“What the hell was that?” Bree demanded, jabbing Trent in the arm. She was carrying her guitar in her left hand so she’d have her strongest hand to assault him with.
“What do you mean?” Trent asked, not even rubbing his arm since she hadn’t hit him hard enough to hurt him. “I was defending you.”
“That’s what the bouncers are for,” she reminded him. “Now, those jerks are going to be outside waiting for us.”
He looked hurt, like she’d inflicted more emotional pain than physical. “I’m sorry, Bree. But I couldn’t let them shout insults at you.”
“He was drunk, Trent. It happens all the time.”
“Well, it shouldn’t. And I’m not going to sit by and listen to someone say things like that to you.”
Now that she saw how passionate he was about it, Bree was a little flattered that he was willing to put himself into harm’s way to protect her. “Thank you, babe, but really, it's not worth it. That guy was so drunk, he probably won’t even remember any of this in the morning.”