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It’s not a lie. We all play our part behind the bar. Elsie has her cropped shirts and tattoos. Rob has his lip piercing and glacier-blue eyes. And I’ve got my short shorts, boots, and hat. Sure, it’s the same kind of thing I wore around the family ranch, but now it feels more like a costume. A reminder of a part of my life I no longer fit into.

Will’s eyebrows pinch, confused, so I turn the conversation back to them.

“What are you guys up to tonight if the goal is don’t have fun? You do realize you came to a bar, don’t you?” I refill the olives, trying not to stare too long at Shane, whose dark eyes won’t stop tracking my every movement. “It’s Saturday night. A band is playing in a few minutes. Don’t tell me you came here to work.”

Shane smirks, watching me with such intensity I can hardly think. “We’re catching up.”

“Ah yes, catching up. Like those guys over there?” I angle my chin to a table at the back of the bar, where three ranchers are deep in conversation, not enjoying themselves the slightest bit, while occasionally eyeing Shane and Will.

“Something like that.” Shane stares at them until they look away.

I don’t blame them when whatever darkness stirs in his eyes is impossible to ignore.

“I’ve got a better idea.” I scan the bar, pausing when I spot a few girls from the bachelorette party dancing at the center. One of them has to be my brother’s type. “I refuse to have you sit at my bar working. If you get up and talk to those girls over there, your drinks are on me tonight.”

Will and Shane glance over at the group of miniskirts and cowboy boots at the center. Each one is more stunning than the last. And even as my stomach sours when Shane looks them over, I don’t take it back. It’s better he’s distracted by anyone else before I lose my willpower and do something foolish—like throw myself at him.

“Drinks are on you either way, sis.” Will turns back to me. “Perks of this being a family bar.”

“It’s not his family,” I argue, pointing at Shane. “So be a good friend or just play along. I’m doing you a favor. I happen to know the redhead in the center is obsessed with you.”

Will looks over his shoulder again, catching gazes with her.

I have no idea if that girl is actually obsessed with my brother when I don’t even know who she is, but there isn’t a girl in this town who hasn’t looked at one of my brothers at some point, so it’s not a total shot in the dark.

When the redhead catches him staring, she smiles, confirming I was right.

“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” Will looks away.

“You have an early morning every morning.” I eye Shane for help. “Come on, show him how it’s done. My brother desperately needs a date, and you know what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” He hitches an eyebrow.

I lean on the counter, bringing us close—a little too close when I get a hit of his cologne. He smells like chestnut and leather. Inviting and dangerous.

“Are you actually going to try and convince me you don’t know how to hit on a girl, Shane Donovan? Your tattoos and tight T-shirt do half the work for you. So excuse me if I have a very hard time believing this is a struggle.”

He grins, leaning so close I can feel the heat of him. “Oh, don’t worry. I know exactly what I’m doing, cowgirl.”

My throat tightens. Blood rushes to my cheeks. I can barely hear the music with my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I manage to stand up tall and force a smile that hides the fact that all I can think about is him using those skills on me.

With a small shrug, I angle my chin at the group of girls. “Prove it.”

Shane’s smirk is downright wicked. He doesn’t break my stare as he takes a sip of beer, finishing it off. He stands, sliding the empty bottle to me, and our fingers brush as I take it.

If he feels the static, he doesn’t let it show.

Shane nudges Will’s shoulder, performing a miracle by convincing my brother to follow him. And while it should be a win when they cross the bar and are instantly swallowed up by the group of girls, there’s a twinge in my chest as one of them smiles at Shane.

And he smiles back.

7

HARLOE

By the time the night ends and we’re done cleaning the bar, my hair is in a lopsided knot, and I’m a sweaty mess. Saturday night has a way of reminding me why I usually take Sunday off because all I want to do is shower and sleep for the next twelve hours.

Elsie and Rob head to their cars while I lock up the bar. But when I turn the corner into the alley, a familiar figure stands there, leaning against his bike.