Rescue Me

Her bar?

Finn let his gaze travel down her body again, a little more intrigued this time.

It fit. The impractical shoes were a perfect complement to the armadillo spinning lazily overhead. Her jeans were well worn and molded to her body. She might be small, but it was obvious she had curves in all the right places. And the black T-shirt she wore, emblazoned with the logo of a local craft beer, emphasized that fact.

As she leaned closer, the pressure from her finger increased. That was really beginning to irritate him.

“You have to leave,” she reiterated.

He could argue with her—actually, Duchess was legally allowed to be on the premises. But considering his purpose for being at the Kentucky Rose in the first place, it probably wasn’t a smart idea to piss off the owner. Yet.

So he’d try to cajole.

“I just ordered a beer.”

“Too bad. Your dog isn’t welcome.”

Or maybe not.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Finn stared down at her. “My dog is a highly trained military working dog. She’s a decorated war hero. She’s a hell of a lot better behaved than half the people in this tacky excuse for a bar.”

The minute the words were out of his mouth, Finn realized he’d made a tactical error. She might have been angry before, but now she was downright pissed.

Her skin flushed a deep pink. Her eyes turned glacier, but somehow still had the ability to burn straight through his skin.

“Tucker.” Someone yelled the name out across the crowd. He didn’t realize the voice was addressing the woman in front of him until the brute attached to it appeared behind her. You could’ve fit her inside the man’s clothes twice and had room to spare. But the guy was all frickin’ muscle.

Not that it particularly mattered to Finn. He’d fought guys bigger and badder than this one and come out on top.

“You need help with this guy, Tucker?” he asked, keeping his gaze trained on Finn.

Tucker. That was interesting. He’d never have pegged her for a Tucker, although something about the name fit. Unusual and dynamic, just like the woman.

“Nope. He and his dog were just leaving.” Her eyes flashed a warning. For some strange reason, he really wanted to ignore it, just to see what she’d do.

But out of the corner of his eye he saw several more men who were obviously the brute’s backup slide into place on either side of him. Finn’s mother hadn’t raised a complete idiot.

“All right.” Finn held up his hands. “Duchess and I will go.” For now.

But they’d both be back. Because the Kentucky Rose was the first real lead in finding and stopping the meth that had cost them several soldiers in the last two months.

He wasn’t about to walk away from that.

* * *

BLOWING A BREATH that fluttered her bangs over her eyes, Tucker watched the door slam shut behind the soldier and his dog.

It was a shame he’d been such an arrogant asshole—bringing a dog into a bar—because he was a gorgeous one.

She didn’t mean to study the way his jeans clung to his tight ass as he’d walked away. Or the bulge of his strong biceps beneath the tight edge of his T-shirt. Or the sexy stubble that covered his cheeks and did nothing to hide the dimple in the center of his chin.

There was no question, the man was rough around the edges. She hadn’t needed him to tell her he was military, she’d known it before he opened his mouth by the way he held himself. That alert, prepared-for-anything way his gaze had moved around the room.

She’d grown up with an airman, her dad the only real family she’d ever had. And while she loved him, she also knew damn well she wanted nothing to do with any more soldiers. She’d had her fill of the uncertainty and fear that came with living that life.

Which possibly made opening a bar right outside an Air Force base a little like selling water on the edge of the desert. A smart business decision, but terrible for her personal life, considering the majority of the men she met were ones she refused to consider dating.

Maybe she should’ve opened the Rose somewhere else, but San Antonio was familiar...comfortable. It was the first place in her entire life that had felt like home. She loved the Texas twang in everyone’s voices. The Southern charm of the people who inhabited the city. The green landscape against the wide open skies. Hell, she even liked the humidity in the summer.

She’d spent enough of her life moving from one base to another, never really feeling like anywhere was home. Or being left behind while her only living parent was in the middle of a war zone. Growing up with that stress and uncertainty...nope, not interested in courting more.

The Kentucky Rose was her chance to finally grow some roots, have a place all her own that no one could ever take away from her.

Turning on her heel, Tucker took a second to let her gaze travel across her bar. Taking in the happy patrons and hardworking staff, a sense of pride and satisfaction filled her. This was what was important.

She’d done this. Built this all by herself with hard work and sheer grit.

There was one rowdy group of guys, apparently in town celebrating a bachelor party. They’d been slamming back shots since they walked in the door. She’d have to tell Matt to stay close in case they got stupid drunk and made trouble. She also made a mental note to send Kayla over with some nachos on the house. Hopefully, the food would soak up the alcohol and slow them down a bit.

The first strains of The Devil Went Down to Georgia pumped into the room. From every corner, waitresses started whooping. The patrons, especially the regulars who knew what was coming, joined in. As one, the girls moved toward the bar, jumping up onto the wooden surface Tucker had spent hours sanding herself. In perfect unison, her team began to kick and stomp to the music, following the choreography they’d spent hours learning.

Tucker’s eagle eye watched each of them, looking for any small imperfection they could work on the next time they practiced. Her team often left those sessions dripping with sweat and groaning about how much of a taskmaster she could be. But they looked forward to them anyway. She made sure they still had fun, with lots of laughter and camaraderie.

This might be work, but she regarded every woman on her staff as a friend. Over the last year, she’d made a point to foster the idea that they were family, not just coworkers. And she really believed that. On the floor, it was important to look out for each other, especially during busy nights like tonight.

“Tucker.” Wyatt walked up, his large shoulder brushing against hers. He’d been with her from the very beginning as her head of security. But they’d known each other longer than that. Wyatt had worked at the bar she’d managed while putting herself through grad school.

At one point he’d tried to get into her pants, but she’d shut him down damn fast. Almost as bad as messing with a military man would be sleeping with one of her coworkers or employees. She didn’t mix business and pleasure.

Now they were just good friends. Wyatt often stayed late to walk her out. He’d become the overly protective little brother she’d never had. And since he and Michelle, one of her best waitresses, had been together for almost six months now, everything had worked out for the best anyway.

“Thanks for helping me handle that guy and his dog before.”

“Didn’t look like you needed much help, boss. As usual. You had things well in hand.”

“Yeah, but it’s always better to have backup. At least he was smart enough to realize he was outnumbered and should leave quietly. I would’ve hated to make a scene.”

“But you would’ve done it anyway.”

She shrugged. “Sure. If I needed to.”

Wyatt nodded. They’d worked together long enough to know how the other operated.

“I see you sent Kayla over to defuse the bachelor nightmare that was brewing.” Wyatt tipped his chin in the direction of the bar. The song had flipped over to something about a girl and a tractor. Her team had melted into the crowd, back at it, serving the customers.

Everyone except Kayla. She was sitting on the bar, her tiny shorts riding up and flashing the curve of her ass. She tossed her long mane of red curls and laughed, the throaty sound carrying across the bar.

One of the guys tried to run his hand up the outside of her thigh. Before he could get far, Kayla smacked his hand and let out another peal of laughter like it was a joke.