You’d already shifted away from the guy twice, but he just kept moving closer. Then someone slid into the booth beside you, warm and sudden.

“There you are!” Juice said brightly, arm immediately wrapping around your shoulders. His grin was a little too wide, his cheeks a little too pink. “Sorry I’m late, babe.”

He turned to your harasser, still smiling. “She’s with me. You’re… uh… in my spot.”

It wasn’t threatening, but something in Juice’s easy tone still made the other man back off. When he was gone, Juice pulled his arm back quickly. “Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—uh—figured you could use a hand.”