Jamie took a drink of his beer before shrugging. “It was more like thirty minutes.”
“Eight max, my friend. And you bitched the entire time.”
The table erupted in laughter.
A few minutes later, Giselle and Ryder wandered over, borrowed a couple of empty chairs from a nearby table, and joined them. The ranch hands swapped stories about chasing a calf through three pastures that afternoon, though according to Jamie, the animal possessed the strategic brilliance of a military commander.
Seth leaned closer so she could hear him over the noise filling the room.
“You okay?”
“Tired,” she admitted, taking a sip of her wine. “But good.”
His gaze lingered on her face for another second, warmth softening his expression. Then he leaned over and brushed a quick kiss across her lips.
Before either of them could say anything, Ryder launched into an enthusiastic explanation of how he'd worked the Rodeo Bonanza vendor schedule to his advantage. He'd happily signed up for extra hours at Bar None's booth—but not during the set by an up-and-coming country band he refused to miss.
Lou had already told the staff to sign up for extra shifts that weekend, which meant extra money. A few days earlier, that would've been all Shylo cared about.
Now every plan seemed to come with Troy attached. He'd given her five days to confront Shane, which meant it was highly unlikely she'd still be there for the rodeo.
She took another sip of her wine and let herself watch the comfortable rhythm of the room. Dean, Alyssa, and Lou never missed a beat behind the bar. Customers laughed. Glasses clinked. Somewhere in the game room—where the pool table, dartboard, and pinball machine were—cheers erupted over one of them.
For a little while, everything felt wonderfully ordinary.
Then she glanced toward the bar.
Her hand froze with the glass halfway to her lips.
A man stood three stools from the end closest to the front door, his shoulders angled toward a woman Shylo didn't recognize as he leaned in close to her. The brim of his cap shadowed part of his face, but she knew the line of his jaw and the smug curve of his mouth when the woman laughed.
Troy.
The surrounding noise seemed to fade beneath the pounding of her pulse. He wasn't supposed to be there. She'd told him to stay away from Bar None and had practically handed him the Last Chance Saloon, saying he'd like it better.
Of course, he'd ignored her.
The asshole had never met a boundary he didn't view as a challenge.
“Shylo?”
Seth's voice pulled her back.
She pulled her gaze from Troy, but not before she caught him following her line of sight.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The lie escaped before she could stop it. She set her glass on the table, hoping no one noticed the slight tremor in her hand. “I thought I recognized someone.”
His expression remained thoughtful.
“Who?”
She swallowed hard.
Across the table, Jamie was still arguing with one of the ranch hands that the runaway calf had outsmarted all of them on purpose. Behind the bar, Lou grabbed another bottle while Dean shouted for the bar-back to bring up another case of beer from the basement.
The rest of the bar carried on as though nothing had changed.
