That Josie had to ask demonstrated just what opposite kinds of lives we’d lived. When a full truck of guys barreled toward me in an abandoned parking lot late at night, I knew a serious ass kicking was on the horizon. Josie saw the same thing and thought I wonder what they want? The way we Montana boys figured things out was: You took my girl. I kicked your ass. We were square. It took a hell of a lot of balls and maybe not a lot of brain, but we settled matters the rough-and-tough country way. We didn’t sue or knife tires—we kicked ass. That the Mason boys had left enough of their hippy California roots behind to bring it like true country boys earned them a smidgeon of respect in my book. Mason’s truck had rolled to a stop, and I heard doors opening.

“Josie, baby, please . . . your truck.”

Her face went soft as her eyes shifted from the truck to me. “That was the first time you called me baby.”

Kissing her quickly because I couldn’t help it, I led her to her truck. I heard the Mason boys’ boots crunching gravel our way. “Unless you get in your truck and leave now, that baby will have been less a term of endearment and more a reference to the way you’re behaving.”

“Stop.” Josie pulled her arm out of my grip. “If you think I’m leaving you alone with the Masons after what went down earlier, you’re the one rationalizing like a baby.”

“Joze—” I wasn’t above begging.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms and held her ground.

From the footsteps, we were out of time for her to escape anyway. “You are so damn stubborn.”

“I learned it from you.” Glancing over my shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “Colt, what the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We followed you,” Colt replied, standing in the center of his four brothers.

“No one was following us.” I’d checked my rearview the whole drive, half expecting the encounter.

“We didn’t have to tail your truck to follow you,” one of the older brothers, Finn or Frank or Fart or hell, Filly, said. “All we had to do was follow the stink of trash.”

Josie lunged, and I just barely stopped her. I knew enough about the Masons to know they weren’t there to hurt Josie—that was about the only point I could give them—but that didn’t mean I wanted her within arm’s reach of any of them. She didn’t fight me like I’d expected.

She said, “Those are awfully tough words coming from a guy who studies managerial accounting on the East Coast and orders a Blue Hawaiian in a bar.”

I couldn’t help it—I smiled. Literally seconds away from having five grown men jump me, and all I could do was smile at the firecracker in my arms.

“And those are mighty judgmental words coming from a girl who cheats on a good man with this piece of trash.”

Josie wiggled in my arms. If she didn’t stop fighting me, I would be worn out before I got to the actual fight. “Since your dad basically bribed the county prosecutor to have a DUI dropped from your record, I’m putting it on record that your ideas of what a good man is are a tad skewed.”

The F-named Mason’s face went murderous. When he took a few steps our way, I moved Josie behind me and lifted my hands. “Not another step, Filly. Not another fucking step. I know why you’re all here, and that’s all fine and dandy, but you’d better wait until Josie is out of harm’s way before charging us again. So help me god, I might not be able to hold all five of you off, but I will kick those pretty white teeth straight down your throat if you keep coming at me with Josie right here.”

He slowed, but he didn’t stop. Colt and one of the younger brothers had to block his way. “You call me Filly one more time, and it’s your teeth getting kicked out.”

The testosterone was really starting to zap to life, and I think the moment was catching up with Josie. It felt like she was trying to herd me into her truck with her. “I don’t know your name, big guy, sorry. I’m just keeping with the family tradition of naming one son after a barnyard animal and running with it.” I pointed at one of the brothers still trying to hold Filly off. “Colt,” I stated, moving my finger to the next one. “Horses’s Ass.” And another Mason. “Jackass.” On to the youngest Mason. “Dumbass.” Ending on the oldest Mason—whose face had miraculously managed to get a shade redder. “Filly.”

Yes, I was stirring the hornet’s nest, but that’s what I did. If I was going to get into a fight, I expected my opponent—or in this case, opponents—to hit me like they meant it. No shots just because. There’d better be some intention and hate behind each hit or else that was just an insult to the fight. “By the way, just so we all have our facts straight, Josie didn’t cheat on Colt. It’s hard to cheat on someone when they’re not even your boyfriend.” Another Mason came for me, the one a year or two younger than Colt.

“Harrison, wait,” Colt ordered. “Garth’s right. Not until Josie’s out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, so all of you just stop trying to make me!” Josie hollered.

Colt and I both sighed. He said, “You might see things one way, Black, but Josie and I have been together, on and off again, for close to a year now.”

“Emphasis on the ‘off!’” Josie piped in.

I had an urge to kiss her again. Thankfully, I repressed that urge because I don’t think Colt could have taken me kissing the girl he was rather convinced had been his for the past year.

“Fine, you see things your way, and I see things differently, but all of that’s beside the point. You all came here with one thing in mind.” I unsnapped my cuffs and rolled up my sleeves. It looked like another new shirt would be getting ruined. “And we all know it wasn’t to talk this out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about when some trailer trash piece of shit thinks he can take one of our girls.”

All of the Mason boys looked like they’d been drinking, but I could smell the alcohol on Filly’s breath. In a fight, alcohol was a tricky deal. If a man had consumed a few shots, he was more dangerous because he still had full control of his motor skills, but his inhibitions were lowered. However, a man who had consumed a few shots past the point of drunk was an easy target—as I’d proven that night Colt had beaten the shit out of me. No motor coordination and too temporarily brain dead for a logical train of thoughts.

Filly looked to be the only one who fit that drunk-as-a-skunk profile. The rest were all varying degrees of dangerous drunk. I was one tough son of a bitch, but up against five big guys who had everything from a baseball bat to an empty glass bottle, I knew the best outcome I could hope for was to leave the fight standing. I wasn’t walking away the winner, but hopefully I’d still be walking. I would make sure most of the Mason boys woke up tomorrow groaning. Clearing my throat, I stared down Filly. “You got that wrong, big guy. It’s you rich California posers who think your shit doesn’t stink thinking you can take one of our girls.” My girl, I added to myself.

“I can’t wait to rub your face into the gravel with my boot.” Filly tossed his jacket aside.

“Okay, enough comparing dicks here. Time to show what they’re actually capable of.”

One of the older brothers held out his arms. “Ready when you are.”

“Joze”—I glanced over my shoulder—“time for you to leave.”

She shook her head hard. “You boys need to get back in that truck and get the hell out of here. We were minding our business until you came along, so why don’t you go mind your own business and leave us alone.”

A couple of Colt’s brothers chuckled, but Filly, of course, was the one to reply. “You made this our business when you cheated on our brother with this waste of space.”

Before I knew she’d moved, Josie braked to a stop in front of him. “The only thing that’s a waste of space around here is you, Finn.” Josie slapped him hard across his cheek.