Page 45 of Daring the Defender

“Axel.” Her arms cross over her chest and her shirt rises up, showing off the smooth skin around her waist. “Did he send you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Your brother is too focused on Nadia at the moment. I needed dinner and everyone knows the Den has the best wings.”

I pick one up and take a bite, the combination of steam and sauce scalding my tongue. I fake my way through it, swallowing the burning meat down.

“If you say so,” she says warily, like she’s not sure if she can trust me. Smart.

“Since I’m here,” I dip a drumstick into the sauce, “how’s it going?”

“Oh, so now you want to talk about my job?” Her hip juts out and her pink lips make a sexy scowl. “Because back at the Teal House when I needed your help, you had no opinion or interest in defending me to my brother. What happened to helping me try new things?”

I take a gulp of soda, not just to wash down the hot sauce but to buy time because I want to point out that the last time I helped her, I gave her what I’m pretty sure was her first orgasm. Instead I say, “I did you a favor, GG. If I said something either way, Axel would get mad or suspicious, or even more overprotective.”

She sighs. “You’re probably right.”

“So,” I dip into the sauce again, this time with a wing, “how’s it going? Fend off any perverts yet?”

She rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at her mouth. “Just the one.”

I smirk. “I don’t think what happened between us counts as ‘fending’ off anything.”

“Oh my god, stop.” Her cheeks burn bright red and it’s cute as hell.

“Seriously, tho…”

“Overall it’s been pretty good. Just trying to figure everything out, like where everything is stored, or how to use the cash register. Josie’s been training me most of the night, but she had to take a call, that’s why I brought out the food to you.”

“You killed it,” I tell her, reaching for the fries. “And so did Dave back in the kitchen.”

“I’ll let him know, and I’ll refill your glass while I’m back there.” The quick smile she gives me while picking up the empty glass that I’ve drained while eating the hot wings, makes my chest feel tight. And my eyes are glued to her cute butt in those skinny jeans as she turns toward the bar. That’s what I’m focused on when out of my peripheral I see movement. Two of the frat boys have hopped out of their seats and are roughhousing.

“Take that back, dickhead.”

“Not a chance,” the other argues, pushing up his sleeves. “Gretzky’s days as the GOAT are coming to an end.”

“That’s insane. He had sixty-one records when he retired. Onlyfivehave been beaten.” It’s an argument I’ve heard a million times in my life, half of them in this very bar, but this isn’t like every other time, because just as Shelby passes them, the dickhead decides to shove his friend, slamming him straight into her side.

“Oh shit,” I mutter, working my way out of the booth, but it’s too late. Shelby’s knocked off balance and the glass flies out of her hand. The ice hits the floor and in the next step, she slips, crashing to the hard ground. I try to go for both of them. The girl and the glass andfuck.

I get neither.

“GG,” I say, bending down next to her, “are you okay?”

“I-I think so,” she says, sounding a little dazed. Josie runs over to check on her and once I’m sure she’s not hurt, I stand and face the dipshit that did it.

This time, I’m the one pushing my sleeves over my elbows.

“Wilder,” the dickhead says, instantly recognizing me. “I didn’t mean to–”

“You didn’t mean to act like an asshole in a crowded bar and think no one would get hurt?”

“I didn’t see her and we were just messing around.” He holds his hands up and swallows. “Swear.”

“First, this isn’t a fucking playground, but even if it were, your mother didn’t teach you the first rule of life,” I step toward him, “keep your fucking hands to yourself.” He nods vigorously, while his friend does his best to fade into the background. “And second, Gretzky is not just the GOAT, he’s a fucking God. Keep that bullshit out of your mouth.” I jerk my chin toward Shelby. “Apologize. Now.”

The dickhead and his friend both start to apologize–or grovel is more like it. Shelby looks both annoyed and horrified, tugging at her shirt that is now sticky with the dregs of my soda and whatever she absorbed from the floor.

“It’s fine. Just a mistake,” she says to me more than them.

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