on this late-September afternoon. The crowd sitting in front of the big-screen TV watched a college football game between state rivals the University of Arizona and Arizona State University. Conway slid onto a stool and waved to the barkeep. Red was a mountain of a man—six feet seven inches—and bald with a crimson beard that ended in the middle of his chest.
After handing a pitcher of margaritas to a waitress named Sasha, Red brought Conway a bottle of his favorite beer. “You rodeo today?”
“Got bucked off.”
“Too bad.”
“Where’s Isi?” Conway asked.
“In class.” Red checked his watch. “She should be here any minute.” Isi was working toward a two-year business degree from the local community college.
Red went to fill a drink order, and Conway picked at the paper label on his beer bottle and silently cursed Bridget. Why was it so difficult to find a woman who didn’t want children? After he’d discovered he came from a long line of deadbeat dads, he’d decided he didn’t want to follow in their footsteps, but unlike his father, grandfather and great-grandfather Conway wasn’t opposed to marriage. He really did want a committed relationship.
He wasn’t a braggart, but the face he saw in the mirror each morning had garnered his fair share of female attention. At twenty-eight he’d thought for sure he’d have found “the one” by now, but every time he began thinking happy ever after, “the one” decided she’d like to have children after all.
Maybe he should take a break from his search. He’d been handed the responsibility of managing the family pecan farm, so he had plenty of work to keep his mind off his miserable love life. He lifted the beer bottle to his mouth and knocked his front tooth against the rim when a hand slapped his back. Startled, he spun and came face-to-face with Bridget’s tatas.
How the hell had she known where to find him?
She planted her fists on her hips and glared. “Why’d you leave the rodeo after your ride? I thought we were going out on a date.”
A date? He’d ended their conversation with “goodbye,” not “see you later.”
“Howdy, Conway.” Sasha winked as she passed him with an empty drink tray.
“Is she special to you?” Bridget dipped her head toward Sasha.
“No.”
“Hey, Conway.” Isi strolled into the bar, backpack slung over her shoulder.
“What about her?” Bridget asked.
Isi stopped next to the bar and glanced between Conway and Bridget. “What about me what?”
Bridget glared. “Are you and Conway dating?”
“Heck, no.”
Conway wasn’t sure if he was offended or amused by Isi’s fervent denial. It was true they were just friends, but she didn’t have to act as if he was the last man on earth she’d consider going out with.
“You’re not his type.” Bridget gave Isi the once-over.
“Don’t insult her,” Conway said. Isi might not have been blessed with Bridget’s bust size, but her long silky hair and exotic eyes were sexy as heck.
Squinting, Bridget asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”
“Positive.” Isi and Conway spoke simultaneously.
“And Conway isn’t dating Sasha, because Sasha’s a lesbian.” Isi’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Then why’d you stand me up at the rodeo?” Bridget asked.
“I didn’t stand you up,” Conway said.
Bridget planted her hands on her hips. “You gave me your phone number.”
“He gives all the ladies his number,” Isi said.
Conway sent his “friend” an I-don’t-need-your-help glare.
“You acted like you wanted to see me again.” Bridget stuck out her lower lip in a pout.
“I don’t date women with children,” he said. “Never. Ever. No exceptions.”
“Who told you I had a kid?”
“I saw the Batman costume in the picture you texted me.”
“That belongs to my nephew.”
Isi snickered.
“Get lost,” Bridget said.
Isi inched behind Conway. He didn’t blame her for being cautious. Bridget was getting really worked up. “I asked a couple of cowboys about you and they said you had a son.”
“I swear he won’t get in our way,” Bridget said. “I’ll make sure he’s not there when you visit.”
“Sorry, I don’t date women with children or women who want children.”
“Then why did you lead me on?”
“Hey, I never asked you out on a date. I never promised to call you and I never—”
Bridget cocked her arm and swung. Having grown up defending his name from bullies, Conway’s reflexes were sharp. He ducked in the nick of time and Bridget’s fist connected with Isi’s nose. The blow sent her reeling. Conway dove off the stool and caught her before she crumpled to the floor.
“What the hell is going on!” Red’s booming voice bellowed across the bar.
Bridget took one look at the giant man and sprinted for the door.
“I need a towel and ice,” Conway said.
“Here.” Sasha shoved paper napkins into his hand and he pressed them against Isi’s bleeding nose then led her to a chair. “God, Isi, I’m sorry.” He swallowed a curse as the skin beneath both her eyes began to bruise.
Red offered a towel packed with ice, and Conway placed it against her nose.
“I can’t feel my face,” she moaned.
“Hang on, honey.” He wiped away the blood then spoke to Red. “I’m taking her to the emergency room.” Damn Bridget. Already Isi’s petite nose had swollen to the size of a kosher pickle.
He helped Isi to her feet and Sasha handed him Isi’s backpack. Isi swayed after taking a step toward the door, so he tucked her against his side and practically carried her out of the bar.
They drove in silence to the hospital. He figured she was hurting pretty bad if she couldn’t give him hell about Bridget. He parked in the visitor lot in front of the emergency entrance.
“I don’t need to see a doctor. I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Let the doctor make that call.” When he reached for the door handle, she snagged his shirtsleeve.
“I don’t have health insurance.”
He wasn’t surprised. Isi worked part-time at the bar and by law Red didn’t have to offer her benefits. “You got punched in the face because of me. I’ll take care of the bill.” It was the least he could do.
Once inside, Isi filled out the paperwork then waited almost an hour before a nurse took her to get an X-ray. Conway spoke to a billing representative and made arrangements to pay for Isi’s E.R. visit. By the time Isi returned to the waiting room, the bruising beneath her eyes had worsened.
“A clean fracture,” the nurse announced. She handed Conway a bottle of pain pills. “No driving while she’s taking this prescription.”
Conway shoved the container into his jean pocket, thanked the nurse and escorted Isi to his truck. “Do you have a concussion?”
“No.”
“Want