to do some serious damage and God, it was going to feel so good. He might have cleaned this fucker’s clock just for walking in with Olive. For thinking he could breathe the same air as her. You made some mistakes tonight, asshole. Huge ones.

Rory didn’t know what made him glance down at Olive where she sat on the floor, being comforted by her friend, but her expression caused a pause in his stride.

Her eyes were wide, her hands curled up under her chin. She looked…scared.

What did she have to be scared about? He was here. He was going to take care of everything. Take care of the idiot who’d put her in a position where she could get hurt. Rory tried to tell her that without words, but she only shook her head, fear becoming more prominent on her beautiful, but paling, face.

Olive’s friend tried to block her view of Rory. And that’s when Rory realized Olive was scared…of him. She was scared of him.

His heart plummeted to his boots so rapidly, he wondered how he remained standing. The rage drained in one fell swoop and all that remained was denial. Shame. He’d felt that combination before but never with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs.

“Sunbeam,” he mouthed, halting his progress in the direction of Polo Shirt. He forced his fists to unfold and held up both hands, approaching her slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to do nothin’,” he rasped, forgetting to phrase his words the right way. “Look, baby.”

She sniffed hard and nodded.

Rory approached her slowly, swallowing a lump when her friend seemed reluctant to let him touch her. But Olive patted her friend’s hand, never breaking eye contact once as he crouched down and replaced the glasses that had been knocked off her face. Then he scooped her up and cradled her against his chest. Bliss cascaded downward from the top of his head, traveling to his feet as he carried Olive back through the silent crowd toward the bar. Andrew passed him with a shocked expression on the way, finally shaking himself and using his authority to toss out the would-be brawlers and restore order.

Christ, it felt so good to hold her. To have her close. His need to punish the ones who’d put her in harm’s way was almost squashed until he noticed the bleeding cut at her hairline. His footsteps faltered on the way into the back office. “Jamie,” he said thickly. “I need the first-aid kit.”

Rory barely registered his middle’s brother’s bewilderment before he and Olive were inside the dark office. After setting her carefully down on the edge of the desk, he used his elbow to flip on the light switch—and with Olive’s beauty illuminated, he could only stare, his tongue weighted and useless in his mouth.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

She gasped and sat up straighter, her chin wobbling. “Oh…shut up.”

How many times could his heart hit the deck in one night? “Shut up?”

“That’s right. Don’t bring your romantic lines around here. I’m not buying them.”

“I’m not being romantic.” Rory stepped closer, every cell in his body buzzing louder with every inch he traveled in her proximity. “I’m telling you what I see.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you in two weeks.” She crossed her arms over her middle, but not before he saw her shudder. “I mean it, Rory. Don’t act like you missed me when you could stay away so easily. Actually, I-I kind of hate you right now.”

Feeling like he’d been sucker punched in the gut, he gripped the desk on either side of her thighs and leaned in as close as she would allow, smelling the air above her collarbone. “Easily?” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “You stayed late yesterday morning after class and missed your bus back to Long Beach. The one I follow to make sure it arrives safely?” He shook his head. “I was two seconds from heading into the Burnbaum building and finding you. You never stay late.”