She raised, took a step backward, and came up against something hard and unmovable. She glanced over her shoulder, past blue flannel, to Rob's chin and mouth. She looked up into his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. The room was cramped, but not that cramped. He was crowding her and purposely annoying her again.

"Could you move?" she asked.

"Yeah, I could." But he didn't. Instead, his big hands grasped the tops of her arms as if he meant to move her away, but he didn't do that either. For half an instant a shocking urge to lean back into his chest popped into her head. To feel the warmth of him up and down her spine. To turn and press her nose into his flannel collar and take a deep breath.

Appalled by her thoughts, she told herself that it had been a long time. A long time since she'd had sex. It wasn't him. Other than the Worsleys, it could have been just about anyone. Well, not Mr. Dean either.

"The Worsley boys are mean little bastards." He leaned forward a little, and the brim of his hat brushed the side of her head. The scent of his warm skin filled her lungs. "Not the kind of guys a girl should show her tattoo."

She turned her head and looked up into the shadow beneath the brim of his hat. "Gee, thanks for the warning. And I was just about to drop my pants, too."

His lips remained in a flat line as he slid his hand up her arm and shoulder. His long, warm fingers brushed her hair from the side of her bare neck.

"What are you doing?"

"Showing the rednecks around here who want to kick my ass that I'm not gay." His breath warmed the shell of her ear, and anyone looking at the two of them might think he was whispering naughty things to her. "I can hold my own against one or two at a time, but a barful might be more than even I can handle." Kate glanced about the room, but it didn't seem like the rednecks were paying Rob much attention. It occurred to her that he might be lying, but she hadn't been at the Buckhorn long enough to be certain.

She returned her gaze to the pool table as Turtle made his shot. "You could use Dixie. I'm sure she's more than willing to be used in that capacity. Or any."

He slid his hand down her arm and placed his palm in the curve of her waist. "You owe me."

She didn't figure she owed him anything, but neither did she want him to get beat up for something she'd inadvertently done. "Don't think for one second that I'm going to let you grope me," she said, relieved that her voice held a conviction she didn't quite feel as strongly as she should.

"Maybe you should define grope." His hand slid across her stomach, warming up her abdomen and stealing her breath before slowly moving back to her waist. "Is that a grope?"

Technically, no. But she felt his touch in places where he wasn't touching her at all. "Not unless you move your hand up."

"How about if I go down?" His deep chuckle spread across the side of her throat. "Do you want me to go down, Kate?"

"Don't even think about it." Turtle missed his next shot, and Kate stepped away. She'd had enough. Enough of Rob and enough of the Worsleys. She bent over the table and shot the eight into the corner pocket.

"My turn at her," Victor announced and approached the end of the table.

"Guys, I'm finished."

"You can't leave until you play Victor."

"I'm not playing Victor," she said as she moved to the cue rack and placed the stick inside. Her nerves were raw and she just wanted to go to bed. "I'm going home."

"You have to play," Victor insisted. "No one beats us Worsleys."

"Especially a girl," Turtle added.

Uh-oh. They were drunk, she told herself. "Maybe some other time."

"Everyone knows that it isn't right for a woman to beat a man."

She supposed she should let that one go, but she'd been biting her tongue all evening. She was tired of trying to be nice. "Victor, if it takes beating a woman to make you feel better about yourself, you have some real problems that go beyond the way you play pool."

"What does that mean?"

She really wished she didn't have to explain. "It means that a real man isn't threatened by a woman."

"I'll show you a real man."

Lord, if he grabbed his crotch, she was going to throw up. She shook her head. "Are you on crack?"

"No."

"Fall on your head?"

"No. Got kicked by horses plenty."

"Well, that explains it," she said and tried to move past. He stepped in front and wouldn't let her by.

"You're not leaving till we play."

Kate looked into Victor's mean, bloodshot blue eyes and felt her heart slam against her ribs.

"Hey, numb nuts," Rob interrupted from behind Victor. "She said she doesn't want to play with you boys anymore."

Kate's gaze moved passed Turtle to Rob who stood a few feet away. A vast sense of relief calmed her speeding heart to a steady pound.

"This isn't your business," Tuttle said.

"I'm making it my business."

"Figures you'd take up for her. She's mannish, but that's probably what you like about her."

"Exactly what are you trying to say Tuttle?"

"That you're a faggot." He pointed with his thumb to Kate. "And she's your dyke."

Kate guessed that answered the question.

"That wasn't nice." Rob sighed as he took off his hat and tossed it on the pool table. "You owe Kate an apology."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you wish you had." He ran his fingers through the sides of his hair. "You might want to stand back, Kate."

She didn't have to be told twice. She wedged herself between the racks of pool sticks.

"I'm not afraid of you," Tuttle announced as he bobbed and wove like some sort of boxer reject. Rob stood with his hands at his sides, watching with a bemused twist of his lips. Then Tuttle finally swung, and Kate barely saw the blur of Rob's fist before it plowed into Turtle's face. Tuttle flew back, and Kate jumped out of the way an instant before he hit the wall where she'd been standing.

Tuttle slid to the floor, his gaze unfocused and glassy-eyed. "Son of a bitch!" Victor roared and launched himself at Rob. Hit with the weight of Victor's compact body, Rob staggered a few steps backward.

"I'm gonna kick your ass for that," Victor warned as he swung wildly and connected with Rob's jaw. Rob's head snapped back, then he hit Victor with a one-two jab that left the shorter man dazed but still on his feet.

Peirce ran into the room and moved to Tuttle, who was muttering incoherently. Peirce waved a hand in front of his brother's face, then he grabbed a pool stick from the wall. Before he could move, Kate stepped in front of him. "It looks like Rob's about finished with Victor. Why don't you wait your turn."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"That depends on you."

"Get out of my way, lesbo."

Lesbo? Kate hadn't heard that word since grade school. The Worsley brothers obviously needed to get out more. She kept her eyes on the cue as Peirce raised it and stormed toward her, his gaze glued on Rob. Rob gave Victor one last punch, sending him to the floor. As Peirce passed, Kate stuck her foot between his big boots. Her elbow slammed into his back and he went down. On the way, he hit his head on the pool table, and he landed on the floor in a heap. He moaned and rolled onto his back, the pool cue still clutched in his hand. Within the dim light hanging overhead, he looked up, his gaze as glassy and unfocused as Turtle's.

"Well, God damn," he moaned just before his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.

Rob looked over at Kate, his green eyes alive and shining. "Are you okay?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded.

Outside the small pool room, someone unplugged the jukebox. Over the sound of Kate's heart pounding in her ears, she heard yelling and swearing. Through the doorway, she could see broken tables and chairs and bodies flying through the air.

"Hell, yeah," Rob said and touched the red mark on his jaw. He grinned like he was having the time of his life.

"Did I miss something? Was that fun?"

He grabbed his hat and laughed, a sound of pure pleasure that mixed with the noise of breaking glass and the distant wail of police sirens.

He was insane. Crazy. A big old numb nuts.

Seven

The front of the Buckhorn Was lit up like the fourth of July. Beams of red, white, and blue slid across the facade and the patrons lined up in front. The rotating lights of three police vehicles bounced off cars in the parking lot and chased the inky shadows in the dense forest beyond.

From inside the sheriff's Blazer, Rob looked out at everyone standing in front of the Buckhorn, his gaze taking in the two deputies as they checked for sobriety before letting anyone go. The backseat of the Blazer had no leg room, and a pair of cuffs cut into his wrist. He was uncomfortable as hell, and he might have stretched out a bit if not for the pain in the ass cuffed beside him.

He'd always known that Kate Hamilton spelled trouble. He just hadn't known how much trouble. Since she'd arrived in Gospel, she'd started that gay rumor that had some of the rednecks in town looking at him funny. He wasn't afraid. Just annoyed.

Then tonight she'd breezed into the Buckhorn and engaged three of the biggest idiots around. It'd been only a matter of time before things got ugly between her and the Worsleys and someone would have had to step in. That someone had been him, and now he was cooling his heels in the back of a cop car. To top it off, she didn't seem all that grateful.

He glanced across his shoulder at her dark profile. "You're welcome," he said.

"For what?" The lights from another squad car lit up one side of her face as she turned to look at him.