Page 22 of The Lair

“Fine.”

Feeling an immense sense of accomplishment, I give him a thumbs-up before going back to my tables and telling Charlie we’ll be on our own for a bit.

Ten minutes deep into the chaos that is running The Lair without Travis’s extra help, a guy flags me over to their table.

“What can I get you?” I ask with a smile.

After months of bartending, I have grown quite the thick skin when it comes to dealing with drunk people—mostly men—and their flirty natures. Flirty is better than aggressive, so I’ll take it even if they still make my skin crawl.

Yet nothing could’ve prepared me for this guy to wrap an arm around my shoulders and press me against his sweaty side.

“I don’t need anything else now that you’re here,” he drawls, the alcohol on his breath all the more evident now that he’s so close.

“Mike,” one of the women at the table warns.

I send her a grateful look and swiftly slither my way out from under his arm. I smile to be polite, but I’m struggling to find any of this funny at all.

“I’m working right now. What can I get you?” I ask again.

The drunk man, Mike, pouts at me. A grown man, pouting. “How about when your shift ends? We can go somewhere, you and I.”

“I’m not interested,” I tell him, my voice losing all traces of politeness.

“Oh, burn.” One of his friends at the table laughs.

The woman is still glancing at me, an apologetic look in her eyes. She turns to Mike. “I think it’s time to call it a night and stop bothering Travis’s employees, don’t you?”

Mike tsks before giving me a once-over, that sly smile back on his face. “Come with me to the karaoke machine. We’ll have a good time.”

I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I don’t lash out as I maybe should. Instead, I ask the table in an even voice, “Did you want anything?”

“I think he wants his fucking teeth knocked out,” a familiar voice says behind me. A deep, rough voice that makes my heart skip a beat. “Don’t you, Mike?”

The next thing I feel is a gentle hand on my elbow, guiding me away from the man who looks like he’s just peed his pants a little. I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it.

A shiver travels down my spine, and my brain shifts all its attention to that warm hand on my skin. A hand that belongs to a man who has been coming to my rescue one too many times recently.

Towering over me in all his ex-Navy SEAL glory, Travis stares down at Mike as if he already knows how to get rid of his body.

“Sorry, man.” Mike backs down, considerably paler, as his eyes pinball between me and my boss. “Didn’t know she was yours.”

His?

With Travis’s body against mine, it’s impossible to miss the tension in his wide shoulders or his strong yet gentle grip on my arm, but not a single part of me feels threatened right now. Not by Asshole Mike and certainly not by Travis’s closeness.

If anything, the latter makes me feel shielded.

He tips down that handsome face to look at me, his eyes asking me what his words won’t.Are you okay?

Only when I give him a small nod does he turn to Mike.

“Get the fuck out of my bar.”

The other people around the table say nothing. One of the guys sends Mike a death glare, which he misses since he’s too busy gaping at my boss. “The fuck, man?”

“You mess with my staff, you get the fuck out.”

His staff.

---