It’s another reason I’m frustrated by his hesitation. He wants me, and everyone can see that, yet he’s convinced that restraining his desire is the “right” choice. Naturally, I disagree, desperate to make him abandon his self-imposed restraint and give in to what we both want.
“Shep probably feels bad because I got scammed and thought I was renting his cabin for the holidays.” The crowd cheers when the band finishes a song, and I shift closer to Casey so he can hear me. “He was kind enough to let me crash there when the storm hit.”
Casey scratches his forehead. “You’re staying at his cabin?”
“Shep didn’t have much of a choice unless he wanted to explain to the sheriff why a human popsicle ended up in his driveway.” I shudder to think what might have happened if he’d turned me away.
“Damn. He never lets anyone stay the night. On the rare occasion I come by, he won’t let me drink, afraid I’ll have to crash on his couch. The man guards his privacy like a fortress.”
“Because of Danielle?”
Casey’s eyes go round. “He’s told you about her?”
I nod. “He did.”
“That woman was a nightmare who only looked out for herself.” He drains the last of his beer with a frown. “She did a number on Shep when she left. He’s always been reserved, but he used to be more easygoing and relaxed. After Danielle walked out, he withdrew completely.”
I’ve only just met Casey, but I appreciate his genuine affection for Shep. He wants the best for him, and watching Shep suffer has taken its toll.
I respect Shep’s practical side but treasure the glimpses of the carefree man he used to be. It infuriates me that Danielle exploited his generosity, making him jaded. From what I understand, he gave her the world, and in exchange, she walked away thinking she deserved more. The stark truth is that someday, if she hasn’t already, she’ll learn that what she left behind was better than anything waiting for her elsewhere.
“Shep deserves better,” I say.
“Sure does. I’ll tell you, though, I haven’t seen him as happy as he’s been tonight in ages,” Casey adds, nudging my arm with a grin.
I snort. “Right. Nothing sayshappylike threatening to fire people and glaring at anyone who passes.”
“Oh, that’s because he didn’t like how Jake and the other guys were looking at you.” He glances at Jake, who’s walking toward us, sweat dotting his forehead. “Speak of the devil.” Casey shifts to manager mode, straightening his posture as Jake approaches. “Everything okay?”
Jake runs a hand through his hair. “The bar is slammed and orders for Bootylicious Blitzens are multiplying faster than we can pour ’em. Can you help mix drinks while I run to the storage room for more bourbon and peppermint schnapps?”
I giggle. The name is as hilarious as the first time I heard it. Still hard to believe Shep owns a place that serves drinks with silly names and a bustling dance floor.
“You bet. I live for the chance to show folks my expert mixing skills.” He turns to me. “You alright on your own for a bit? Or do you want to sit at the bar while I work?”
I look over at the stage as the musicians resume playing after a short break. “I’m going to take a closer listen to the band.”
“Go ahead, but stay out of trouble, or I’ll be the one in hot water with the boss.” He winks.
“As if he could be any grumpier,” I call back over my shoulder.
I drift along the edge of the room, listening as the band’s lead singer belts out a twangy two-step. Patrons at the tables sing along while couples near the front spin across the floor in time with the music.
Who’d have thought a small town like Pine Haven would be home to a honky-tonk famous enough to draw crowds from across the country? As I listen to conversations around me, I overhear several people say they planned their trip a year in advance to make sure they could stop here for a night of music and dancing. Shep might not care about prestige or status, but transforming this place into a tourist hotspot is impressive.
After several songs, a man I hadn’t noticed before comes to stand beside me.
“Hey there, sweet thing,” he drawls.
The stranger is tall and lanky with messy brown hair and a crooked grin. He’s got that boy-next-door charm, and if I’d met him a week ago, I might have asked him to join me for a drink.But now, the only man who holds my interest is a grumpy silver fox who enjoys a verbal sparring match.
“Hello,” I say politely.
He extends his hand. “Care to dance?”
I offer him a kind smile. “Thanks, but I’m good listening to the band from here.”
He leans in, brushing my arm with his fingers. “Just one dance? I promise I won’t step on your toes.”
