Becca gave herself a minute—two, max—to cry, and then she sniffed and went to the mirror to fix her makeup. She dabbed away smudged mascara, reapplied her lip gloss, and then put her hand on the door, dreading that she was going to have to walk across that crowded restaurant one more time with everyone staring at her, knowing she was wearing the ugliest panties known to humankind under her cute dress because her date wasn’t going to get any.

God, how humiliating.

She took a deep breath and then opened the door and stepped into the hallway that led back out to the main area of the restaurant. In the distance, dishes were clinking in the kitchen and music was playing. It sounded normal. She didn’t hear the guys at the bar, their loud laughter, or anything of that nature.

Her date waited at the entrance to the bathroom, leaning against the wall. He was an intimidating figure, made all the more terrifying by the dark scowl on his face. He straightened as she exited and touched her bare arm when she tried to brush past him.

“Wait,” he murmured. “Stop.”

She did, staring at the wall and at the framed picture of a butcher’s diagram of beef and how it related to cattle. Huh. So that was where the T-bone came from.

Calloused fingers touched her chin. Hank gently lifted her face until her gaze met his, and he scanned her eyes, his mouth drawing to a firm, hard line at the sight of her reddened eyes. His thumb brushed over her chin, just once, and then he leaned in. “Do you have cash?”

“Cash?” She gave him a curious look. “For my half of the bill?”

“No.” He leaned in closer. “For my bail money if I go beat the shit out of that guy.”

Becca’s eyes went wide. He was serious? As she stared up at him, she noticed the intense look on his face, the tightness at the edges of his mouth, and realized that, yes, he was very serious.

Oh. For some reason, that made her feel better. She hadn’t reacted on her own, but he was outraged on her behalf, and that somehow helped. She touched his arm. “Let’s just go, okay?”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

A moment later, a big hand splayed across her back, and then Hank slowly escorted her out of the restaurant, glaring at the men as they passed the bar. Not one of them looked in Becca’s direction. They all looked terrified.

And, okay, that made her feel a little better, too.

Hank calmly guided her through the parking lot and opened her door for her, helping her into the truck. He shut the door, then paused. For a long moment, she held her breath as he glanced back over at the rows of motorcycles, as if he was considering. Then he looked at her again.