Page 3 of My Secret Bandit

Almost… mesmerizing.

It sounded so stupid, but that was really the only way to describe his voice. Demanding yet velvety at the same time. The smoothness of it cemented my body in place as goosebumps spread across my skin.

“Now,” he growled, his focus pinned on the group of guys.

With his back to me, my eyes lingered on him. The most noticeable—because of their size, or maybe because they were just above eye level—were wide, thick shoulders, rounded with muscle. Well-defined arms stretched the sleeves of a thin cotton shirt. Dark curls peeked out from the rim of a backward fitting cap. The dark golden skin along his neck looked like rich toffee and probably smelled just as nice.

Squinting in shame, I tugged Sierra again. She gave an inch, only to retract it as the shaggy blonde spoke up.

“I’m sorry, man. I was—we—we’re just having fun and look, she’s fine. I’m sure she’s heard worse.” Face fixed with a drunken half-smile proved he couldn’t grasp that his choice of words inched him closer to being knocked out. If not by this giant ass stranger, then definitely Sierra. Anger trembled through her as I held on.

“That’s what you consider fun?” His body went rigid. Both hands curled into tight fists. Straightening to full height, he took a step toward the group.

Feeling attention on us, I noticed most of the crowded restaurant tuned into our drama like their favorite soap opera. Phones focused on the men ahead. My face blazed with embarrassment and then anger. Recording fights—instead of stepping in or oh, I don’t know, minding your own fucking business—ranked high on my list of pet peeves.

I pulled on Sierra’s hand again, but she’d never leave this place without an apology. Especially one she thoughtIdeserved.

With more eyes drawn toward us, self-consciousness burrowed into every pore along my skin.

And it’s all because of me. My body.

“Fuck this fat bitch bullshit. I’m getting another drink.”

A guy in the back of the group moved for the bar, and the bite of his words lasted the millisecond it took to notice the man’s body stalking toward him.

I didn’t realize I followed until one fist curled around the guy’s collar and his other cocked back, ready to strike.

Right then I stopped thinking.

Stopped repeating the insults.

I heard only him.

Saw only him. Scarily calm as he prepared to punch this guy…for me.

“Don’t,” I whispered, pushing into the space between them. My hand moved on its own, catching his forearm.

“Please don’t,” I repeated. Forcing my sight up, I watched his chest take in a steady breath. Watched his shoulders relax by a fraction, then locked eyes with the only man who’d ever stood up for me.

The dazzling dark hazel complemented his complexion to perfection. A ring of green along the outside stood out, melded with browns and golds in the middle, and popped against the contrast of his long black lashes. His cheekbones high, jaw strong and sharp below subtle dips along his cheeks I’d bet turned into swoon-worthy dimples if he smiled.

The fist once clenched around the forgotten shithead’s collar turned gentle. Sliding from its place on my shoulder to the bend of my elbow, it tightened as he pulled me into him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t, honestly, as my breath caught in my throat. Instead, I backed away, unable to stand the heat of his body.

His eyes softened as my skin slipped from his. The genuine concern in them branded my soul. His gaze danced over my face, my body. The tiniest hint of a smirk appeared once he spotted the goosebumps he’d caused.

It took a second, but he forced his eyes away from me and toward the group. “Apologize to her. Now.”

Just scared enough, the shaggy guy gave in. “I’m sorry.We’resorry. We’re drunk. It was offensive,“ he said, his voice sober for the first time.

Sierra pushed past us, yelling as she moved forward, “Lemme show you offensive, you piece of shit! Shove that half-assed apolo—“

“Please take care of her.”

He nodded once.

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