Bethany stared up at him. His eyes were glassy and hard. He was breathing funny. The smell of his sweat filmed her nostrils, making her feel as if she was breathing olive oil. "Let go of me." "Ain't touchin' you," he pointed out. "Just your chair. So, arrest me. You want to get off. I want to get off. Let's make some music together."

Before Bethany guessed what he meant to do, he clamped his foul-tasting mouth over hers and shoved a hand down the front of her blouse. She pushed frantically at his shoulders, taking him so off guard that he lost his balance and staggered back, ripping her blouse at the shoulder in the process.

"Fine by me," he said with a laugh. "You want rough? I'll deliver."

A loud, shattering sound of glass startled them both. Dave swung around, as surprised as Bethany. There stood Kate, holding the jagged end of a broken beer bottle in her right hand. "Take your paws off that girl, you son of a bitch, or I'll make you sing soprano." Bethany tried to dart into the bathroom, but her chair was just a little too wide to fit. The man's full attention was fixed on the broken bottle now, allowing her the time to get unstuck, back up, and try again. With the second advance, she hit the doorway going faster, and the force of her momentum pushed the chair on through. She swung the door shut, then backed up against it so no one could easily enter. She was shaking so badly that she could barely dig her cell phone out of her purse. She imagined Kate murdering good old Dave, with blood splattered all over the warped panel ing. Oh, God, oh, God. She shakily punched in the number to the store.

Jake opened a thick parts manual. "I don't know where she went. If she isn't at home, no telling. Have you tried my folks?" Ryan rested his arms on the parts counter. "I just-hell, I don't know. I figured she'd want to spend the evening with me. How long has she been off work?" Jake ran a finger down the small print, muttering numbers under his breath. When he found what he was seeking, he glanced up. "About an hour, maybe an hour and a half. You been by her house?" "I called there." Ryan sighed, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn't right. "I can't figure her just taking off somewhere."

Jake chuckled. "Maybe you weren't as good as you thought."

"Shut up." Ryan rubbed beside his nose. The jibe struck a little too close to home.

The phone rang just then. Without glancing up from the parts catalog, Jake snaked out a hand to answer it. "The Works. Jake Coulter speaking. How may I help you?" He lost his place in the catalog. "What? Where are you?" Ryan heard a faint voice coming over the line. Shrill, hysterical. He would have recognized it anywhere. He jerked erect, pulse racing. "What's wrong?"

Jake held up a hand. "You're what?" He listened for a second. "You stay right there. Do you understand me, Bethany? No matter what happens. Get in a stall and lock the door if you have to. I'll be right over."

Jake slammed the phone back into its cradle and came around the counter at a run. "Bethany's in a bar. Some bastard has her cornered in the bathroom, and Kate's about to rip his guts out with a broken beer bottle."

Ryan hit the door of the place called Suds two steps ahead of Jake. As he staggered into the dim interior, he scanned the room for any sign of Bethany. The bartender, a potbellied, sandy-haired guy in a white apron, jerked his thumb toward the rear. "Back there. I done called the cops."

Ryan and Jake scrambled for the rest room sign. It was a toss-up which of them made better time, the only certainty being that they didn't fit abreast when they started down the hallway. Ryan took the lead with an elbow in Jake's gut. If some creep had Bethany cornered, he wanted the honor of killing him.

When Ryan reached the end of the hallway, the scene that greeted him was worse than he imagined. Some woman who looked as if she'd been used hard and smacked for her trouble had a man backed against the wall with a broken bottle shoved against his crotch. She looked prepared to castrate him.

Ryan didn't really give a shit if the guy came out of this with his balls. He tried the ladies' room door, but the damned thing wouldn't open. Jake arrived at almost the same instant. Breathing hard, he flattened his hands on the door.

"Bethany, honey? Open up. It's Jake and Ryan. You okay?"

"Ryan?" she cried from the other side of the door. "Why'd you bring him?"

Ryan fell back. If that wasn't a fine how-do-you-do. He was here to save her. She was his. Not Jake's. Certainly not that creep's, who was about to lose his reason for being alive. Any man worth his salt looked out for his lady.

Ryan rapped his knuckles on the wood. "Bethany? Open the damn door."

"Is that awful man gone yet?" she asked shrilly. "He ripped my blouse."

Ryan glanced over his shoulder. His gaze connected with bleary brown vulture eyes, and he suddenly wondered why the hell he was messing with a door. He turned, advanced, and said to the woman, "I'll handle him from here."

Kate moved back, and Ryan stepped up to take her place.

He might not have laid hands on the man. His mama had raised him civilized, after all. But the son of a bitch looked Ryan up and down, grinned cockily, and said, "Are you the pussy who couldn't get the little lady's rocks off?"

Ryan never remembered exactly what happened after that. Witnesses claimed he grabbed the jerk by his shirt, picked him up, and proceeded to ring his bell by repeatedly slamming him against the wall.

The next thing Ryan clearly recalled, he was in handcuffs. He wasn't sure why he was in handcuffs. His knuckles burned, and there was a man in custody holding his face, but Ryan had no recollection of hitting him.

It was all pretty much confusing, actually. The cops brought Bethany out of the bathroom, and every time she looked at Ryan, she wailed, "Oh, God! Oh, God! All I wanted to do was to talk. I never meant for this to happen."

Kate put an arm around her. "Calm down, sweetie. You're twenty-six years old. If you wanna go have a beer now and again, I guess you can."

Ryan decided he didn't like Kate. She was a bad influence. He knew all about bad influences. Over the years he'd gotten into a lot of sticky situations he never saw coming with his brother Rafe. It always started with, "You know what I'm thinking?" And it went downhill from there. Oh, yeah. Ryan knew how easily you could find yourself in a hell of a mess, just because of the company you kept. Not that his brother was bad company. Rafe had just been one of those kids whose nose led him straight into trouble, and being the younger brother, Ryan had always been tagging along right behind him.

Ryan was thinking about that, albeit a little fuzzily, when Jake, who was in no real trouble with the cops, stepped over to the bar. He gave the bartender a long, narrow-eyed look that Ryan immediately recognized as bad news.

In a low, sort of friendly voice, Jake said, "Are you the man who called the cops when he realized a girl in a wheelchair was trapped in the ladies' room with an amorous, unruly drunk trying to bust down the door?"

The bartender might have said yes and gotten away with it. Instead, he puffed out his chest. "What do you think I am, buster, a bouncer? The lady came in, started complainin' to her friend about her sex life, and some guy half my age offered to show her a good time. I ain't touchin' that with a ten-foot pole. Like she wasn't askin' for trouble? My wife likes my face just the way it is."

"She won't now," Jake said conversationally.

And then he hit him.

Shortly after that, Ryan was getting cozier with Jake Coulter than he'd ever wanted to be-in the back of a cop car.

The Crystal Falls city jail had never seen such a ruckus. Ryan could hear his dad yelling clear in the back cell block. Clinging to the bars like a convicted felon, Jake gazed across the aisle at Ryan. "You think your dad's gonna spring us or join us?"

Ryan pressed his brow against one of the bars and rolled his head back and forth on the coolness. As a substitute for an ice pack, it totally sucked, but it was as close as he was going to get in this place. "My father's jailbird days are over. He hasn't had any brushes with the law since he married my mom."

Jake listened for a moment. "He sounds a little hot under the collar."

Jake no sooner stopped speaking than Ryan heard his father yell, "What the hell is this country comin' to? A girl gets accosted by a drunk, and you arrest her menfolk for takin' up for her? Explain that to me. Used to be, when a man defended a woman, people patted him on the back!"

A low-pitched voice replied, the sound a murmur Ryan couldn't make out.

"He always like this?" Jake asked.

Ryan considered the question. "Nah. Only when he gets royally pissed."

"Then, call the judge!" Keefe roared. "Get the damn bail set! I'm not leaving my boys in the hoosegow all night! You got that, partner?" Ryan flashed a weak grin at Jake. "Congratulations. You just got yourself a second daddy. Ain't he a dandy?"

They both heard a woman's voice rise over the din just then. "No, Keefe, please! I'm all right."

Keefe yelled, "Don't push my wife, you cocky little jackass!"

"Keefe, please!" Ann cried again.

A loud crash followed. Jake raised his eyebrows, fixed an alarmed look on Ryan, and whispered, "Holy hell, I think your dad just punched a police officer."

Chapter Sixteen.

Sly had noticed Bethany's gray van sitting out front when he entered the stable, so he wasn't surprised to hear her talking to her horse. However, he was surprised when he realized she was crying as if her heart would break. With all the Kendricks at city hall, he was a lone soldier at the moment. Sly didn't mix any too good with weepy females.

That being the case, he considered leaving. Turning around, walking out. It seemed like a good plan, but when he reached the doors, the sound of her sobs grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He stopped and slowly turned back, not entirely sure what he meant to do, but feeling as if he had to do something.

Once he reached the stall gate, he wasn't sure how to let her know he was there. She sat with her back to him, her face pressed against her mare's chest. Sly rubbed his jaw and then said, "Kinda looks like rain. Don't it?"

She jumped as if he'd jabbed her with a cattle prod. Then she hurriedly rubbed her cheeks before turning to look at him. From the first, Sly had thought she was a pretty little gal, but he hadn't really seen why the boy was so taken with her. Now he did. Them eyes of hers were flat something, damned near as big as flapjacks and bluer than blue.

"Sly! I, um-you startled me. I didn't know anybody was here."

He rested an arm on top of the gate. "Just came over to feed the stock. Ryan ain't around to take care of it tonight." "I know. He's-in jail." Her face crumpled. "And it's all my fault." That wasn't the half of it. Could be she hadn't heard about Ryan's daddy yet, though, and Sly wasn't about to tell her. "Well, now, don't take too much blame. That boy's a scrapper, always has been. He come by it kinda natural. Ain't like he just up and caught a bad case of the orneries after he met you."

She wiped her cheeks. As soon as she finished, another big tear spilled out. She dabbed at her nose with a tattered tissue that had more holes than a noodle sieve. Sly dug in his hip pocket for his handkerchief. After checking to be sure it was clean, he opened the gate and stepped inside to hand it to her.

"Here, honey. It's a little dusty but otherwise clean." "Oh, I-" She stared at the blue bandanna for a second. Then she hesitantly plucked it from his fingers. "Thank you." Sly hunkered, sifting through the hay while she blew her nose. "I couldn't help but hear you when I came in. Is there anything I can do?" She took a quivery breath. "I wish there was. I feel so bad, Sly." Her mouth trembled and twisted. "Ryan's mom and dad are going to hate me." "Aw, now, that ain't likely. This is just one of them things. Been kind of borin' around here of late. You sure enough fixed that." "I guess I have." She dabbed the corners of her eyes. "All I wanted to do was talk to another woman. What a disaster. I was hoping to solve a problem, not create a new one."

"That's how it happens sometimes. The hurrier you go, the behinder you get."

She smiled and nodded. "I definitely didn't solve anything, that's for sure."

Sly searched her face. She looked so lonely sitting there, with only her horse for company. "Don't you have any friends, honey?"

She shrugged. "Dozens up in Portland, just not many here yet. I haven't been back very long, and until just recently, all my time was taken up helping my brother at the store. There's Ryan, of course," She blew her nose again. "I can't talk to him. If only Kate would have gone with me for coffee. But, oh, no. We had to go to a stupid bar."

Sly smoothed the hay in front of him. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. "If you got a particular problem that needs solvin', maybe I can help." "Thank you, Sly. That's very sweet. But it's-well, of a delicate nature, a feminine concern. That's probably not your field of expertise." "With a name like Sly Bob, there ain't much about females I ain't expert on," he informed her with a wink.

"Sly Bob?"

"Short for Sylvester Bob, last name Glass. Down home, I harkened to Sly Bob."

"Is Galias a Mexican-American surname?"

He cocked an eyebrow, "No, darlin', it's Glass, not Galias."

"I'm not detecting a difference in the pronunciations. How is that spelled?"

"Just like it sounds, G-L-A-S-S."

Flattening a dainty hand over her chest, she burst out laughing, tears spilling over her lower lashes when she scrunched her eyes almost closed. "Just lack it sigh-yoonds?" she repeated, shaking her head. "G-Ale-A-Ayus-Ayus?" When her mirth subsided, she said, "Oh, Sly." She dabbed at her cheeks. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. I feel better already."

"I'm glad I lightened your load." She smiled. "Considerably. So, tell me, how did Sylvester Bob Glass get shortened to Sly Bob? Someone didn't like you, or what?"

"Nah. It was the way in them parts, shortenin' boys' names, oft times to the first and middle initials, and my mama didn't like folks callin' me by mine." Her brow furrowed in a frown, then understanding dawned in her eyes and she nodded. "Ah. I can see why she might have taken exception."

"Anyhow, she took to callin' me Sly Bob, and it stuck. I got teased a lot, and somewhere along the way, I started livin' up to the handle. Bad decision on my part, but it led to lots of interestin' experiences until I was nigh onto forty."

"Then you settled down?" "Nope. Just got tuckered. Women have a way of flat wearin' a man out."

She rewarded him with another smile. Sly was glad she had at least stopped crying. "I appreciate your offering to lend me an ear. But it's not the sort of thing I can talk to a man about. Especially not you. You might tell Ryan."

"I ain't given to talkin' out of school, not to Ryan or anybody else."

"I couldn't ask that of you. I know you're very close to him."

Watching her expressions, Sly got a funny, achy feeling at the base of his throat. There were all different kinds of lonely, and he had a feeling this girl had been nose to nose with most of them. She was also very troubled about something, and unless he missed his guess, it had to do with Ryan. Sly loved that boy like a son. "It won't be the first secret I ever kept from Ryan."

She blushed and shook her head. "No. I just-it's too personal. I'd just-no. I couldn't."

Sly thought for a minute. "You ain't the only one who could use a friend, you know. Here of late, I got me a problem of my own."

Her eyes filled with concern. "You do?"

"Yep. Cain't talk to anybody in the family about it." Sly rubbed a hand over his mouth. "They get wind of this, and I'm liable to get my walkin' papers."

"The Kendricks would never fire you. You're like a member of the family."

"Just goes to show how bad a problem I got, I reckon." He met her gaze. "Tellin' secrets has gotta go two ways. You wanna do a swap?" "Oh, I don't know. As I said, I'd feel funny, talking to you about mine." Wink stepped over and began pestering Sly for a scratch between the ears. He absentmindedly obliged the mare as he said, "No call to feel funny talkin' to me, honey. There ain't nothin' that shocks this old man."

She went to twisting on the handkerchief, her fingers clenching so hard that her knuckles turned white. "Yes, well, this is about sex." She leaned closer to whisper that last word as if she feared someone else might overhear.

"Sex?" Sly chuckled. "Well, now, you are in luck. I might've scratched my head a little on some subjects, but I'm sure enough an expert on that one. I've hung my britches on so many bedposts, I once wore a post hole in the seat of my jeans."

Her eyes widened. "My goodness. Did you really?"

He narrowed an eye at her. "No, not for true. I did wear a white spot, though. Anything you wanna know on that subject, I'm the feller to ask." "I suppose getting a man's viewpoint might be helpful." "I qualify on that count. Definitely a man, last time I checked. So what do you say? Wanna swap problems?"

She smiled slightly, then took a bracing breath. "All right. But only if you share yours first."

"Do I got your word you won't never tell? Nary a soul."

"Nary a soul," she agreed.

Sly shoved Wink away and ran his finger under his shirt collar. Then he cleared his throat. His voice went gravelly as he said, "You met Helen, Maggie's mother."

"Yes."

"Well, her and me, we're being friendly on the sly, no pun intended. If anyone find's out, it could cost me my job at the Rocking K. Helen ain't quite normal, you see." When he finished speaking, she stared at him in stunned silence for several seconds. "Oh, Sly. I don't know what to say." "Ain't much you can say, I don't guess." He released a pent-up breath. "Unless it's to call me a lowdown polecat for triflin' with her." "Never that, Sly. I think she's a very lucky lady."

"You don't think I'm doin' wrong?"

"Not if you truly care for her. If you were only using her, then, yes, I think it would be very wrong. But it doesn't sound to me as if that's the case."

"I feel powerful better, just gettin' it off my chest. They all trust me, you see, and in the thirty-odd years I've worked on this spread, I ain't never broken that trust. Keefe and me-we go way back. When he first started this place, I Was his right-hand man, and I been here ever since. Stood up for him when he married Annie. Helped raise both them boys." He took off his hat to turn it in his hands. "I tried to keep my hands off her. I knowed she wasn't right and maybe looked at me through a child's eyes, so I tried my damnedest. But the sad fact is, a man don't always choose who he loves. It just up and bites him on the ass."

"Does she love you?"

A burning sensation washed over Sly's eyes. "She thinks I can rope the moon. Could be that's why I love her so. Been a lot of women. None to speak of recent like, but a goodly number in my younger days. Nobody's ever looked at me like that." He tried to think of a way to explain. "When I talk, she listens, all interested like. Follows on my heels like a lost puppy whenever I'm over at Rafe's place. I ain't got a whole lot of schoolin', and lots of folks think I'm dumb. She admires me and thinks I'm smart. That makes me feel real good, and seein' the shine in her eyes when she looks at me, I walk a mite taller in my boots."

Bethany leaned forward to touch his hand. "Oh, Sly. I think maybe you're underestimating Ryan. If I understand how you feel, don't you think he will? He's got a good heart."