Page 20 of The Watcher's Bride

“She doesn’t need your concern,” Max growls.

Mike rolls his eyes and ignores him, addressing me, “We’ve had some reports from customers about a man wearing all black and a ski mask hanging around the area at night. We’re advising people to not walk alone.”

“See? Please take a cab,” Max insists.

“You’ll have a nightmare trying to flag down a cab tonight; there’s some big event in town nearby starting just after we finish, and the roads are gonna be gridlocked,” Mike says, almost proudly, something which confuses me until I hear the next words out of his mouth. “Seeing as your friend here can’t, I’ll walk you home and make sure you’re safe,” he declares smugly.

“No,” Max growls, “I will.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Max, you just said you have plans and can’t. This is the perfect solution. Mike can walk me home,so you know I’m safe. There’s no way I’m going to stop you spending the one night you can with your friends,” I insist.

Max opens his mouth to protest, but I interrupt before he can say anything. “Don’t try to argue. I’m a big girl who can look after herself and decide what I do. If you do, I swear I’ll never let you walk me home again.”

Max must sense that I’m serious, as he reluctantly agrees. “Fine,” he grunts.

“Perfect,” Mike says gloatingly, giving Max one final triumphant look before walking away.

“If you need anything, or if that prick tries anything funny, you call me and I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?” Max says, narrowing his eyes at Mike’s back.

“Max, I—”

“Please, don’t argue with me on this,” he insists.

“I wasn’t going to. I was going to say you’ve never actually given me your phone number.”

“What a grave oversight on my part. Allow me to rectify that,” he says, his voice light and teasing compared to the menace it held when talking to Mike only moments ago.

Instead of pulling out his phone, he grabs a pen. “Give me your hand,” he demands, holding out his own.

“What?”

He doesn’t reply, simply raises an eyebrow and gestures with his fingers for me to do as instructed. I do as I’m told, savoring the skin-on-skin contact and the warmth of his touch,the way it sends little lightning bolts through me. He rolls up my sleeve slightly, flipping my arm over to write his number along my forearm. He delicately places his lips to my wrist when he’s done, and I swear I might faint.

“I could have typed it into my phone,” I say, trying to ignore the marching band inside my stomach.

“Sure, but this way your friend over there will have a nice visual reminder of who you belong to,” he says with a wink.

Sneaky bastard. Somehow, I’m not even mad.

“Call me if you need anything,” he reiterates before leaving.

I spend the rest of my shift with a giant grin on my face, so much so that my cheeks hurt.

“Ready to go, Nor?” Mike says.

“Yep, just grabbing my coat.”

He spots the scrawl of Max’s brand still tattooed on my pale skin and shakes his head. “Hasn’t he ever heard of phones?” he says condescendingly.

Although I pretty much said the same thing, I don’t like Mike talking shit about Max.

“I think it’s cute. We’re too reliant on our cell phones nowadays,” I insist.

“And I think it’s possessive. He might as well have branded you like cattle. This isn’t the fifties anymore. Women don’t want macho bros who treat them like fragile dolls.”

“Oh, and you’re the authority on what women want?” I reply sarcastically.

“Face it, Nora, you wouldn’t be giving this guy the time of day if he was some weedy little guy. You’ve picked up the shiny new book with the striking cover, but halfway through you’ll realize it’s purple prose, all style no substance,” Mike confidently declares.

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