Page 9 of Breakout
I fight the urge to react to his tone. One syllable and I’m ready to jump across the table and let him take me. Fuck anyone around.
“Hey Beck,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Do you guys know what you want to drink?”
Not only do the guys rattle off their order for drinks but for food as well.
“I love you guys for making my life easier.” I sigh, making them laugh.
I don’t miss the flare in Beckett’s eyes as I make the statement before I leave them.
I head to the server station and put their order in as Carl, our bartender, fills their drinks. Once they are on the tray, I head back to them to drop them off.
“All right, we’re kind of slow right now, so your food shouldn’t take too long,” I tell them.
“Awesome,” Brett says as he rubs his hands together.
“Hey, sweetheart, get that fine ass over here. We know what we want,” one of the assholes from the other table says, making the table of hockey guys go tense.
“Easy, guys,” I warn them.
“They shouldn’t talk to you like that,” Beckett says darkly.
“They aren’t the first, and they won’t be the last. It’s part of the job,” I tell him.
“Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t learn a lesson,” he says, cracking his knuckles.
“Save the violence for the ice there, Hayes.” I wink before walking away.
I head over to the table of dickheads and force a smile. “Have you gentlemen decided what you would like to order?”
“Your pussy, right here on the table,” the dickhead who asked if I was on the menu says as he taps the table.
I’m so caught off guard that I miss the sound of scraping chairs behind me, only realizing it when Beckett gently moves me to the side.
“What the fuck did you just say to her?” he demands.
“You fucked up, buddy. I’ve been itching for a fight, and you just gave me a reason,” Brett mutters darkly.
“Beck…” I say, trying to warn him off.
“Don’t,” Wyatt says as he catches me by the shoulders.
“What? Does she belong to you? I don’t see a ring on her finger, and as far as we’re concerned, that means she’s fair game,” Dickhead number one says.
“Yeah, you hockey assholes don’t get to claim all the pussy. Let the rest of us have some,” the asshole who asked if I’m on the menu says.
Beckett steps forward again, and when I see his fist start to draw back, I lunge out of Wyatt’s hold.
“Outside, now,” I hiss as I pull on Beckett’s shirt.
Surprisingly, he listens.
“Peyton, everything okay?”
I look over and see Carl is standing in our way, arms crossed with a frown on his face.
“Actually, no, Carl. Those guys were being disgusting, and this one here decided to step in.”
Carl’s jaw clenches as he nods. “I’ll take care of them, but get him under control. You know the boss man has a no-fighting policy.”
