2
Nancy sipped her IPA with a poorly hidden grimace.
“Want to trade?” Wyatt asked, pushing his glass across the table.
She looked at his drink with suspicion. “What’s it taste like?”
“Beer flavored water,” he admitted. “But it’s definitely not as bitter as what you ordered.”
She swapped their glasses and took a sip out of his. The wrinkle of her brow, as if she was confused about the taste, amused him. “It’s like… generic beer flavor, I guess.”
“Yeah. I’m not exactly a pro when it comes to ordering these things.”
“This isn’t setting up for a promising apology dinner,” she chided. “If my steak is frozen in the middle, we’ll probably never talk again.”
He didn’t respond. A man outside the window behind Nancy was staring into the restaurant with a strange amount of interest. Wyatt met
