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One guy’s shoulder collided with hers and she let out a yelp of pain as she fell forward.
    My instincts were quick and probably wrong.
    I grabbed hold of her arm and then quickly brought her up toward me and from the moment she looked into my eyes, hers wide with shock and pain, I could tell who she was.
    A wildcat.
    I swallowed hard and immediately forgot about wanting to ram my fists through the two drunk boys’ heads. She was staring at me so intently that I knew I could never fade into the background after this. I could never observe her from a distance again. I could never watch from the shadows. From now on, this all had to be out in the open.
    “Thank you,” she said to me in perfect English, her voice lightly accented. I guess it came with the territory of being a flight attendant.
    “You’re welcome,” I said, immediately relaxing into my role. Without fail, this was the role I’d always fall back in. Dumb tourist jock, Derrin Calway.
    However I failed to relax my fingers. I slowly released them from her arm before I made her uncomfortable.
    From the slight pout to her lips, I could have sworn she wanted my hands to stay where they were.
    A long, heavy moment passed between us as we stared at each other. I tried to take her all in – her hair as it stuck in places to her damp forehead, the faint bruising still evident around her eyes, the stiff way she held her battered limbs, the soft swell of her cleavage – not knowing if I would get the chance again.
    Then the door to the bathroom swung open and the tall friend came out. “What a mess in there,” the woman said to Alana in Spanish. When she didn’t get Alana’s attention, her eyes swung over to me.
    “Who is this?” she asked, an edge of suspicion to her voice. That actually made me feel relieved. Alana needed protective friends.
    “I don’t know,” Alana mumbled briefly in English. She gave me a crooked smile. “Who are you?”
    I tried on an easy grin but I wasn’t sure if it was sitting right. I wasn’t used to smiling. “Derrin Calway,” I told her, extending my hand.
    “Alana Bernal,” she said, shaking mine. Her palm was hot, her grip firm. Somehow it grounded me. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Calway. This bar is full of fucking idiots.”
    She didn’t seem apologetic at all over her language. I liked that.
    I gave her a nod. “No problem. Bars are always full of them.” I eyed her friend. “Tu nombre?” I asked her, butchering the language just enough.
    She raised a strong brow. “You speak Spanish,” she said dryly. “How impressive. My name is Luz. Where are you from, Derrin?”
    “Calgary, Alberta,” I answered. “It’s in Canada.”
    “I know where it is,” Luz said quickly. “The whole of Puerto Vallarta is full of you Western Canadians.”
    I shrugged. “What can I say, it’s a good place. Your English is very good, by the way.”
    “We’re both flight attendants,” Alana said, leaning briefly against her friend in an affectionate way. “We have to know English to deal with drunken white boys.”
    “Especially those who get too close,” Luz added although this sounded more like a threat. From the way she was staring at me, I had no doubt it was.
    Time to play it cool.
    “Well, have a good night.” I told them both with a quick nod and turned to head back to the bar. I’d only walked a few feet before Alana called out after me. “Hey!”
    My heart stilled. It had been a gamble.
    I turned and looked at her inquisitively.
    In the dim light it was hard to tell if she was blushing or not. She attempted to walk over to me but Luz was immediately helping her along. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”
    I feared the smile on my face was actually genuine. “I’d love that. But I’ll be buying you a drink. You’re the one all bandaged up.” I pretended to look around the bar. “What will you have and where are you sitting?”
    Alana jerked her head in the direction of their table.