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“Mmmm, I wonder what would be first,” she mused and angled her head slightly, which drew his attention to the low dip in the unusual sweater she wore. The color glowed in the low, golden lighting of Grey’s and set off her creamy skin and flaming hair that tumbled down her back in shiny waves that made him want to bury his fingers in all that fire and burn. The soft knit skimmed her curves and teased him with a plunging neckline but a demure bow tied at her waist.

Bodhi was not the only mesmerized cowboy in the bar, but Bowen had moved to give him room and now talked to Luke Wilder and a few others. Beck had gotten tangled up with a sad and tipsy blonde looking for a man to help her forget something tonight.

Idiot.

Bowen was going to have to ride rescue on that. Beck was too good-hearted and naïve. Years with Ashni who worshipped him and had his interests at heart had blinded him to the machinations of the opposite sex.

“Maybe listening ranks third or fourth?” The mystery woman’s regard wasn’t overtly sexual, but it sure felt like it.

“You think there’s a list of my attributes?”

“Bound to be. Maybe like athlete player cards. Or Pokémon. Women in town can meet for coffee or wine at the Graff and trade cowboy cards and secrets.”

“Hey now,” he drawled, a little stung.

“I guess where listening falls on the list would be up to the list maker, as would the ranking of your other attributes.”

“I’m listening.”

He saw her nervous swallow along the long, creamy line of her throat.

“Where would listening fall on your list?” he asked.

She drew in a deep breath, thinking, and he kept his gaze on her face. A woman that beautiful probably had guys coming on to her all the time, already imagining the goods naked, pawed, and writhing under them. He wanted to be different. And wouldn’t that make Beck howl with laughter.

“You going to buy her a drink or not?” Jason Grey was there scowling.

“We were debating about wine,” she said, bristling, “and decided that wouldn’t be the best choice here.”

“Got that in one.” Jason wiped down the counter in front of her and flipped the towel over his shoulder. “Someone like you should hit the Graff or Rocco’s for wine,” he said, matter-of-fact.

She narrowed her eyes. “What would someonelike meenjoy in your bar?”

Smart girl.

Of course Jason didn’t have the urge to backpedal. If and when he was offended, which was fairly regularly from what Bodhi could tell, he didn’t give two Fs. “Him.” Jason indicated Bodhi with a jerk of his head. “He won’t do you wrong if you’re looking for some temporary fun. And to drink…” Jason took a second to calculate whatever factors he thought most relevant to the appearance of the stunning, flame-haired beauty. “Go for the Laphroaig Lore Single Malt.”

She cocked a beautifully dark arched eyebrow at him.

Did she darken them or was the red gold not her natural color? Probably not natural—few women he met were—but as a look, she rocked it and was hot as hell.

“Don’t think anyone regrets that choice except maybe when the bill comes,” Jason added.

“Make that two,” she said. “And bring the bottle.”

Jason looked at Bodhi.

“I ordered. I pay,” she said softly.

Bodhi had never heard words with such a subtle edge of assertion in his life. Curiosity piqued hard.

Jason’s lips twisted. “Go ahead and try it in a cowboy bar. This one—” he jerked his angular jaw at Bodhi “—is old school. He doesn’t let a lady pay. Not ever.”

She looked at Bodhi.

“Who says I’m a lady?”

“I’m willing to keep an open mind,” Bodhi replied. “But I am paying for what has become our evening together.”