Chapter 31
Wyatt
“She didn’t finish my massage,” the man says, losing some of the indignation with his correction. “I paid for an hour.”
“And then you were inappropriate,” Bryn reaffirms, standing her ground.
The revelation makes me see red. It doesn’t matter what this man said or did to her, if it crossed a line, I will put him through a wall.
The man’s eyes tighten, one side of his mouth curling up in a snarl. To blink would have been to miss it, but I see it as it unfolds, and for what it is. Suppressed rage.
“I told you I didn’t do anything. You heard me wrong,” he claims, throwing his hands up in innocence.
“We both know I didn’t,” she says, and I step up to her side, hands balled into fists. “You do not want me to repeat what you said or what else happened.”
Grinding my teeth together, I take another step forward, putting myself between the two of them, coming nearly toe-to-toe with the guy.
He’s scrawny. Not much muscle on him. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t be scrappy, but growing up with three brothers means I know how to fight good enough that I’d take this guy in a second.
It helps that I’m seeing red.
“Pay your bill and get out.” The words come out through my teeth, tight but controlled. “Or we’re going to step outside.”
His nostrils flare, and the flash of his eyes tells me he’s thinking about the latter. I give him a minute to size me up, deciding whether or not it’s worth it, but finally he shrinks back, looking at the receptionist.
“Fine,” he says, moving around me to the counter. I’m right on his heels, crossing my arms as we both come to a stop in front of Celeste. He’s not getting within touching distance of either woman while I’m here. “But I’m giving this place a one-star review.”
The tension is thick in the air. No one but Celeste speaks, and it’s only to tell him how much he owes. I tower over him, knowing I probably look like some kind of bouncer at a bar, ready to throw a rowdy drunk out, but I don’t care. It’s been a shit day, and this hasn’t helped.
Two minutes later, he’s headed towards the door, and as he grabs the handle, he turns around, looking directly at Bryn. “Great tits, by the way.”
Blood thunders in my ears as I launch myself towards him, but two hands grab onto my bicep and use it as a pole to swing herself in front of me.
It doesn’t fully stop me, but it slows me down, my free arm instinctively going around her waist, so she doesn’t fall as all my momentum propels us both forward.
“He’s not worth it!” Bryn cries out, gripping onto me tighter, but the world has closed so tightly around my vision, making everything black except for the man walking through the door like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Wyatt, stop!”
No part of me wants to do what she commands, but she has some kind of switch built into my brain, and the word has me halting despite my need to go after the guy.
“He’s not worth it,” she repeats.
Her hands release my arm, only to come and rest against my chest. One hand over my heart.
Over her tattoo. It pulls me back into the room with her, opening the darkness that had engulfed most of my sight.
The immediate thunderous roar that filled my head dulls, and suddenly I can hear my own ragged breaths.
Grabbing her face with both of my hands, our gazes collide, and the worry and fear filling her beautiful hazel eyes makes me want to go after the guy again.
“Are you okay?” My eyes scan her face, looking her over. “What did he do to you? Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head, her brown hair flying around her face. It tells me the strength of the movement, which makes me think she’s exaggerating it for my benefit. To ensure I really see and hear her.
It makes me take a deep breath. She’s right. He’s not worth it. But she is, and she needs to be my number one concern. I’m doing nothing to help her right now.
Another breath.
My head clears, slowly at first, but the more distance between the guy leaving and me, the easier it becomes to start thinking straight.
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” I ask her again, my hands sliding over her neck, along the top of her shoulders, and down to her upper arms where they stay.
“Shook up more than anything,” she answers, her hands easing their pressure on my chest. It’s only then I realize she was pressing against me with some force, worried that I would keep going.
Glancing over my shoulder, she says to Celeste, “You didn’t book anyone else for me this afternoon, did you? ”
The receptionist, who I only met ten minutes before Bryn came out, answers, “No. What the hell happened?”
Bryn eyes me warily, hands slowly sliding down my body until they come away from it before she hits my lower stomach. I can read the words in her eyes. Be good.
Huffing because I know I’m not going to like what I hear, I incline my head in acceptance before she sidesteps me to see Celeste better.
“He was just creepy from the beginning—”
“I noticed that,” Celeste interjects, and I turn to look at her. She noticed and still let Bryn go into a private room with that motherfucker?
“—and when I turned him over, he wouldn’t stop staring at me. Which was awkward, but I could handle it. Then I’m pretty sure he touched my leg, but it could have been the way I leaned, so I let it go,” she continues.
My hands are balled at my sides again, teeth gritted. Bullshit it was the way she leaned. Guys like that know exactly what they’re doing, and the rest of her story tells me I’m right.
It’s the last incident, the one that happened practically right in front of me, that has me seeing red again. There’s acid in my veins, burning every inch of me. He tried to grab her ass. Right there at the door. I should have put him through a fucking wall. And then the floor.
“I just hope he doesn’t come back to 10-42,” Bryn says when Celeste is finished cussing the guy out.
It snaps me out of my “should have” fantasies and right back into the room, my eyes zeroing in on her.
“What did you just say?”
She whips towards me, eyes wide, probably not expecting my tone. She stammers, “He—he was there the other night. That’s why he booked in.”
Every thought but one empties from my mind.
Did I just let the arsonist go?