Page 12 of The Only Reason (The Trident Trilogy 2)

“All. The. Time. Everywhere.” Charlie leans back a little in his chair to clear himself out of Millie’s slapping range. “I mean even when you’re not touching, you’re eye-fucking each other.”

“All right. End of discussion,” Millie orders. “Find something else to talk about.”

She stands up and starts walking past me toward the bar.

“I’ll get you another one,” I say as I grab her empty martini glass.

She takes it back. “Thanks, but I can get it.”

I pull her back gently and put my arms around her waist. I rest my head on her shoulder as we both look at the bar.

“Mills. Look at the situation,” I say, pointing at the group of disorderly men that are currently covering every inch of the bar. “Who’s going to have a better chance of getting you a drink without getting touched? You or me?”

“Definitely me,” she says without hesitation. She pulls at my arms to try to release them from around her.

I shake my head and sigh deeply as I release her. “Okay, Miss Independent. Go get ’em.”

She walks confidently to the bar and starts working her way through the drunks. Some douche in a suit immediately grabs her by the shoulder and starts flirting with her.

I watch them for a few minutes until Charlie shoves me. “You notice the suit over there hitting on Millie?”

“Yep.”

“And this restraint you’re showing—is this part of the new give-Millie-more-space initiative?”

“Yes it is,” I say, whistling a long breath out through my teeth.

“And on a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to punch that guy right now?” He laughs as he looks down at my clenched fists.

“Ah, man, I passed ten the second he looked at her. I’m at about five thousand right now. Give or take a hundred.”

“Well your restraint is impressive, brother,” Charlie says, patting me on the back. “You think Millie’s back-off order applies to me, too? Because I am more than willing to go string that guy up by his tie.”

“Sorry, man. I think it applies to anyone who wears a trident on his uniform.”

“That’s too bad.” He pulls up a chair next to me to watch the show unfold.

Millie now has a scrum of drunks talking to her, and despite her best efforts, she hasn’t made it any closer to the bar. She tries to squeeze through two of them, but gets rejected again as they close ranks. She turns slowly to look at me and walks a few steps back toward us.

“Umm,” she says, biting her lip. “I think I might need your help—just a little bit.”

I don’t even try to stop the smile that explodes on my face. “No, babe. You’ve got this. You were only a few feet from the bar.”

“If you’re trying to prove a point with this,” she says, waving her hand in front of my face, “it’s not working.”

“What point could I possibly be trying to prove?” I lean back in my chair and fold my arms, still smiling broadly. “Go on. Go get your drink. You can do it.”

“This is not a good look on you,” she says, pressing her lips together in her best attempt not to smile.

She rolls her eyes at me and whips back around toward the bar—a new determination in her step. She makes it through the first layer of drunks. Since she’s now in the middle of them, I don’t see exactly what happens next, but the crowd parts in time for me to see Millie kneeing a guy in the balls. When he crumples over, she puts her elbow hard into the back of his shoulder. She backs up into a defensive mode—her dress swaying wildly from side to side. Probably not the best outfit for a bar brawl. Before the guy recovers, I grab her around the waist and carry her back to our group.

“Okay, killer,” I say. “That’s plenty.”

Her victim manages to stand upright again. “What the fuck?” he says as he points at Millie. “You need to learn how to take a joke.”

Still holding Millie in one arm, I push him back with the other and then turn calmly toward Chase. I hand Millie to him. “You want to take care of this for me?”

“Yeah. I got her,” he says, grabbing her arm as I put her down. He pulls her behind him and Charlie.

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