You were on your fourth “no” and your patience was gone when a warm Scottish burr curled against your ear.

“There ye are, sweetheart. Thought you’d run off on me.”

Chibs’ arm hooked easily around your waist, his lips brushing your cheek in a quick, playful kiss. He leaned back just enough to give your harasser a grin that was all teeth and no kindness. “She said she’s not interested, mate. You need me to translate that for you?”

The man muttered something and backed away fast. Chibs winked down at you, still holding you close. “Not the worst way I’ve met someone,” he said, chuckling. “Fancy a drink?”