“Good point.”
“Besides, Shylo would probably enjoy another home-cooked meal.”
While Tucker grabbed the key to the ATV from the hook by the door, Seth silently agreed. He'd noticed the difference every time Shylo came to the ranch. She seemed more relaxed there than anywhere else. She laughed more, smiled more, and for a few hours looked completely at home.
Tucker climbed onto the ATV. “Can you rinse Rowdy off and get him into the shade? Give him some water and hay. He's earned a break after hauling me around in this heat.”
“You got it.”
After he started the engine, Tucker pointed a finger at him. “And invite Shylo to Sunday dinner.”
“I will.” Seth watched his boss head back toward the north pasture before pulling out his phone.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
Chapter 23
Saturday night at Bar None had the energy that made the hours blur together.
By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, Shylo's feet ached, her hair had slipped from the loose knot at the back of her head, and the scent of fried food, beer, and spilled whiskey clung to her clothes. The jukebox had been fighting a losing battle against the crowd for most of the night, classic country giving way to a rowdy sing-along near the pool tables in the game room before someone fed the machine enough money to switch it over to Southern rock. Laughter rolled through the room in waves, bouncing off the tin signs and scuffed wood paneling while the ceiling fans stirred the air without making much difference.
It should have worn her down.
Instead, for the first time all day, Shylo felt almost normal.
After making sure the dining room and kitchen were both clean and ready for tomorrow's lunch shift, Shylo untied her apron and pulled the night's tips from the pocket. She tucked the cash into her bag, rolled the apron into a ball, and stuffed it inside. It would go in with tomorrow's laundry.
Six hours of carrying heavy trays and pitchers of beer had left her back and neck aching. She stretched and rolled her shoulders until the muscles loosened.
Dean, the daytime bar manager, had come in on his day off to cover for another night bartender who'd called out sick. Between him, Alyssa, and Lou, the crowded bar never seemed to fall behind. Orders flew across the counter almost as fast as they were called in.
With the dining room closed, Giselle, Shylo, and Ryder were finally off the clock. Maddie remained busy serving the bar and pub tables, where the kitchen would keep taking food orders until one.
As Shylo reached the kitchen end of the bar, Dean set a chilled glass of her usual pinot grigio in front of her without a word before turning to fill another customer's order.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
He acknowledged her with a quick nod, already reaching for the next glass.
Giselle leaned against the end of the bar, her short cornrows neatly braided against her scalp, a draft beer in her hand. Ryder had claimed the stool beside her, one boot hooked on the foot rail, while Lane Myers, one of Hazard Falls's police officers, rested an elbow on the bar beside him.
Over the past couple of weeks, Shylo had learned there was a history between Lane and Lou. They'd dated in high school before something had gone spectacularly wrong shortly before he'd left for the Marines. Twelve years later, he returned to Hazard Falls and joined the police department. Lou insisted she couldn't stand him, and Lane seemed to enjoy proving otherwise by teasing her every chance he got.
“So, Lou,” Lane called over the noise of the crowd, “when are you gonna climb up on the bar and dance? Or better yet, auction me off to the highest female bidder. It worked in Coyote Ugly.”
Dean barked a laugh.
Lou glared at him as she grabbed a bottle from the back bar. “Don't encourage him.”
Completely unapologetic, Lane only shrugged. “It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion.”
“In your dreams.”
Dean slid another beer across the bar to another patron. “Personally, I'd pay to see either.”
Pouring whiskey into several shot glasses, Lou shot him another look. “You're not helping.”
“Hey, I'm staying out of it.”
