Stirring up the Sheriff (Wildhorse Ranch Brothers Book 3) by Leslie North

Author:Leslie North [North, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-30T18:30:00+00:00

8

Trent

"What did you say this place was called again?"

Marianne's voice was all trepidation as Trent held the door to the bar open for her. To her credit, however nervous she felt in that moment, she hid it well; she strutted with calm class into the establishment, and every male eye that wasn't occupied with a drink fixed on her in an instant.

"When's the last time you've been inside anything that wasn't a brewpub?" he had asked her in the car on the way over.

"Does my own home count?" she returned.

"The Swing Station," Trent said now with pride. He fixed his hands on his hips and surveyed the terrain. "Out of my jurisdiction, which means anything that goes wrong isn't my problem."

"I don't believe that for a second," Marianne muttered. She made a beeline for the bar, and Trent followed, raising his eyebrow in question. "I don't believe for a second that you could keep your nose out of anything even if it doesn't directly concern you."

"Makes me a damn fine sheriff," Trent agreed. More eyes turned to him than Marianne at his claim, and he figured the bartender was in for an easy night. He rolled up to the bar and signaled the keep. "Hey, there. Mind if we take one of those back rooms off your hands?"

"Sure," the bartender replied. "It's five bucks if you want to rent it out for the rest of the night."

"Ouch," Trent joked as he dug for his wallet. He didn't mean it, of course; five bucks was well worth the price of admission, and he was just getting started with his plan. He dropped a twenty on the counter and passed one of the whiskeys that magically appeared there to Marianne. "Keep 'em coming," he told the bartender as he moved off toward the back of the Station.

"What's…what's in the room?" Marianne asked nervously as she followed after him. She coughed and waved a hand in front of her to disperse a cloud of cigarette smoke; the smoker leered from his table.

Trent grinned with what he thought was the appropriate amount of mystery as he shouldered open the door. Marianne peered inside and saw the dark green poker table. She exhaled.

"What'd you think I was leading you into?" Trent asked her in amusement.

"I'm not sure," she replied as she swept by him. "A den of sin, maybe? Even dennier and sinnier than the one we just left?"

"I just wanted to give you a taste for what a real honky tonk is like. No bells, no whistles." He pulled out a chair for her, and Marianne sat down.

"I saw plenty of bells coming in here," she noted. "And I'm pretty sure a few of those men would have definitely whistled at me—or worse—if I wasn't with you."

"I mean it isn't fancy. It isn't high-class. What it is, is good, dirty fun. Sometimes things get wild." Trent waved toward the door as he fell into a chair. "Sometimes I have to break it up. Sometimes I even have to arrest people.

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