Page 45 of Danger

Charming clinks his bottle against mine. “Uh-huh. Well what you are is five seconds away from dragging those men lookin’ at Winnie to the parking lot.”

I glare at him.

He smirks.

I whisper into my glass, “Shut up.”

Charming watches Sawyer and Trouble. “You know the thing about being broken like us? Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you findsomebody else who sees your damage and somehow likes you for it anyway.”

“Jesus,” I say. “Can we not do poetry in a fucking bar right now?”

But the truth is, I hear him. My brothers know me better than anyone.

I shove the bullshit he’s spewing away because the two men—one built like a feed silo, the other like a string bean—are working up their nerve. I can smell it. Winnie’s running back and forth, got a tray in her hand, black skirt on with just barely enough material to be a technicality.

Charming catches me tensing. “Five,” he says, under his breath.

I cut him a look. “Don’t start with the countdown.”

He leans in. “You know it’s coming. Let’s just enjoy it.”

Silo and his buddy peel away from their table and make a beeline for Winnie.

“Four,” he says.

I see it coming before she does.

Silo leans in. I can’t hear what he says over the music and conversations, but I see his mouth move and that fucking smile spread.

Charming, beside me: “Three.”

Winnie blinks at him, polite but unimpressed.

His buddy—stringbean—says something that makes Silo laugh.

I catch only fragments carried over through the noise: “…pretty thing like you…”

I take a pull from my glass, watching Winnie as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She’s uncomfortable. She points toward Honey—probably explainin’ that she’s gotta get back to work—but the two idiots just grin wider.

Silo looks like he’s trying to process whatever she just said, but it doesn’t click, so he leans in closer, putting a palm flat on the wall so she can’t get through.

Charming whispers, “Two.”

Winnie shifts like she’s trying to back away, but the other one blocks her.

I exhale slowly through my nose, and Charming says, “One.”

I set my drink down harder than I mean to and I don’t remember walking over but I’m there. Silo clocks me first—recognition flickers. Stringbean sees the look on Silo’s face and goes pale.

“You two get the impression she invited you over?”

They freeze.

“’Cause from where I was standing… I didn’t see a damn invitation.”

Silo swallows. “We were just bein’ friendly.”

Stringbean shifts back in his boots, voice small, “We don’t want any problems?—”