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She shook her head. No, she wasn’t thinking about that. She had pushed it to the back of her mind and it was staying there. She had dealt with it. She had survived it. That was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?
But had she survived it, really? She was still hiding. She was still keeping herself locked in her work as though each minute meant success or failure. And it didn’t. Not anymore.
She had built a life for herself. In the past two years, she had picked up some great contracts within the business she was in. She didn’t have to worry about going hungry, and she didn’t have to worry about losing her home—her uncle Martin had made certain of that. She never had to worry about that again.
So why was she standing here like a lost puppy?
Because she didn’t know how to have fun. She’d been to the bar before, but no one even asked her to dance. She had joined the business club in town, but they only met once a month and they rarely did anything but talk about how small the community was, and how high taxes were, and how the good jobs were closer to Corpus Christi.
Maybe a small town really was a bad idea. She had thought she would find it easier to fit in here; she hadn’t expected it to be harder.
It was Friday night. She had a steak and a potato waiting. At least she had a few good books to go with it.
* * *
Cooper strode around the bar a week later, his eyes narrowed against the smoke and gloom, watching for drugs more than anything else. He had only a few hard, firm rules in his place. They fought in the parking lot if they wanted to use their fists. No one hit a woman, whether she was a lady or not. And no one, but no one, dealt in his place.
His bartender, an ex-Ranger like himself, was holding down the bar with the help of one of the local college kids. The boy was a hard worker, eager to learn. There were two other bouncers, ex-Rangers as well, and as hard and tough as any Cooper knew, despite their medical discharges from the service. They were all termed “disabled vets.” But his men were as hard and as efficient as they had ever been in the military. Maybe just not as fast, he thought with a grin.
The Broken Bar was one of the most popular spots in the area and the only bar. Most weekdays were busy, but the weekends could turn into a madhouse if they weren’t careful.
The band on the other end of the cavernous building was belting a slow country tune and couples were circling the floor. There was the usual assortment of bikers, college kids, and general barhoppers.
Motioning to the closest bouncer, he indicated the other man should take his spot as Cooper headed back toward the bar. As he did, he nearly came to a full-blown, hard stop.
Hell. No, he didn’t need this. Not after seeing her naked, aroused, and unsatisfied.
There, standing in the doorway like a wary angel, was his intrepid little neighbor. And she wasn’t wearing a dress. Or a skirt. She was wearing jeans that made her legs look like the best wet dream a man could have. Low on the hips, belted over a sleeveless blouse that was buttoned damned near to the neck, and over boots.
And her hair was down.
He felt a hard strike of jealousy at the sight of the men whose eyes found her, lusted for her, worshiped those long, wild curls.
Shit. How the hell was he supposed to get her out of here this time? This was not the place for Miss Sarah.
Pushing the fingers of one hand through his hair in irritation, he moved toward her, cutting through the room on a diagonal path as she headed for the bar.
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Didn’t she know the scum she could find in a damn bar? What the hell was she doing here?
And it should be damned illegal for a woman to move like that in a pair of jeans. Like they were loving every step she took in them. Like they were hugging her shapely little ass with possessive hands.
Son of a bitch.
“Hi.” She smiled at his bartender. Jake damned near dropped the bottle of whisky he was holding. “Could I have a whisky, straight?”
Jake’s brown eyes flickered over her. Yeah, she didn’t look the whisky type.
“I have some wine coolers back here,” Jake offered. “Fruity ones.”
Cooper almost laughed at Jake’s floored expression.
“No.” She shook her head and Cooper caught her expression in the mirror behind the bar. She was one determined lady. “Just the whisky, please.” Then she named her brand. “If you have it?”
Damned expensive. Oh yeah, they had it.
Cooper moved to the end of the bar, next to the stool she had snagged, leaned his forearms on it, and stared at her silently as she turned to him, her eyes widening just a little bit.
