Page 2 of Wrapped in Perfection

The bartender nods and grabs glasses and the bottles.

The man takes a sip of his beer then stares at the game on the television.

"What's the score?" I ask. I don't care, but Boris places bets on all the big games.

"Don't know. I've had to deal with shit all day," the man replies. He's dressed up, and I assume he's here because of the wedding reception upstairs.

"You part of the wedding?"

He scoffs and continues staring at the screen. "If you want to call it that."

I'm not sure what it is about him, but I don't like him. It's not his scowl. I know plenty of men who have the same look. But my gut is telling me he's a douchebag.

Bernie sets everything on a tray. "Sally should be in soon to wait on you guys."

"We're good. Thanks."

I throw a hundred down, tell him to keep the change, and spin with the tray in my hand.

"Oh, sorry!" The sex kitten from earlier jumps.

I check her out again, and she blushes, redder than earlier. "Not a problem."

"Sit, Anna," the man orders, as if she's a dog.

She's with him?

Anna.

My distaste for him grows.

Her face falls. She opens then closes her mouth. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. "We need to go upstairs, Mitch."

"We aren't going until the game is over." He chugs several mouthfuls of his beer.

She bites her lip and quietly replies with a shaky voice, "But everyone is already there."

He spins on the barstool and, in a nasty voice, demands, "Sit your fat ass down."

She looks at the ground and blinks hard, her cheeks staining pink with embarrassment.

I put the tray of drinks down. "Don't talk to a lady that way," I growl. I shouldn't say anything. It's not my business. I don't need to get involved in this. There's a meeting going on and it should be my only focus.

Maybe it's the mix of how the meeting is going, my distaste for him, and the look on her face that makes me butt in. I usually steer clear of any domestic drama.

Anna's eyes widen.

Mitch spins and rises. "Keep your nose out of my business." He's not as tall as me or quite as built. My guess is I could take him out in one punch.

Not in front of her.

You don't need trouble. Walk away.

I lean closer to him. "My suggestion is you take your beer and move along to your party."

He steps closer. "What are you going to do about it?"

I glance at Anna. Her lip is trembling. I look back at Mitch. "I'm going to take these drinks to my brothers." I nod so he can see them. I could take him out myself, but a little intimidation never hurt. "When I finish, if you haven't escorted your woman upstairs, we'll be having a different discussion." Acknowledging she's his makes my stomach clench.

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