conversation, sitting next to his brother with a beer in her hand. “In fact, she and Cecelia are here tonight with me and Nick.”
“Oh, good.” Relief colored Abby’s tone. “Could I ask a favor? Keep an eye on her? She went through a pretty bad breakup last month, one that none of us in the family understand, because the guy she was dating seemed perfect for her.”
As if babysitting Nick wasn’t bad enough. “Ah, look, Abs, I don’t think it’s my place—”
“I’m not asking you to spy for me. Just make sure she doesn’t do anything…stupid. Please?”
Dean blew out a breath. He couldn’t say no to Abby. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Seconds later, Dean had shoved his cell phone into his pocket when the sound of shattering glass caught everyone’s attention.
He turned and found one of the waitresses standing toe to toe with Shelby over an upturned tray and broken beer bottles on the floor. He wondered for a moment if they were going to go from shooting evil glances to swapping right hooks, but then Shelby seemed to check herself and took a step back.
“Well, someone is getting lucky tonight.” Shelby’s voice rang out as she bent down to grab a couple of the broken bottles, holding them aloft in concession to the cheers and laughter from the crowd before tossing them into a nearby trash bin. “At least lucky enough to get a beer on the house.”
Dean fought the urge to help her clean up the mess. Especially after the waitress only grabbed her tray and went back to a nearby booth.
Shelby spotted him and the foot he’d put forward shuffled back. The message in her gaze was loud and clear.
Back off.
He turned instead to join his friends, taking the empty chair next to Jazzy. Nick and Cecelia were on the crowded dance floor with separate partners. Dean angled the chair to face the bar. Yeah, so he could keep an eye on Shelby and no, he didn’t know why, but something about her tugged at him.
Moments later, she emerged with a tray full of beers for the cowboys at a nearby table. Chatting with the group, she even allowed one of the men to trail his fingers along her forearm before stepping back with that same aloof smile for the interloper she’d given to him.
When she turned around, she caught him watching.
Her eyes narrowed for a moment and Dean wondered if he should be the one to look away. However, Shelby simply spun on the heels of her cowboy boots and made her way back to the bar.
Dean downed half of his beer before he noticed the growing pile of scraps on the table. “You determined to peel that off in as many pieces as possible?” he asked Jazzy, watching her pick apart the silver label with her fingernail. “I thought the object was to remove it in one—”
“Don’t start, Dean. Not tonight.” Her grip tightened on the bottle, but then she swiped a hand across one cheek.
Ah, damn. Tears. “You okay?”
“Just dandy.”
He thought back to what Abby had just told him. “Want to talk about it?”
She flipped a long blond curl over one shoulder and then looked directly at him, her eyes now dry. “As a matter of fact, I don’t, but thanks for asking.”
Boy, he was doing worse than the Rockies, who were getting beat up by the Atlanta Braves to the tune of a dozen unanswered runs. “How about we dance instead?”
Jazzy placed her drink back on the table. “No, thanks. I just want to sit here, okay?”
Dean nodded. “Okay, but if you need someone to talk to—”
“You’re a good friend, Dean.” Jazzy leaned in close and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. “But please shut up.”
Doing as he was told, Dean leaned back in his chair, his gaze automatically going to the pretty bartender.
His brother’s words about Shelby played again in his head. There was no way those rumors could be true. Not with the way she’d dismissed him. And why did he even care that she looked at him as if he wasn’t much more than something she needed to scrape off the bottom of her boots?
Chapter Two
Typical man. Never satisfied with what’s right in front of him.
Shelby Jenkins could be thinking about any of the male patrons at the Ace in the Hole tonight, but no, the man who continued to occupy her thoughts, even a day later, was Dean Pritchett.
All because she’d caught him looking her way more than once last night.
Despite the fact he’d had a pretty girl practically sitting on his lap, kissing him. The same pretty girl he’d left with a few hours later.
Okay, so Shelby would admit she’d been looking at him first when their gazes had met in the mirror behind the bar, but only because she had finally counted the money he’d left behind on the counter when he, his brother and their friends had moved to a table.
A 100 percent tip on a bar tab for four beers?
Her first thought had been to give the cash back to him. She was well aware of the many barroom games and Shelby wasn’t interested in being a player.
Or being played.
Then again, her bank account needed every dollar she managed to squirrel away and if the handsome blond cowboy thought a hefty tip was going to score points, she had no problem letting him think that way.
Or setting him straight if he tried to use his generosity to his advantage.
Shelby looked over the dwindling Friday night crowd as closing time approached, automatically double-checking the beer taps to make sure they were shut down. Last call had been twenty minutes ago and she was already deep into her nightly routine, knowing all the necessary steps by heart.
Being eighteen and needing a job that kept her days free, she’d started working at the Ace in the Hole as a waitress. Moving behind the bar a couple of years later had been a breeze as she’d easily picked up the necessary skills watching the other bartenders and practicing after hours.
Along the way, she’d also learned a few hard lessons about hooking up with a random cowboy or two. After two attempts at human companionship failed even before the first dates ended, Shelby decided casual sex just wasn’t for her. She didn’t enjoy being a means to an end.
Besides, once they found out she wasn’t as wild and unattached as they first thought, their interest in her vanished quicker than morning dew. So, being lonely was something she’d learned to deal with.
She’d suspected the Pritchett boys had been talking about her long before the ladies joined them, especially after the way Dean had held tight to her hand when they were introduced, but she never let on. She was used to the gossip—it’d been tailing her since she was sixteen—but it made her sad that even newcomers seemed to judge her.
Then again, Dean had almost come to her rescue last night when Courtney, one of the
