Page 4 of Hudson
She tensed, ready to glare, but when she turned she found herself face to face with a man whose presence filled the space around him. Broad-shouldered, worn denim, and he smelled amazing. His cowboy hat sat low on his forehead, shadowing most of his face, but that strong jaw covered in stubble made her want to see the rest of it.
Blair drew in a slow breath.
This was no greenhorn. This was the real deal.
The bar was full of laughter, clinking glasses and the steady hum of country music. Neon signs cast a faint blue glow across the worn wood of the counter.
“What did I do to deserve that look?” His voice was quiet enough that only she could hear.
Blair tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and leaned back on her stool, studying him through narrowed lashes. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of those persistent cowboys who’ve been trailing me all night.”
He followed her gaze toward the cluster of men near the dartboard, their boots shifting impatiently. “Want me to run them off?”
She pressed her palms flat against the bar top and sighed. “I’m afraid they’d still follow me out to the parking lot.”
A faint smile curved his lips. “I can walk you out, if you like.”
Blair’s lips twitched. “I don’t know you either.”
Laughter rumbled from his chest, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach. “Scarlett, Siobhan, Laura, Dixie and Keith all know me. Ask any of them.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Okay. In the meantime, can I buy you a drink?”
She shook her head and reached for her purse. “I’m switching to soda. My friend was supposed to meet me, but she fell ill. I’ve been dying to leave, but those guys won’t give me a break.”
He caught the bartender’s eye, and a man with a neatly trimmed mustache made his way over. “Keith, she wants a soda. I’ll have whatever’s on tap.”
Keith glanced at Blair and nodded.
“You know this man?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
“Sure. Why?”
“Is he a good guy?”
Keith offered a half shrug. “Sure.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
The man beside her chuckled, a rough, pleasant sound.
“I’m not taking his word alone,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Don’t blame you,” he replied, tone amused. “He didn’t exactly sing my praises.”
Blair shook her head. “No, he did not.” She watched as he slipped off his stool, reached into his back pocket and flipped open his wallet.
“Are you a cop?” she ventured when she saw the ID.
“Livestock agent. Montana Department of Livestock,” he corrected, voice calm.
“Livestock agent?” She brightened. “Do you know Killian Doyle?”
“We work out of the same office.”
“He’s married to my cousin,” she said, lowering her voice.
