Free Undeniable by Alison Kent Page B

same, and she had no reason not to be gracious. “I’m not lookingto hog-tie you, Dax. If you don’t want to see me, or you think I’m looking for more than a good time, there’s no reason for us to be together. And there’s never any reason to run. Contrary to what my girls say, I’m really not a witch.”
    He gave her a wink as he lifted his bottle but said nothing more, letting the music die down, the lights in the dining room come up, the Kittens jump from the bar and get back to their tables. Then all he said was, “This is a hell of a place. I figure you’ve got to be a little bit witchy to run an outfit this size.”
    She laughed. “Don’t tell me I’ve managed to impress”—she stopped herself from saying
a Campbell
and quickly substituted—“you.”
    “Are you kidding?” He nudged his hat up an inch. “Last time I was in here, it smelled like the back end of cows and hard-broken dreams.”
    Broken dreams and broken hearts and broken lives. All of which she’d scoured with bleach and covered with fresh paint in colors of barn red and brick gold and green tomatoes still on the vine. Very little of the Buck Off Bar remained, and only those who knew where to look would see the past.
    She saw it every day. Here and in her house. “There’s always some of that in Crow Hill, but I think we smell a little better now.”
    “Smell better. Look better.” He gave a nod and another glance around. “Both the staff and the customers, not to mention the building. But mostly the owner. Big improvement there.”
    That earned him a smile. “Buck Akers had seen better days before his first birthday. But I’ll take it as a compliment. Thank you.”
    “So what’s with the scaled-back
Coyote Ugly
routine?” he asked, gesturing with his longneck to incorporate the great room. “No chugging booze and setting fires?”
    “We’re more of a family establishment.” Though the last hour before closing had been known to get out of hand—which waswhy seven nights a week, she was the one to lock up. Her investment, her livelihood. She paid with a lack of sleep. “There’s only one dance each evening, and the Kittens rotate who starts it.”
    “Kittens?” he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Not hellcats?”
    Her gaze scanned the saloon, taking in the girls she’d hired. All were from the same small town as she was and close to her in age, but looking at them now, innocent and feisty and button-cute… Lord, she felt like a dinosaur. No, a dinosaur fossil. In fact, she couldn’t remember a day in her life she’d felt like anything but.
    She’d certainly never had the luxury of feeling… kittenish. “Sorry. I’m the only hellcat here.”
    “But you don’t dance?”
    “Are you kidding? I’d be the one to fall and break my neck, and then who’d write the checks for my insurance?”
    He nursed his beer, let that settle, turned his stool so he faced her where she stood at the end of the bar. “So what triggers it? The dancing.”
    “Could be anything. A joke. A birthday celebration.” She shrugged, toyed with a coaster. His gaze was compelling, nudging at personal boundaries, searching for more than he had any business knowing about her. “A rowdy, hands-on customer needing a time-out. Someone drinking from the top shelf.”
    He considered that, crossed his arms on the bar, and leaned closer still. “Tell me something.”
    “Okay,” she said, her skin heating, the small of her back damp and tight, her nape tingling with unaccountable nerves.
    “Why are you still here?”
    “Because I’m the boss. And I have to close up at the end of the night.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t mean here. I mean
here
. In Crow Hill. Why didn’t you leave?”
    Seriously? Did he think everyone who ran into hard times had the luxury of walking out? When he’d split, had he even known what a hard time was? “Because this is my home. Because I had responsibilities.”
    “That’s it?”
    She bit down