I set my tequila down. Turning my head, I look the man dead in the eye. “Go away.”
He grins, expelling more of his noxious breath. “Come on. Don’t pretend you don’t want that.”
“I don’t,” I say flatly. “And you’re standing too close.”
His grin falters, then returns sharper. “You got a mouth on you. I can put that to work too.”
Charlie’s voice is lethal when he addresses this loser. “Step back.”
The man aims a thumb in Charlie’s direction, even as he falls off balance. “Who’s the silver-haired dude? Your big brother? No, wait. Your dad?”
Charlie’s smile is razor-thin. “Neither.”
I feel the shift in my man—the restrained edge of fury as he decides how much force will be necessary to protect me.
The man leans closer—idiot. “I’m just saying, if you want a real man?—”
Charlie moves so smoothly it’s graceful. One moment he’s seated, the next he’s upright, blocking the man’s access to me with his body. He makes the other man shrink to being inconsequential with one single move.
“You get one warning,” he says quietly. “Then you’re going to have a very bad night.”
The man’s grin wobbles. He glances around like he expects backup.
No one steps forward. Because at Tide Pool, people know Charlie and no one wants to be on his bad side. I slide off my stool and step around Charlie—not to stop him, but to reclaim my own space. I look the guy in the face again.
“Go,” I say. “Before you embarrass yourself more.”
For a second, the man’s pride fights his survival instinct. Then he scoffs like he’s choosing to leave, not being forced.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “You’ll regret a good time.”
He walks off, shoulders stiff, pride in tatters.
The moment he’s gone, Charlie exhales—controlled, contained. I touch Charlie’s forearm lightly. “Hey.”
His gaze drops to me. It’s dark. Not angry. It’s burning with an intensity that kicks up my pulse a notch. I step closer, sliding my hand up his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palm. Fast. Steady. Controlled.
I lick my lips without thinking.
His eyes track the movement. His jaw tightens.
I feel the moment shift—the bar noise returning, laughter rising around us, but between us, everything sharpens. I lean in, close enough that only he can hear. “You know,” I say softly, “I really don’t need to finish my drink.”
He drops his head slightly, his mouth near my ear. “Rhoswen.”
The way he says my name is not a warning, it’s a promise.
I pull back just enough to see his eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
His gaze dips to my mouth again. “I’m thinking I don’t like anyone looking at you like that.”
“I don’t like it either,” I say. “But I liked watching you decide I was worth standing up for.”
His breath catches—subtle, but there. “Careful. You’re giving me ideas.”
I tilt my head back, my smile turning wicked. “Good thing I’m already having them.”
His hand slides firmly around my waist. “We should go.”
