Page 68 of Here With Me

Before Noah can stop me, I take my beer and head his way.

“Fisher, no.” Her voice fades the farther I walk. This little shit’s been harassing her, and I can’t just stand here and do nothing. Letting my son be rude to her was hard enough, but I don’t have enough willpower to stay silent with this asshole.

“Craig?” I ask when I’m behind him.

“Who’s askin’?” He spins around and sizes me up. “Who’re you?”

“Were you at the Sugarland Creek Ranch a few days ago?”

“I’m not sayin’ a goddamn thing to you until I know who you are.”

“Fisher Underwood. I’m their newfarrier.”

His face breaks out into a knowing, shit-eating grin, and it’s all the confirmation I need to know he’s the guy. “Okay, and what about it?”

“Were you there?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t recall.”

I step closer until the tip of my boot touches his. “Think real hard, then. You put Noah and her client at risk of gettin’ hurt with your little stunt. Hell, you harmed Ranger’s hoof.”

I stand straighter, daring him to deny it again.

“Fisher, there ya are.” Wilder approaches, grabbing my arm.

“Oh, how cute. The whole Hollis clan is here tonight.”

“You better watch your mouth, Sanders. Just ’cause Noah didn’t invite you to the fundraiser don’t mean you gotta act like a little bitch.”

Oh, fucking hell.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at your stupid ranch,” he spits out.

“That so? Because we got ya on camera,” Wilder retorts.

“Is that so?” Craig pushes his wrists together in a cocky gesture. “Then why haven’t I been arrested?”

His amused remark has me wanting to punch in his smug little boy face. Thirty-five-year-old me wouldn’t have thought twice about doing it.

But I try not to be that person anymore.

The one who used violence as an outlet for my pain.

“Keep it up, and you’ll wish you’d been arrested instead of what we’ll do to you,” Wilder threatens, and this time, I’m the one grabbing his arm and pulling him back. I see a lot of my younger self in him, which worries me. Wilder’s tall, built like an MMA fighter, and could easily do some damage to Craig’s lanky body.

Craig’s cocky grin widens. “Have a great evening, gentlemen. Watch where you step.” Then he looks around me where Noah waits and adds, “Lots ofsnakesout there.”

He walks away, leaving Wilder scathing.

“He’s not worth it,” I tell him.

“Trust me, it would be.”

He brushes past me, and I follow him back to the bar.

“What’d he say?” Noah asks.

I squeeze the neck of the beer bottle and take a drink as I glance at her over the rim. “He’s definitely the one who did it. Wilder was ready to knock him out,” I say, telling her word for word what happened with Craig.