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My stomach twists, and I go light-headed. Everyone is gaping as my sister tears me apart in Rowan’s salon.
This has to stop.
“I-I-I didn’t say a thing.”
“I-I-I,” she mocks. “Your stutter is annoying, Willow. Who wants a physical therapist who can’t speak correctly? Get your life together.”
She makes a move my way, pointing her finger viciously. “You are a pathetic loser!”
My wits return and I square my shoulders, sucking in a deep breath. “Rylee, we need to take this outside. You’re disrupting Rowan’s business.”
“Rowan? What? You’re on first-name basis with the owner of the hottest salon in town? Puuuhhllease, you couldn’t afford to come here if you tried. Living like a hobo and looking like one, too. How do you even show your face in this place?”
My confidence in my carefully chosen outfit vanishes.
“I love her shoes,” Shayla defends. “And she looks a hell of a lot classier than that knock-off you’re wearing.”
“Shayla is a fashion buyer,” one stylist calls out.
The flames of Rylee’s skin heat to the hue of almost purple. “You bitch, you are enjoying this.”
I’m momentarily distracted by the rumble of a motorcycle somewhere in the distance when she shoves me hard. My body arcs back, my feet tangling and I go down, my head banging with a loud crash against the glass door.
Black stars blur my vision and nausea rolls as pain radiates in my skull and neck. There’s screaming, yelling, and chaos erupting as mortification smothers me.
“What the motherfucking fuck is going on!”
Talon’s roar sends a hush over the room, and I crack an eye enough to see him glaring at Rylee with a deadly force that fills the air.
He’s not in the uniform he left my house in this morning. He’s wearing black nylon shorts and a t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and arms with a fading Marines logo. His black hat is turned backward. If the situation was different, I’d be drooling.
My stomach turns for a new reason when I note Rylee is eyeing him with pure desire.
He’s at my side in a second, lifting me like a child into his arms. “Baby, can you open your eyes?”
“Yes, I’m okay.”
“Bullshit.”
“Did you call her baby? Who are you?”
He stands, spinning to face her. “Your worst nightmare.”
“This woman is stalking me!” she tries.
“You better have a good fucking lawyer,” Ford seethes, Rowan tucked into his chest. “You don’t bring that bullshit into my woman’s building.”
“Willow is the one at fault. I’m here for a bridal consultation. I waited months for a spot to open up!”
Shayla saunters to the computer and scans the screen. “You were referred by Stacy Richards?”
“She’s my mother, and my father is one of the most influential people in this town. He’s a multi-million dollar Healthcare Executive.”
I groan at her description. Typical for her to use Dad’s position and influence to get an appointment.
“Sterling know you’re throwing his name around like that?” Talon snipes.
“You know my dad?”