Free Whirlwind by Robin DeJarnett

take no for an answer,” Beth interjected, and I dropped my fork. Mitch would be so happy to know I’d painted him as a sex offender at his wedding. Talk about a gift that keeps on giving.
     
    “It wasn’t like that, and you know it,” I said to her, then turned to the gaping faces around me. “Do you really think I’d be sitting here if anything remotely offensive happened?”
     
    “What did happen, exactly, Melissa?” Dean asked quietly.
     
    I glared at Beth. She got us into this awkward mess—she’d better find a way out. “Well?”
     
    “Um, well, I don’t really know exactly what he said to you in the bar,” Beth said slowly. “I just know he followed you out to the parking lot. You did look scared.”
     
    At the time, I’d been terrified, but not because of Mitch. Okay, not just because of Mitch. “Only because I didn’t know him or any of the other guys that followed you outside.”
     
    “Oh. I never thought about it that way. Sorry, Mel.” Beth’s expression darkened when she finally realized no one was smiling back at her. “It really wasn’t bad,” she said. “It’s actually pretty funny.”
     
    She explained how I’d met Mitch and the team at the local watering hole after my first rodeo, and how he’d taken a shine to me. She didn’t go into detail about Mitch’s past reputation for chasing skirts, but I remembered exactly when he’d caught me in his sights.
     
    I’d been surprised he’d seen me at all, considering he’d spent most of the night grinding all over a double-D airhead he’d met at the bar. I’d decided I had more than enough background for my article and was calling it a night when he ditched Barbie and found me.
     
    “How about a dansssss before you go, Melisssssa ?” he said, swinging his hips suggestively.
     
    “First, I don’t dance. Second, I think your top-heavy friend is going to tip over without you,” I said. When Mitch turned to check on D-Debbie D-D Cup, I flung myself out the door. I was almost to my car when he caught my arm and spun me around.
     
    “Come on, Melissa. Juss one sssong .” He peered at me and snickered. “ Ya know, you’re purty when you’re pissssed .”
     
    “Get your hands off me,” I snarled, twisting out of his grasp.
     
    He staggered back a little. “Come on, it’ll be fu …fun. Didja haf a goo time with me today?”
     
    That’s when Beth and a few of Mitch’s buddies appeared.
     
    “I did. Don’t spoil it by being a jackass.”
     
    “Aw, Mel, don’t be like that. Juss one dink ana dance. It’ll be fuuuun ,” he repeated to the drunken delight of his posse.
     
    “Are you okay, Melissa?” Chase said, pushing his way between two of his teammates.
     
    Sober and serious, his presence was a welcome sight.
     
    “She’s fiiiiine , aren’t you?” Mitch said. “We’re juss talkin ’ here.”
     
    Mitch’s hand came up to my shoulder, but I backed away again. One of the other guys shouted, “Go for it, Mitch,” earning him a punch in the shoulder from Chase.
     
    “Shut up, dickhead,” Mitch growled and took a step closer. “Kay, juss the dink then,” he mumbled. “ Dansssing doesn’t sssound good anyways.” The alcohol on his breath wafted toward me, burning my nose.
     
    A strong, sure voice echoed in my head. My father’s voice. Distract and escape, Melissa . Protect yourself.
     
    “Leave her alone, Mitch. She just wants to go home,” Beth yelled, shooing the guys back inside with Chase’s help.
     
    “What if I asssed niiiice ?” Mitch hissed.
     
    “Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned, hoping he’d removed all of his protective gear before he’d left the arena.
     
    The guys stopped at the door with a low ooooo .
     
    “ You hurt me? ” Mitch laughed and looked over his shoulder at his friends.
     
    That’s when my knee met his crotch with the force of a major league line drive, sending the champion bulldogger to the ground in a whimpering heap.
     
    “You have