“I am so sorry, I—”
“You should have been watching where the fuck you were walking, you stupid—”
“Donotfinish that sentence,” I growl, low and menacing, taking a step forward to put myself between Bryn and the man.
He’s snarling at her, lip curled back, contempt flaring in his eyes as his glare turns on me. His chest heaves, quick and shallow, and I fight to remain poised to strike, but relaxed enough to slow everything down.
“Or what?” he spits.
“Wyatt, it’s fine,” Bryn murmurs, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt.
The fuck if I’m going to back down to some asshole talking to her like that. He shouldn’t be talking to any woman like that. “Or you and I are going to have a problem.”
Rage explodes in the man’s eyes. Like he isn’t used to having someone challenge him.
The next words out of his mouth are enough to make me see red.
“Then we’ve got a problem, because this stupid fucking bitch should watch where—”
Chapter 9
Bryn
Theman’swordscutoff, but hatred remains in his blue eyes, chilling me to the bone. I know why he stopped when he did. I can feel the others behind me, then someone’s gentle touch to my wrist, pulling me back. A hand with ice-cold fingers. Hailey.
Luke steps directly in front of me, Brody and Liam at my side. It’s Nate that takes charge, though, stepping beside Wyatt, pressing a hand to Wyatt’s upper chest. Telling him to back down.
“You need to go.” Nate tells the man. He leaves no room for argument, holding all authority in his squared shoulders and full stance. “Now.”
The man, a blond dressed in black jeans and a brown Carhartt jacket, sneers at Nate. Disdain drips off him. “And who the fuck are you?”
“The owner of this establishment. And I’m asking you to leave,” he says, easy but commanding. Refusing to let anger show, while still owning the room. “Let’s not escalate this further.”
The man eyes Nate for a moment before looking at the other men crowded around. He’s sitting with a couple, but they’ve both pushed their chairs back, like they were ready to flee if fists started getting thrown. Neither of them look like they are about to back him up, and he must know that because he slowly deflates.
He’s outnumbered and he knows it.
“Fine, I was leaving anyway. This place is a fuckin’ joke, hiringuseless staff like that,” he growls as a parting shot.
My jaw clenches, and I bite back my retort. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t abruptly pushed his chair back from the table. He slammed it right into me. I’ll have the bruise on my thigh in the morning to prove it. Not that I was going to blame him. It happens, and he must not have seen me. But to lose his shit like he did was uncalled for.
“You okay?” Hailey whispers to me, still gripping my arm, fingers cold like all the blood is out of her hands.
Watching the man turn and head towards the door with Nate behind him and Liam falling in line, I nod to Hailey, touching her hand with my other one. “I’m good. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Some patrons come in here looking to be assholes, and that guy definitely falls under that category.”
Everything has gone silent. Around me and within the bar. Like everyone is holding their breath, but when the door closes, a flurry of chatter starts up again.
Wyatt turns toward me, our eyes locking. An unspoken question passes between us—are you okay—and I give him a small nod. Part of me hates that he got involved because I could have handled it, especially with Nate right there, but another part of me, possibly a bigger part, wants to swoon over this man coming to my aid so quickly.
Then again, any one of the guys at the table would have done the same thing if Wyatt hadn’t gotten there first. They’re all the big brothers I never had.
Wyatt just feels different because he is different. Because I’m attracted to him.
Squatting down to clean up the mess I made, I grab a couple of glasses that luckily didn’t shatter, and as I’m reaching for the third one, a larger hand closes around it. An eagle with its wingsspread looks up at me from the inside of a forearm. Wyatt, with two glasses already in his hand.
“It’s not your job to clean up,” I tell him. “But thank you.”
“Don’t mind helping out.”
