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.