I remembered how she used to respond to me all those years ago. Melting beneath my kiss, whimpering beneath my touch. But now? She was heat and fire. Passionate and wild. And she’d given all of that to me.

When she’d slapped the paper on my chest, I’d seen her anger. Fuck, how could I have missed it? I’d also seen her heat.

I sidled up to her high top. She and her friend looked up at me. The guy stared wide-eyed in my direction.

“Huck,” Sarah said, swallowing hard. “I was just—”

“Leaving,” I finished for her, standing beside their table, feet spread wide.

“Sarah, you know him?” the guy asked, then swallowed hard. Good, he was afraid of me. He should be for even looking her way.

“I know you,” I said, setting my hands on my hips. “Two reckless driving citations and a night in jail for drunk and disorderly.”

The guy—Brad Blaison—flushed. Yeah, I had the right guy. He wasn’t a total fuckup, but he didn’t deserve to even look at Sarah.

“Find another target, Brad,” I told him.

He hopped up faster than the Easter Bunny and disappeared into the crowd.

Sarah stood as well. For one so small, she had a lot of fury. “You’re an asshole.”

I didn’t move. “I’ve heard that before.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away, then headed for the entrance. Since it was the direction I wanted her to go, I didn’t say a word, only followed.

Once we were outside, I set my hat back on my head, then reached out and grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

I didn’t say anything, just led her to my truck. I’d parked far from the entrance, near the road. Out of habit, I’d backed into the spot. There was an empty space next to my truck.

“You want a guy, baby girl, I’m right here.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped, running a hand through her hair. It was wild and long down her back. She had on another dress, this one missing the damned tie at the hip. It was yellow and had a little ruffle just above the knee. The neckline dipped in a V that all but invited my hand to slip into it and cup her small breast. Brush the nipple with my thumb.

I’d always called her baby girl. She was six years younger than me and had been eighteen when we first got together. While I wasn’t into being her daddy, I’d always want to take care of her. Protect her. Based on how I’d reacted when she was sitting inside with Brad, I was still pretty fucking possessive, too.

She turned and faced away from me. I could see the roll of her shoulders, the way she was looking down at the ground. “As for being my guy, you lost that chance a long time ago.”

“And I got it back last night when you sat on my face.”