Free Do Him Right by Cerise DeLand Page A

think she could find anything different? Especially with a man she had
deceived. A man she loved beyond reason.
    “You feeling okay, honey?”
    She nodded, faking a smile. She let him lead her inside.
    Chet headed them straight for the long bar where the Friday
night crowd was a mix of couples and singles on the make. Some were red-faced
from alcohol or dancing, and most all were boisterous and jovial.
    “Hey, Chet! Shana!” a tall, dark figure, hoisting a beer
bottle, cut through the crowd, and Shana recognized Troy Mallard, the owner of
the B&B where Shana lived.
    “Oh, shit.” Chet winced. “He’s drinking.”
    “That’s not good?” she asked Chet.
    “Never.”
    “Why?” she wanted to know but Chet had no time to answer as
Troy appeared before them. She could see what Chet meant because Troy’s brown
eyes were bloodshot, half closed and his smile, beautiful as it might have
been, wobbled. “Hello, Troy.”
    “Glad to see you brought her around, Chet.” Troy ogled Shana’s
breasts in her white shirt. “We need to see pretty ladies here.”
    Chet pursed his mouth. “Yeah, well, we have got to do our
public duty here, Troy.” He took Shana’s arm. “Let’s get you a drink, honey,
then we can go around and say hello to folks.” He ordered a beer for Shana and
a nonalcoholic beer for himself.
    “Still drinking that panther piss?” Troy taunted Chet.
    Shana, who had never seen her uncle drink and praised him
for it, glanced up at Chet who flexed his jaw, fighting anger.
    “I’m good with this, Troy.” Chet stepped farther down the
bar and pulled Shana with him.
    “Sure you are.” Troy followed them. “Where you goin’? You
could stay here and talk to me for a while, Chet.” He pulled himself up to his
full six-foot-plus height in challenge.
    But Chet still topped him in inches and sobriety. “Another
time, Troy. We’ve got work to do.”
    “Is that what you’ve been doin’?”
    The words were a taunt at the least and a slur at the most.
    Chet swung to face the other man. “Don’t do this, man. Do
not say another word.”
    “Why? You want to make sure she doesn’t hear what a pussy
you can be?”
    Chet leaned over. “That is enough, Troy. Did you come with
anyone? Jack or Paul Dobson?” He was looking over the top of the crowd.
    “No, I came alone. So what’re you gonna do about it, huh,
Chet boy? Can’t even stand here and talk to me. That’s cuz you rodeo boys think
I’m a nobody. A cripple.”
    Chet considered Troy with warm compassion. “Stop this. You
know I think nothing of the sort. And you shouldn’t be drinking.”
    “Oh yeah, sure, sure. How about if I take over for you, you
teetotaler, and show Miz Shana here a good time? We know she likes to fuck.”
    Over the noise of the crowd and the music, those around them
heard the last word and paused, looked at Troy, glanced at Chet and moved away.
Shana stared at Troy, stunned that this kind man could be so insulting.
    Chet, his face blazing red, murmured his excuses to her and
grabbed Troy’s arm. “Come with me.”
    “No!” He ripped away from Chet’s hold. Straightening his
shirt, he leered at Shana. “I want to dance with her. You gonna stop me?” He
whirled and clamped an arm around Shana’s waist.
    His strength caught her off guard and she put a hand to his
chest. “Troy, stop! I thought we were friends.”
    “Yeah.” He got in close to whisper in her ear, pulling her
close and squeezing her ass. “So you gonna give me a little dance and a kiss
and a piece of what you’re giving to Chet?”
    She gasped and shrank backward. What frightened her was not
the lust she saw on Troy’s face, but the fury she saw on Chet’s. “No, don’t hit
him.”
    For a second, Chet scowled at her.
    Shana had seen rage like that before. On her father’s face.
Her mother’s. And Chet’s four years ago when he’d railed at the rodeo judges.
She staggered backward. Someone righted her.
    Chet stepped up behind Troy, his jaw