Page 19 of Just Bromantically Invested

A woman in a suit, scrolling on her smartwatch, glances up and eyes me. “Are you bothering her?”

I raise my hands to show my innocence while staying in my slouched position. “No. It’s fine. Everyone go about your day.”

“Us? I think you need to leave.”

“Really, ignore me. I’m minding my own business.”

“He’s spying on someone,” the presumed grandma says. Though with this gossipy attitude, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if her family disowned her.

“Spying?” the businesswoman repeats, like an unnecessarily loud echo.

My hands are waving now. “Not spying,” I whisper-hiss. “I’m checking that my friend is okay on his date. See? That’s him there. That’s all. I’m being a good guy here.”

“Your friend?” The woman glances around like she’s looking for someone to back up my story. “Does your friend know you’re here?”

“Well … no,” I answer truthfully, well aware it’s not helping my case. “But he wants me here. I promise.”

“Want me to get security?” the granny asks, looking like she’s ready to punch me in the face.

“No security. No need for that.” Fuck, I’m glad I decided to put my clothes on before I came out, or this would be a thousand times worse. “I’m not hurting anyone. I’m making sure that he’s having a nice time and doesn’t need me to run interference or whatever.”

The woman scowls and silences a call on her watch. “Men.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Run interference? Come on. The woman he’s with is like five six and a hundred and fifty pounds. The only thing you need to interfere with is her hideous boots.”

I tilt my head, a peek of the boots obvious from back here. “I liked them.”

“Take my word for it, they’re outdated and look stupid on everyone.”

“Right …”

The woman steps up to take her drink order that’s just been called, and the second she steps forward, Lana glances my way.

I throw myself after the woman, using her as a shield from Lana’s gaze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she shrieks.

“Shh … I’m hiding.”

“You need to leave. Immediately. Before I call the cops.”

I frown up at her. “Call the cops for what?”

“You’re disrupting people. And making them uncomfortable.”

I’m really,reallyglad I wore my clothes. “You can’t call the police about that.”

Granny’s back. “Want me to do it on my cellular phone?”

“No,” I cut in weakly. “If you do, I’ll tell them you’re harassing me.”

The businesswoman gives me a look. “You’re crouched behind me so the people you’re stalking won’t see you. Who do you think the police are going to believe?”

“Is there a problem?” the barista calls over to us.

Fuck. “No problem!” I dart from the people waiting on orders to hide between one of the shelves of plants dividing the room.

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