“Mind your own business,” the guy threw over his shoulder.

“Leave her alone.” Cole got in his space, forcing the guy to face him.

“Make me.”

“Be easier for both of us if I didn’t have to,” Cole said in warning.

They stood eyeing each other, every muscle in Cole’s body taut and ready to spring into action. At last, the bastard sagged back a step, his chin dropping in acquiescence, opening up enough space for the blonde to get through. She did so without a word as Cole relaxed a degree.

Cole shot a glance after her as she reached the open area by the counter. As he turned back, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and tried to dodge it. Pain exploded above his right eye and he swore.

He shoved the asshole toward the back door that was a few feet away. He had a deal with Winona not to fight in her bar, but this douchebag wasn’t getting away with punching him.

Cole pushed the back door open and the guy stumbled out into the alley, then threw another punch at Cole. Cole ducked it and hit him with an uppercut and a hook that had him staggering.

The back door to Sunshine’s slammed open behind Cole, and he whipped around just as another scrawny dude, apparently the bearded bastard’s sidekick, lunged at him.

Asshole Number Two’s punch missed its mark, but Cole’s didn’t. Cole whipped around in time to avoid Asshole Number One’s next attempt, then sent him sprawling with one more well-placed hit.

Within a few seconds, Cole had both of them laid out, conscious but not moving much, crying for their moms.

Cole tried the back door, but it was always locked from the outside and had latched. He left the two and walked down the block to the next opening between buildings to get to the front door of Sunshine’s.

As he made his way back to his place at the counter, where his roast beef and cheddar was still waiting for him, he felt the eyes of the two blondes on him, but he kept his gaze pointed forward.

Winona must have been back in the kitchen, which allowed him to sit down as if nothing had happened and shove a chip in his mouth. That’s when the adrenaline slowed down and he realized his knuckles were torn up and his head was bleeding right above his brow.

He grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and pressed them to the gash. When he pulled them away, the napkins were soaked with blood, but he didn’t worry much. Head wounds always bled a lot.