Chapter 3 #2
“She’s a friend of mine who’s had a really shit day. To top it all off, she’s had to deal with that asshole for way too long tonight. If you can go and pretend that you’re her boyfriend, your dinner and drinks are on me.”
A growl rumbled in Xander’s chest as he watched the other man grab her by the wrist. He stood as she yanked her hand away and headed in their direction. “Dinner and drinks won’t be necessary,” he muttered to the bartender. “What’s her name?”
“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.
Turning back to the bar, he placed his hand on the back of Freya’s barstool. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “Thank you for the rescue.”
He lifted his chin toward the bartender. “Thank your friend.” Freya’s dark eyebrow arched, and he smiled. “Your friend—”
“Maya,” the bartender said, holding out her hand.
He shook it and then brought his attention back to Freya. “Maya informed me I had a girlfriend, and that she needed me.”
A pretty pink stained her cheeks. “Well, I appreciate your acting skills. That guy . . .” She shook her head.
His gaze shot to her wrist, looking for any sign of bruising. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Carmichael snickered, and he shot a glare at his friend over Freya’s head before turning his attention back to her. “Did that guy hurt your wrist?”
“Oh no, I’m fine.” The flush over her cheeks deepened. “Just a little embarrassed, I guess.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. That guy’s a tool.”
Maya scoffed. “Understatement. What can I get you to drink?”
He glanced at the row of taps behind Maya and then at the glass in front of Carmichael.
His friend had a clear, bubbly drink with a couple of lime wedges.
Twenty bucks said it was soda water. Off the clock or not, they were still at the resort representing Hudson Security. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
Moments later, Maya set his drink in front of him, and he took a sip. Yup. Soda water. “Thank you,” he said before turning to Freya and holding out his hand. “I’m Xander Bonetti, by the way.”
She grinned and took his hand. “Freya Hansen. It’s nice to meet you, boyfriend.”
“Pleasure’s all mine. Who knew I could snag such a pretty girlfriend?”
“Ah, a charmer, I see,” she said, a shy smile lifting her lips. “Can I buy you dinner?”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” He gestured to Carmichael. “Our dinner is covered tonight. But maybe I can take you up on that offer some other time?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he stilled. Holy shit, what the fuck just came out of my mouth?
He glanced at Carmichael, who was staring at him with wide eyes, looking like he was barely holding back his laughter.
Before Freya could respond, Maya called out, “Dinner is served, peeps.” She strolled toward them, her arms loaded with dinner plates.
She placed a giant salad in front of Hazel, steak and mashed potatoes in front of Freya, and plates with burgers and fries in front of him and Carmichael.
The food looked amazing, but he gave Maya a questioning look since he hadn’t had the chance to order.
“Your friend ordered for the both of you when he arrived.”
He caught Carmichael’s gaze and lifted his chin. “Thanks, man.”
“So you guys are with Hudson Security, right?” Hazel asked from Carmichael’s other side.
“Yup,” Carmichael replied. “We’re helping Mr. Ortiz with some security consulting.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Hazel said, bringing a forkful of salad to her lips. “Freya and I were working at the salon this afternoon when that guy came in and shot up the place.”
Xander stilled, annoyed at the woman’s chipper and cavalier tone. He glanced at Freya and frowned when he saw her shiver. It wasn’t cold in the bar.
“You were there?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He’d seen the aftermath. For the life of him, he couldn’t picture—no, didn’t want to picture—the woman beside him amid that chaos.
She nodded, her eyes locked on the food in front of her. She reached for her water with a trembling hand. A hand that he suddenly realized was wrapped in a flesh-colored bandage. “My client was the guy’s wife. Hazel was right next to us working with my client’s sister. It was . . . crazy.”
Freya’s voice shook on her last word. The impulse to reach out to soothe her, to touch her, to offer some sort of comfort was immense, but he reined it in.
That was not his place. At all. Momentary fake boyfriend or not, they didn’t know each other.
“I’m so sorry you experienced that. Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
When she turned to him, her smile was bright. Too bright. “I’m thankful no one was seriously injured.”
He nodded. Her nonanswer didn’t escape him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Her blue eyes widened for a moment before she schooled her features. “It’s okay. They offered us grief counselors and . . .” She cleared her throat before quickly cutting a piece of steak and shoving it in her mouth. Smiling around the bite, she asked, “So who cuts your hair?”
He chuckled. “Change the subject. Got it.”
She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine, sweetheart, and you have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” He took a bite of his hamburger and groaned. Holy shit. The salty bacon, the savory beef, and the tart zing of the pickled whatever was on there was sheer freaking perfection.
“I know, man, right?” Carmichael said, half his burger gone. “This is fucking ridiculous.”
Freya snickered. “So get the burger next time? Got it.”
“I’m sure that steak’s great, but yeah,” Xander murmured. He held the burger out to her. “Want a bite?”
She laughed. “I’m good, thanks.”
He took another minute to gobble down most of his burger and then set it down and wiped his hands on his napkin. “To answer your question, no one cuts my hair. Once it gets past my shoulders, I just grab some scissors and hack away.”
Her eyes widened in horror, and he chuckled.
“It looks like shit too,” Carmichael chimed in. “That’s why it’s always pulled back. The dude’s man bun is more functional than fashionable.”
He flipped off his friend before he snagged a fry, ran it through the sauce, and popped it in his mouth. “I used to just buzz my hair, but then I got lazy and let it grow out. I figure when the trimming becomes too much of a pain in the ass, I’ll buzz it again.”