She could tell it would be useless to argue, and as Uncle Charlie once said, “If you want to win, you have to learn to pick your battles.”
Jenny had a feeling that working for Cain Barrett, she would face plenty of battles ahead.
Cain walked Jenny out to his big Dodge truck and opened the passenger door. As small as she was, he was glad the truck had automatic power running boards and, being the top-of-the-line model, pretty much everything else. Jenny swung into the passenger seat without his help, and he rounded the front, climbed in, and started the engine.
As she’d said, it was only a matter of minutes down the steep hill to Main Street. He could have dropped her off in front of the saloon, but he didn’t like the idea, and a parking space had just opened up a little way down the block.
Nell had taught him a man walked a woman to her door. Luckily, she had also taught him etiquette and how to speak proper English. She had been a schoolteacher in her younger years. More he owed her for.
“Thanks for the ride.” Jenny stepped down from the seat before he had time to get out and open her door. She waved as she disappeared into the saloon.
Unease slipped through him at the sight of the string of motorcycles parked along the edge of the asphalt. He debated for a moment, then decided he could use a beer before heading back to his half-finished suite at the hotel.
There wasn’t much in the way of decoration there yet, but there was a sofa and chair in the living room, along with a big-screen TV. He had a king-size bed in the master, plus a guest room. Both bathrooms and the powder room were finished, and he kept several changes of clothes in the closet. The best part was the private elevator he’d added at the back of the hotel that went from the rear parking lot all the way up to his fourth-floor suite.
He got out of the truck and walked the half block back to the saloon. A beer sounded good, and the road down the hill to the ranch was too dangerous a drive for anyone who had been drinking. He’d stay at the hotel and head back to the ranch in the morning.
As Cain pushed through the swinging doors, country music filled the air. A man’s voice, accompanied by the strum of a guitar, came from a one-man band in the corner. The room was packed, tourists mostly, a couple of guys in cowboy hats. There were a few locals in the mix and some old hippies from the days of Jerome’s comeback as a tourist attraction.
A new generation of artists, misfits, and outliers ran the remodeled boutiques, restaurants, and bars—and, of course, there were the ghosts Jerome was famous for.
Cain’s glance went to a group of men in biker leathers who had pulled several tables together and were laughing and drinking. Two of them had their chairs tilted back, their heavy motorcycle boots propped on the tables.STEEL COBRASwas the name on the back of their black-leather jackets.
His gaze immediately went in search of Jenny. She was talking to the bartender—Troy something—and she didn’t look pleased. Cain remained next to the door, watching as she headed for the bikers, half of him uneasy, the other half fascinated.
“Gentlemen,” Jenny said, her hands propped on her very appealing hips. She looked good in the stretch jeans she seemed to favor, and the bikers definitely noticed.
“Hey, babe, you come over here to get a little?” The guy was big and bald, with earrings in both ears. “Good ol’ Ryder will be happy to give you some.” He grabbed his crotch and squeezed it suggestively. “Let me know if you like what you see.”
Jenny focused her attention in good ol’ Ryder’s direction, grabbed his booted feet, and dragged them off the table. They hit the wooden floor with a heavy thud, jerking the biker’s neck as his chair dropped back down on four legs.
The other bikers howled with laughter, but Ryder didn’t seem amused.
“The bartender says you’re way over your limit,” Jenny said. “I think it’s time for all of you to leave.”
Cain could feel his eyes widening in disbelief. Little Jenny Spencer couldn’t be taking on half a dozen rowdy bikers. But clearly she was.
Ryder’s chair scraped back as he rose to his feet. The music kept playing, but the conversation in the bar had stopped.
“You know what I think?” Ryder said. “I think you and me are goin’ for a little stroll outside.” He gripped Jenny’s arm, but she jerked it free.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Jenny pointed to the door. “Now get out.”
Cain rested lightly on his feet, ready to step in if things went south, and he figured they would. He knew guys like these. They’d been among his lowlife friends back when he was a kid.
“You wouldn’t want us to drive drunk, would you, sweetheart?” The second biker was tall and skinny, with stringy brown hair and a sleeve of tats down each arm, more tats on the side of his neck.
“I definitely don’t want you driving drunk,” she said. “I can easily arrange for the police to come and get you, give you a free room for the night.”
Another round of laughter broke out, but one look at Ryder and it faded away.
“The choice is yours,” Jenny said. “I’d suggest you throw your bedrolls down at the edge of town and get some sleep, be on your way in the morning.”
It was reasonable. Far more reasonable than Cain would have been. He had to admit he was impressed. And the way the men were grumbling and stirring to their feet, it looked like Jenny’s approach actually might work.
As the group started for the door, some of the tension in his shoulders began to ease.
Then Ryder paused and turned back. In two long strides, he reached Jenny, bent, and hauled her over a beefy shoulder. As he strode for the door, Cain’s whole body tightened.
