“Freya,” the woman quickly replied.
Freya. He rolled her name around in his mind as she approached with the man hot on her heels.
As they neared, the other man’s words had Xander’s frown deepening.
“You’re at a bar by yourself accepting drinks from guys who aren’t your boyfriend. You’re asking to get hit on. No real man would allow that. I mean, what kind of man lets his girl talk up another guy at a bar?”
Xander clenched his fists. What a fucking piece of shit.
“Those are some big words, bud,” the bartender said from behind him. “You gonna call out her boyfriend’s manliness to his face?”
“Absolutely.” The guy scoffed with a look of utter superiority. “If she actually had a boyfriend, I’d definitely tell him what’s what to his damn face.”
Xander prided himself on always keeping his temper in check. But this fucker?
Testing his goddamn limits.
“By all means then,” he said, meeting the dipshit’s gaze. “Feel free to tell me what’s what.”
Straightening to his full six-four, Xander stepped toward them and took satisfaction in watching the other man blanch.
Wrapping an arm around Freya’s slim shoulders, he tucked her into his side, surprised how perfectly she fit against him. He glanced down at her, and her ice-blue gaze socked him right in the chest. Before he could second-guess himself, he bent down, and as she sucked in a startled gasp, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
“Hey, baby. Sorry I’m late.”
She stared at him for a second but then cleared her throat and flashed him a dazzling smile. “Oh, no problem. I’m just so happy you were able to make it.”
Xander glared at the other man. He had the guy by at least five inches and easily outweighed him by forty pounds. He had zero problems intimidating the fucker. “This guy giving you problems, Frey?”
“Um, well . . .” she stammered.
“It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you go take a seat,” he said, softly squeezing her shoulders. The last thing he wanted was to make her more uncomfortable than she obviously already was. He could deal with this fucker on his own.
As she settled into the stool beside Carmichael, Xander met his friend’s gaze. Carmichael lifted his chin in silent acknowledgement and then whispered to Freya.
Once her worried gaze left him, Xander stepped to the other man, who immediately held his hands up.
“I don’t want any trouble, man. Your girlfriend came on to me. In fact?—”
“I’d stop talking if I were you,” Xander interrupted. “You know why?” When the other man opened his mouth, Xander shook his head. “That was a rhetorical question, asshole. See, I have eyes. And I saw you lay your fucking hand on my woman.”
The man went ashen.
Xander crossed his arms over his chest and held the man’s gaze. Two pink splotches brightened the guy’s cheeks.
“If you even look in my woman’s direction again, you and I are gonna have words. Am I clear?”
The other man sputtered, and Xander knew the exact words that were going to fly out of the guy’s stupid mouth.
“Do you know who I?—”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are,” Xander murmured, taking another step closer. “Am. I. Clear?”
The man opened his mouth but then snapped it shut, giving Xander a curt nod before quickly turning and hustling out of the lounge.
Part of him was disappointed the guy wasn’t a complete idiot. That part wished the asshole had mouthed off just so he could put the guy in his place.
Instead, Xander slowly pulled in a deep breath through his nose and let it out. No. He wasn’t that hothead anymore. The last thing Freya needed was more violence after the guy had had the audacity to grab her.
