I am Not Your Melody: (steamy cowboy romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

conversation — knowing what the people in town would expect, what they were used to, and what they’d like in the future was important to her. Could be important to the bar’s success… to her success.
    “He kept it low key,” Bill finally said, his voice quiet. “In the winter, it was warm and dark, and in the summer it was cool and dark. You could come in, sit down, order yourself a drink, an’ no one would bother you.”
    “That sounds…” Dull . But she couldn’t say that. She tried again. “That sounds quiet.”
    He turned his head to look at her. “Some of us like quiet.”
    “Not me.”
    “I noticed,” he grumbled.
    They pulled up to a stoplight at the intersection of Main Street and Huckleberry Road, the so-called busiest intersection in “downtown” Bear Creek Saddle. There were about six cars that she could see, parked in front of places of business. They were the only vehicle actually driving on the road.
    Not a good sign … This town was deader than she’d imagined. Looking through the window of a butcher shop, she could see a man unloading some large game to be butchered. Weren’t people supposed to go to the butcher to buy meat, instead of hand it over? And who had a whole shop just for a butcher, anyway? That was usually relegated to the back of the grocery store.
    “Is it always like this?” she asked.
    “Don’t worry… you’ll get your customers.” Bill looked over to her, and once again she was struck by how good-looking he was. “Us cowboys, we like to drink.”
    Allie smiled to cover up for the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. If Bill kept looking straight at her, she might have to close her eyes. It was that intense.
    “What’s your favorite drink?” she asked. “Wait — don’t tell me.”
    She had an uncanny knack for guessing people’s drinks. It made her a good bartender, and hopefully it would be an easy icebreaker as a way to get to know the new townsfolk in her bar. Well… their bar.
    “I’m guessing you’re a double scotch neat type of guy,” she said, with way too much confidence.
    He started to look away, unimpressed, and she backpedaled.
    “No, wait!” Damn it, she was rusty. She lowered her volume. “You like whiskey . Double shot of whiskey on ice. You let the ice melt and nurse it.”
    Bill grunted and raised his eyebrows.
    “Am I right…did I get it?”
    He didn’t reply as they pulled into the back parking lot — really just a square of asphalt tucked behind the bar, and came around to open her door for her.
    “This is it,” Bill said.
    He extended his arm for her to grab hold of him, and she jumped out of the truck. His hand was surprisingly large, and warm. The calluses spoke of a lifetime of working on the ranch. But the pain in his eyes… he was broken.
    Completely broken.
    Allie looked at him and tried to smile. Her new bar was a small, one story building, made out of cement blocks that had been stucco’d over and whitewashed.
    “Plenty of folks park here, an’ enter through the back way there,” Bill said, pointing to an old door with the paint peeling from it.
    A chain, meant to keep the door locked, instead hung limp at the side of the doorframe.
    “Oh no,” she gasped. “Did someone break in?”
    “Well,” Bill said, “the usual. Happens when any building is abandoned. Kids think it’s their new clubhouse. I did it back in my day too, so I can’t blame ‘em.”
    “A clubhouse,” she repeated.
    “Even the older guys, they sometimes go in to drink since it’s convenient.”
    Allie nodded, determined not to make it into a big deal. If even the owner of the bar didn’t care that kids had probably vandalized the inside of his uncle’s bar, then why should she? Hell, Bill probably joined those guys drinking in his bar. A private party of sorts.
    Everything had to be fixed up and painted anyway.
    “Come on,” Bill said.
    He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her. The intimacy of the gesture took her