Page 94 of Whispers of Wisteria
“Let go.”
I blinked up at the new person as I tried to get my breath under control. He was tall and clean-cut in an olive shirt and jeans. He had short, light brown hair, and his honey-brown eyes narrowed on the man still holding on to me.
“Who the hell are—”
“I said to let go.” The newcomer must have done something because, suddenly, I was free.
I pulled my hand to my chest as the tension in my shoulders began to loosen.
Bryce’s associate stood. “What the fuck, man?”
“Walk away.”
“I don’t need to—”
“Now,” my savior snapped. Something tight moved through the air—similar to when Bryce was trying to boss me around. But I now recognized it for what it was: fae magic.
Bryce’s business associate cursed as he glared at him, then stalked out of the coffee shop.
The fae man glanced at me. “You okay?”
My breathing was still off, but “Y-yeah.”
“Good.”
And then he walked away before I could even say thank you.
What…
My pulse was fluttering, and my head was spinning.
What was that?
I must have lost track of time. I was startled when, this time, it was Anthony who was suddenly sliding into the recently vacated seat.
“What’s up?” he asked. “Whatcha staring at?”
For a second I considered telling Anthony what’d happened. Then my logic returned. I needed to go to Bryce about this first—Lord only knew what he’d been up to. I didn’t want to accidentally get him in trouble.
I shook my head, trying to ground back into myself. “N-nothing. A ru-rude guy was here, but he went away.”
He paused, smile slipping slightly, as he studied my face. “What happened?”
Still, I hesitated. Anthony was in his quintet—maybe he should know. Bryce could need help.
But…
I didn’t want to overstep.
I spotted the book, cover facing up with the title on full display, and my fear vanished.
It would be too embarrassing for anyone to know that I read this trash.
“Nothing important,” I squeaked, flustered. I snatched the book off the table and shoved it in my bag. “Besides, it’s fine now.”
I looked back at him—it felt like ages since we’d last spoken. “How—how’s everything with you?”
“Well—” Anthony studied me, suspicious, but played along. “I was waiting for Brayden, and you looked lonely.”
