Page 6
“Speaking of the devil, ain’t that her at the counter?”
As a table, we turn our heads for a look.
I’ve got my beer bottle halfway to my lips when I do, stopping in the middle of the sip I was about to take. I’m not sure what I was expecting… but it wasn’t this.
It wasn’t a woman who stands out so instantly among the crowded barroom.
She’s sitting alone at the far end of the bar, a drink in front of her that’s hardly been touched. Her attention is on the stage as she watches Haven’s Chicks roll into another song.
It’s obvious she’s good on her own. She’s just fine hanging out alone and enjoying the vibes. An air of confidence you don’t find in most women, let alone most people.
She’s got medium-brown skin and a diamond-shaped face, with features that are hard and soft at the same time.
Soft like her full lips painted crimson. Hard like her dark, upswept eyes that seem intense even from afar. Her short, honey-blonde haircut frames her face, only accentuating these features.
It’s the face of a beautiful but sovereign woman.
…a woman fine being the queen of her own castle.
She’s wearing fitted jeans and a satiny black top, and though she’s seated in a barstool, I can still tell she’s got a knockout figure.
“That’s the new veterinarian?” I say slowly.
Joaquin grins. “Sure is. A looker, right?”
Tension pulls invisible strings inside my chest. “I’ll be right back.”
I’m up on my feet before any of the guys can question me about it.
It takes me some creative maneuvering to make my way over, but thankfully the stool next to her is empty.
“This seat taken?”
Her dark eyes swing over to meet mine, the rest of her face impassive. “That depends. Are you going to offer to buy me a drink and tell me I’m the most beautiful woman in the bar?”
“No need. Ladies do drink free tonight,” I counter. Her eyes narrow half a centimeter as if thrown by my answer. I take it upon myself to slide into the stool beside her. “But the second part applies. It wouldn’t be a lie to say you’re the most beautiful woman in the bar.”
“Pickup lines don’t work on me.”
“Not even ‘what’s your sign?’ That’s a classic.”
She eyeballs me in disbelief, then takes a sip from her cocktail. “Yeah, a real oldie but a goodie.”
I let out a low laugh. “Well damn, you’re not easy to impress, are you?”
“Should I be?”
“Can’t say I blame you,” I admit. I nod at the bartender, letting him know I’d like a fresh beer. “You know, I’ve already heard a lot about you. You’re the new vet at Silver Creek, right?”
“Are you one of the ranch hands?”
I go for a handshake. “Rhett Dawson. Got here a few months ago.”
“Vivica Murphy,” she replies, giving my hand a brief shake. “Got here five minutes ago.”
“So I heard. Thanks for looking after Buttercup. The others told me how good you were with her. Figured I’d come by to thank you.”
“No need. Just doing my job.”
