Excerpt of Dream Huntress by Michelle Sharp

After plucking the large shards of glass off the floor, she
stood. His eyes
locked on long, slim legs that trailed up to a strip of
denim entirely too
small to be considered shorts. Above the denim waistband, a
tiny, shimmering
rhinestone gleamed in her belly button. His gaze continued
the journey up to
her breasts. Generous, rounded, spectacular breasts.

“Wrong set of eyes, cowboy. I’m up here.” Her brow molded
into a scolding
arch, irritation plain on her pretty face.

His pride was hurt. He wasn’t a typical male who goggled at
women and talked
to their chests. Not usually. But, okay, this one caught
him by surprise.
Embarrassed that he’d gawked like a teenager, he tried to
redeem himself.
“I’m sorry. I was noticing...your rhinestone.”

“Uh-huh.” She snorted. “That’s the first time I’ve heard
them called that.”

Busted. He concentrated on keeping his eyes more
respectfully on her face,
although it was just as intriguing as her body.

She looked him over with attitude and piercing, emerald
eyes.
Her wild, wavy hair ended precisely where the bikini top
started. Though he
damned well wasn’t going to shift his eyes to look, not if
it killed him.
Thankfully, though, he had excellent peripheral vision.
Even without so much
as a southward blink, he was well aware of the two
miniscule triangles of
shiny gold material and string barely covering her chest.
If she was that
good looking and working as a waitress in Buck’s, she must
not be the
sharpest pencil in the box.

Leaning in to be heard over the music, she asked, “What can
I get you,
cowboy?”

Her clean, flowery scent overpowered the club’s stench of
sweat and smoke.
His body tensed like an over-tightened guitar string. He
swallowed hard. “Do
I look like a cowboy?”

She cocked the brow again, probably wondering if he needed
alcohol to further
diminish his brain function. “Not at all.” Her voice
strained over the beat
of the bass. “The boots and denim shirt practically scream
tax attorney.”

“Come on, baby, it’s a freaking desert in here,” a drunk at
another table
hollered. “How long is it gonna take for your tight little
buns to bring me a
beer?”

“Keep your pants on, Lewis,” she growled back. “Listen, the
natives are
restless, and the show’s up there”—she pointed to Fiona
dancing on the stage
—“not here.” She jerked a thumb back toward her chest. “Can
I get you
anything or not?”

“A real smile and a beer too much to ask?”

Apparently, he’d finally charmed her, because her full lips
tilted toward a
genuine smile, until some guy squeezed behind her and slid
obscenely against
her bottom.

An irritated scowl replaced any hint of a smile. She
whipped around to face
the man.

“I was only trying to get by, sweetheart. It’s crowded in
here.”

She turned back and rolled her eyes. “I can get you the
beer...”

The dancing and music ended abruptly. The house lights
edged brighter, and
Ty’s eardrums vibrated in the absence of the thundering
bass.

“...but the smile’s gonna be harder to come by.” She
lowered her voice to a
normal decibel. “House draft okay?”

He nodded and grinned, then watched her walk away. It was
barely a
conversation, only a couple of sentences to judge by, but
she didn’t seem
like the brainless beauty he’d pegged her for.

Her narrow hips swayed away from him and toward the bar,
but her head snapped
toward a scuffle a few feet away. Ty watched her zero in on
a couple of
college-aged guys giving Dave, one of the regulars, a hard
time. She tossed
her tray onto a table and stalked toward the commotion.

Dave wasn’t your typical, everyday regular. He wasn’t your
typical, everyday
anything. He was special. There were a million bad things
about living in a
small town, but the way people pitched in and took care of
one of their own
was definitely one of the pluses.

Dave had special needs. He hadn’t finished school and
couldn’t read, but he
worked hard bussing tables and doing dishes at the local
diner. Thirty-four
years old, he still lived with his mom, talked with a
fairly severe speech
impediment, and couldn’t drive.

Ironically, he always had a ride; some local usually took
him anywhere he
needed to go. Ty couldn’t have counted the number of times
he’d hauled Dave
around. Usually, it was home, to the diner, or to Buck’s.
Dave had an
affection for beer and “boobies,” as he would often yell
out when the girls
were on stage.

“That’s a lot of cash for a halfwit.” College Guy continued
to give Dave
trouble. “How ’bout we take some of it off your hands for
you?” He tossed
Dave’s wallet to a buddy.

The second jerk laughed and fingered through the wallet.
“Look at this—Mr.
Big Bucks. We could take your money and invest it for you.”
Ty moved, with the intention of taking care of the idiots
bothering Dave, but
the sexy cocktail waitress beat him to the punch. He slid
into a chair and
waited, figuring it was only a matter of time before she
needed help
.
“You better invest in a bulletproof vest and a bodyguard if
any of these
locals hear about you taking anything from Dave,” she
suggested with an icy
stare. “Give me the wallet and get the hell out. Don’t come
back until you’ve
figured out how to impersonate a human.”

The college kid puffed up his chest. “Blondie, you don’t
have nearly enough
muscle to back up your big mouth. You need to poke your
scrawny ass into
someone else’s business.”

“You think so?” She stepped closer until they were nose to
nose.
Ty wasn’t sure whose jaw dropped more, his or the college
guy’s she had now
backed up a step.

“You see Tiny and Tim over there leaning against the
doors?” she asked.
Ty glanced in the direction in which she’d nodded. He
smiled, doubting very
seriously whether their names were actually Tiny and Tim,
but he appreciated
the joke. There was at least eight hundred pounds of flesh
between the two
hulking bouncers.

“When I turn on the water works and tell ’em you grabbed me
in the bathroom
hallway and had your hands all over me, they’ll tear you
apart just for the
sport of it. I doubt a reattached dick ever functions the
way it did the
first time around.”

Ty eased to a stand. He didn’t know if the punk was stupid
enough to actually
touch her, but given the way she mouthed off, preparing to
move quickly only
seemed logical.