She was mopping up the bar with a rag when she saw a woman come up to Rowdy. It seemed like her eyes just naturally knew where to find him and sought him out every few minutes.

Over and over again women came on to him. He’d laugh, tease, chat. But he didn’t get overly familiar with any of them.

This time, however, was different.

Rowdy greeted this lady with a hug.

Avery forgot what she was doing. The whiskey-soaked rag hung limp in her hand. The bubbly little brunette took care not to hurt his back, even cupped a hand to his face and spoke intimately with him.

Ice ran through her veins, followed by a tidal wave of heat. Without realizing it, Avery squeezed the rag, and the whiskey she’d just mopped up all squished out again. The guy sitting in front of her said, “Hey!”

Irked, Avery mumbled, “Sorry,” and again cleaned the spill. She tried turning away. She really did. But she couldn’t keep herself from looking back once more.

Rowdy smiled, teased, even tucked the woman’s hair behind her ear in that same tender way that Avery had stupidly felt was special for her.

Special. Ha! The only thing special was that she hadn’t yet slept with him. Once she did, Rowdy would move on. She knew that, and maybe, just maybe, that accounted for part of her insistence that they wait.

She glared so hard that Rowdy suddenly glanced up, and his gaze clashed with hers.

She thrust up her chin and turned away. Then had to peek back. Rowdy now had his arm around the woman’s shoulders, but he wasn’t smiling anymore.

It didn’t matter. Avery had already accepted that she had no hold on him. Of course he’d flirt. It was in his nature, a vital part of who he was as a man. And with the way women gravitated to him—

Her murderous thoughts stalled when Rowdy started leading the woman toward her.

He wanted to introduce them? No, no, no. That was too much to ask.

But what could she do? She glanced around in a near panic. Abandon the bar? Show that it bothered her?

The hell she would.

If he wanted her to meet his admirers, then she’d pretend it didn’t bother her at all.

Before he’d quite reached them, Avery pasted on a stiff smile that made her cheeks ache.

Rowdy dragged the woman right up to her. “Avery, this is a friend of mine.”

The woman smiled happily. “Hello.”

A friend, huh? Avery barely suppressed a sarcastic snort. And just what the hell did Rowdy’s “friend” have to be so happy about?

Doing her best to play along, Avery said, “Nice to meet you,” and then, even though she couldn’t see the bar through tunnel vision, she tried to get back to work.

“Avery.” Without lowering his voice one iota, Rowdy stated, “I’m not sleeping with her.”

Gasping, Avery spun back around. “Rowdy!”

The woman gave him a sappy, indulgent look of warm affection. “Of course he’s not.” She flapped a hand. “He’s tempting enough, but we worked that stuff out early on. I needed to know his expectations and he—”

Rowdy interrupted her, saying, “That’s enough.”

She leaned into him, but spoke to Avery. “I bet Rowdy has you confounded, doesn’t he?” She tipped her head back to smile up at him. “You do that to every woman.”

They were so damned cozy together that Avery’s molars ground together. “I know exactly what he does to every woman.”

Rowdy pulled his friend closer. “How can you know, Avery, when you and I haven’t yet—”

Avery threw the whiskey-soaked rag at him.

It almost hit the woman, who squealed and ducked back.

It did hit Rowdy, splatting right in the center of his solid chest, and then slowly dropping to the floor with a sodden plop.

He stared at her with incredulity.

Avery stared back, disbelieving that she’d done such a thing, but also sort of tickled with Rowdy’s look of shock. She’d seen many expressions from him, most of them intimidating, but never this hilarious blank surprise.

A nervous giggle escaped her.

Rowdy’s eyes narrowed.

All around them, the racket from boisterous drinkers seemed to fade. With a hand covering her mouth, Avery took a cautious step backward.

That only hardened Rowdy’s expression and tensed his broad shoulders.

Grinning, his friend—Avery couldn’t think of her that way without a mental sneer—grabbed napkins off the bar and patted Rowdy’s chest. “Oh, that was too funny. Glad it missed me, though!”

Avery said, “I wasn’t aiming for you.”

Ms. Touchy-Feely chuckled. “I’m sure Rowdy had it coming.” She leaned forward to whisper, sotto voce, “He’s the quintessential badass, you know.”

Rowdy’s gaze never left Avery. “I’m the one who was just attacked.”

“He’s a rascal, too,” she said while using the napkins to soak up some of the mess off his shirt—and in the process putting her hands all over his chest.

Avery tried not to care, but damn it, she did. Too much.

“He takes great personal pleasure in being disreputable and, well, rowdy.” The annoying woman leaned into him again and said with sugary sweetness, “But he’s also so lovable.”

“That’s enough, Alice.”

A dousing of ice water couldn’t have been more jarring. Avery felt her heart hit her feet. Oh, crud. So this was Alice?

Alice smiled knowingly. “Rowdy can take a punch—or a soggy rag, as the case may be—but beware if you try to compliment him. That’s when he gets surly.”