“Yes.” The valet fidgeted in front of the truck door. “You haven’t been in there very long and you seem a little, uh—” Though Clint tried to stand patiently and wait until the valet moved, he found himself suddenly tipping sideways. But only his top half. He managed to catch himself by grabbing onto the side of the truck, which left him pressed against the valet. “Sorry about that,” Clint slurred. The valet whimpered. “Did I hurt you?” Clint pushed himself back to a standing position. He gripped the side of the truck bed to help him stay stabilized. “No,” the valet croaked. “I’m fine.” “Great.” Clint looked at him meaningfully. When he didn’t move, Clint added, “So, I need to go.” Still nothing from the valet. “And you’re blocking the door.” “You’re really muscular.” Clint stared.
