Mish sat at the bar, toying with the edge of her glass, a frown pulling down her glossy red lips. Her shoulders were hunched forward, tension evident. Yup, there were people, both coyly and obviously, watching her. Taking photographs. The bartender came over and said something, and Mish shook her head.
She’d figured out the issue. Probably pretty fast once she’d taken stock of the place. God, it was hard to watch her sitting there, tense and angry. At the world. Maybe at herself, too.
Seemed like no one had the balls to sit next to her. Good…and bad. Because he was about to blow his cover and probably get reamed for it.
But hey, he had balls to go with his dick. Couple sets of them, actually.