33
Cutter swallowed the black and tan, the dark malt slid down his throat with smooth thickness. He lightly squeezed Angie’s hip. A faint whistle called to him, from behind the bar. Semi, who was tending bar, slanted his head toward the clubhouse door, and Cutter swiveled around to get a better view. His fingers stiffened around his frosted pint glass.
Greta stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes shadowed. Her defiant stance both challenged and aroused him in turn. A faint smile played on his lips. She was upset because he was with another woman. f**k yeah, she deserved it.
Angie had noticed Greta but didn’t question him. Didn’t even sneak a peek his way, unlike the woman who was casting him the evil eye from across the room. He nudged Angie off his lap, and took his sweet old time
