Clyde felt the heat of a glare burning into his side. He braced himself. He had already annoyed Micah enough today. One more thing, and Micah might blow.
He turned, sure enough, Micah was glaring at him with eyes like sharpened glass. Clyde stepped toward him slowly, one brow raised in mild curiosity, or maybe amusement.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice as always calm and low.
Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Micah interrupted, his voice full of anger.
"You should be grateful your friends and nephews are here," he hissed, stepping forward, face flushed red. "Otherwise, I would have kicked your ass!"
Clyde blinked. "Oh?" The corner of his lips stretched upward. "Why?"
"Wipe that look off your face!" Micah jabbed a finger at his chest. "You liar! You knew who I was from the start and pretended you didn't."
"Knew you?" Clyde leaned slightly forward.
