Page 56 of Bitter Beats

I grab her hip again, pulling her back against my chest. The moment her back touches my frame, she relaxes. It’s slight, but it’s something, and at this moment, it makes me feel like a warrior. Strong enough to protect her from any threat, even one who shops at Brooks Brothers.

I widen my stance and square my shoulders, wanting to intimidate the hell out of this punk. Uncertainty slashes through his eyes briefly, but he shakes it off with a chuckle that sounds more condescending than scared.

What the hell?

This guy’s got Mckenna on edge. I want to know why.

“Who are you?” I ask, my tone clipped, my expression blank. I won’t give this fucker the satisfaction of reading me. That way, when I come at him, he won’t see it until it’s too damn late. My fingers itch to form a fist and get started.

He gives one of those politician smiles. Smarmy with too many teeth. “Branson Burton.” He holds out a hand.

I glare at it. Ignore it. Jameson snorts.

Branson slips his hand back into his pocket. His grin widens even though his eyes narrow.

He doesn’t like being shown up. And right now, in the center of The fucking Ivy, atThe Burnt Clovers’table, all eyes are on us.

Just the way Kimberly wanted it. I bet she currently regrets that decision.

“Mckenna and I are in law school together,” he tacks on.

“I see,” I say. Even though I don’t. It’s not like Mckenna to panic about seeing a classmate.

He dips his head and starts to move around Mckenna. “We should meet next week to discuss our project. I’ll text you soon, Mckenna.”

He says it like a threat, and my neck snaps back as if he hit me in the face instead of muttered my girl’s name. But his tone, his fucking tone, worms its way under my skin, leaving me as unsettled as Mckenna looks.

She doesn’t reply but remains shell-shocked, frozen against my chest.

“Enjoy your dinner,” I hear her whisper after Branson clears our table.

“The bathroom,” Allegra says, jumping up from her chair.

“I’ll walk h—” I start to say, but Allegra gives me a dirty look.

She links her arm with Mckenna’s and shakes her head. “I’ve got her. We’ll be right back.”

Nodding, I sink wordlessly into my chair, and watch the girls until they disappear down a corridor.

Derek whistles low. “What the fuck was that?”

“Hell if I know,” I mutter, taking a long swig of my wine. Adrenaline still courses through my veins. Anger rushes through my limbs and pulses in my temples. My mind whirls with possibilities to explain Mckenna’s reaction, and each version leaves me more agitated than the last.

Who the fuck is Branson Burton? What does he mean to Mckenna? What history do they have?

“You better find out,” Levi adds.

Jameson nods, taking a pull of his beer. “Yeah, best find out. Whatever it is, you want to get ahead of it.”

Ahead of it?My neck snaps up, and my three bandmates look at me with varying degrees of pity.

“Ahead of what?” I challenge them, wanting to know precisely what they’re thinking.

They can’t possibly think Mckenna dated that douche—can they? Did she?

Instead of responding, they lift their beverages and take long drinks. I polish off my wine in response and refill the glass. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know it’s Kimberly telling me to lay off the booze. I don’t want to see the memes already trending on social media platforms.

Fuck. I grip the back of my neck. Pinch it tightly.

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