No Reservations - Megan Hart [101]
Don't call her that,' Brandon said evenly, but through a clenched jaw. 'I've had enough of you and your shit. Get the hell away from me.'
Or else what?' Mike's eyes shifted from side to side, and he bounced a little. 'What's the big boy gonna do? Whatcha gonna do . . .
boy!'
The emphasis he put on the last word forced a hiss of breath from Brandon's lips. He didn't give a damn what Mike thought of him, his age, his relationship with Leah, none of that. All he wanted was the guy to get out of the way so Brandon could get in his car and get home to her. But Mike had never proven himself to be particularly smart when it came to knowing when to give it up. Leah didn't talk about him much. Brandon got the idea she was ashamed at having dated him at all, much less lived with him, and, if there was only one thing in the world Brandon thought Leah should fault herself for, it was that. But hell, it wasn't like he'd never made any dating mistakes. Crissy came to mind every so often, and he always winced at the memory.
Now, though, Brandon stared hard at the other man. 'Back off.'
Ooh. Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?'
Brandon shook his head. 'No. I'm . . . advising you.'
Mike's lip curled back from his teeth. In his seven-hundred dollar suit, his hair carefully combed back from his face, he looked every inch the successful business man — except for the crazy in his gaze. He tugged at the knot of the tie at his throat, then shook his head to toss back a stray hair that had come loose from the gel.
'Fuck you,' Mike said.
Brandon put his keys in his pocket and closed the door to his car. 'Seriously. Back. Off.'
Mike drew in a long, snorting gasp and spit a huge, disgusting loogy onto Brandon's left shoe. 'Or what?'
Shit. Leah had bought him these shoes, and they were nice. Brandon frowned.
'Why are you doing this? Seriously. Do you want to get your ass handed to you? I mean . . . really? Haven't we, like, had this same conversation a few times already? I'm pretty sure it ended bad for you before.'
'She won't marry you,' Mike said. 'You know that, right? Leah won't ever get married. It's not in her to do it.'
The slow simmer of anger roiled to a boil at Mike's words. That the prick thought he'd been close enough with her to think he knew what the fuck he was talking about made Brandon want to strangle him. That he might be right made him want to kick the bastard in the teeth.
But, even though Brandon knew he could reach out a fist and grab the guy by the throat and shake the breath out of him, he didn't do it. Instead he pulled a handful of tissues from his pocket and bent to wipe off the already congealing spittle from his shoe. Then he stood, the crumpled, snot-smeared tissues in one hand, and tucked the mess into Mike's breast pocket.
'She'll marry me.'
Mike punched him in the face. Brandon saw it coming but didn't have time to turn before Mike's fist connected squarely with his cheek. Bright stars of pain flared, blinding him, and Brandon stepped back with a muttered curse. Mike didn't wait for him to recover. He punched Brandon again, this time opening his nose so blood spurted freely.
'Son of a bitch!' Brandon clapped a hand to his face, blood dripping between his fingers. He'd also bitten his tongue, and tasted blood in his mouth.
Mike, the stupid punk, didn't have the sense to run away. In fact, he stood, stunned, like he couldn't believe he'd actually just punched Brandon. Twice.
Motherfucker.
Brandon grabbed the front of Mike's shirt with the hand not holding his nose. His fingers curled tight in the expensive fabric. He yanked the other guy towards him, up on his toes, to bring him eye to eye. He took his hand from his nose, which was still bleeding.
'I would like to punch your fucking ticket for you, you know that? I would really like to fucking kick your fucking ass,' Brandon said in a tight, furious voice. He paused to turn and spit blood onto the pavement. Mike let out a small whimper. 'The fuck are you thinking? Punching me in my fucking face? The fuck, man?'
Brandon was pretty sure he'd