The mellow hum of guitars and drums erupted from the jukebox, filling the overcrowded room of Slap Daddy's Bar with an added level of noise. It wasn't a big place, but it was the only bar in Greybull, Wyoming, so that meant if it was open, it was busy.

Miley watched the interactions between cowboys and wanna-be beauty queens as they prowled around the room searching for a connection. She snorted, took a drink from her already lukewarm beer and leaned back against the bar. In her mind, she was already figuring out who was going home with whom.

"Hey, beautiful."

The long drawl from her left set her teeth on edge. Without looking at its owner, she threw her hand up into his face and growled, "No."

"Aww, now, hon..."

She pushed her palm closer to his face. "Not. Interested."

The Cowboy Casanova grabbed her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckle. Miley gritted her teeth and faced him finally. "If you don't get your paws off me in the next three seconds, you're gonna lose your ability to reproduce. I'm a veterinarian. I have the tools. I have the knowledge. Back. Off."

The man dropped her hand, threw his up in surrender and backed away. "Bitch," he snarled under his breath as he turned around.

"That's Dr. Bitch, thank you," she called out to his back. He flipped her off over his shoulder.

Picking up her mug, Miley drained the last of the beer and dropped it to the bar. Bear, the brute of a bartender, pulled the empty glass away. "Another?"

She nodded. Tonight, she was walking home, so two beers over the course of several hours wouldn't hurt. In less than a minute, another cold draft was placed on the bar in front of her. She slid a ten over to Bear with a smile. "Thanks. Keep the change."

Miley settled in to continue her people watching. It was one of the only things to do in Greybull on a Friday night. The fact that she was single, twenty-six and sitting alone at a bar should have made her feel pathetic. Instead, it made her feel free. She didn't answer to anyone for any reason. She could come and go as she pleased and did exactly as she wanted. That thought brought a smile to her lips.

"Hey, there, pretty lady."

The mildly accented voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to look at its owner. A man wearing a pair of painted on Levi jeans, dusty cowboy boots, t-shirt at least two sizes too small and a Stetson leaned against the bar on one arm. His other hand was thrust casually into his jeans pocket. His chiseled chin was covered in a five o'clock shadow that was a little too perfect to be a coincidence. He flashed her a panty-melting smile, and his baby blue eyes twinkled. He winked at her.

Ugh.

Turning her back to him, Miley resumed her people watching as she sipped her brew. Behind her, she felt a finger on the back of her neck, running up from her shoulder to the nape of her neck then lifting the short strands of her hair.

Whirling around, she slapped his hand and glared at him. "What gives you the right to touch me?"

"Don't be coy, sweetheart. I saw you sitting here and thought you could use a little company," he murmured.

"You thought wrong." Miley brought her mug to her lips and drained the beer in one gulp. Dropping the glass to the bar top, she slid off the stool and turned to the door. "See you later, Bear," she called out over the ruckus then exited out the door.

A hand grabbed her arm and swung her around. Mr. Stetson stood there with a glower on his face. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem. If I wanted to be manhandled, I'd ask for it." She grabbed his hand and shoved her thumb into the webbing between his index and thumb causing him to grimace in pain. "No means no."

He hissed but took a step back. Miley let his hand go and whirled around. Striding off down the street, she didn't bother looking back at him. Within seconds she heard the increased noise from the bar indicating he had returned to the hunting grounds. Good riddance.

Adrenaline slowly drained from her system until she felt her heartbeat return to normal. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked. She hated it here, hated being away from the big cities where she went to school and did her first few years of practice. She couldn't ever tell Pop-pop that, though. He'd been so proud of the day last year when he had made a big ceremony of giving her the keys to the little four-room veterinarian clinic on the outskirts of town.

"You should have just told him," she murmured out loud. "It would have been better if you just politely declined his gift."

Yeah, right. There was no way she would ever have done that. He'd been so proud of her when she followed in his footsteps and became a vet. It was all she had ever wanted to do, and she remembered fondly the summers spent in Greybull helping him in the clinic. But by the time she reached her teens, those visits were less exciting than spending the summers at the lake with her friends back home in Missouri. That was before her senior trip to California and two weeks at the beach. After that, every minute studying was with the knowledge she would someday open a practice somewhere she could see the sun shining on the ocean from her window. She had even accepted her internship at a lesser known clinic simply because it was in California. That year only increased her yearning to settle near the ocean. It all came crashing down last summer when Pop-pop asked her to come up for a visit. Little did she know the trip would change her life.

Everything about the Ellison Animal Hospital irritated her. The location, the setup, even the clientele made her tired. She had nothing against big animals, but her heart was with the smaller ones. Instead of caring for pampered puppies and cute kitties, she spent most of her time up to her shoulder in the backside of a cow or horse. Miley sighed heavily to herself. It was part of the reason she kept her brown hair cut short. It had a fine texture which guaranteed it would refuse to cooperate and stay in a ponytail or bun. The first time she had to scrub afterbirth from the silky strands had made up her mind for her. It was just one more reason to hate this place. She always loved wearing her hair long and flowing free in a brown curtain that touched the middle of her back.

If it weren't for Marissa Montgomery, Miley would have already died of pure boredom. She remembered Rissa from her summers with her grandfather. However, they didn't become friends until Miley had taken over Pop-pop's clinic. They didn't get to spend much time together because she had the practice and Rissa was immersed in caring for her sick father.

Then he had shown up.

Miley shook her head to dislodge the thought of Rissa's brother. She had met Alcide Montgomery while he was on leave a couple of months ago when the elder Mr. Montgomery became sick. He was handsome, rugged, protective and so off limits; she wouldn't even consider it possible to date him. Not only was he Rissa's brother, which put him in the whole don't-date-your-friend's-siblings area, but he was a SEAL. He was strong, a dominant alpha man who took charge of every situation he faced. She wouldn't ever make that mistake again. Once was enough, thank you very much.

Jacob's memory rose up bringing the fear once again. Being alone on the anniversary what he had done wasn't a good idea. Instead, she had fled to the bar to people watch and get her mind off him. It had worked. For a while.

As she turned the corner a few blocks from the bar, a large pickup truck drew along aside her. At first, she thought it was the jerk from Slap Daddy's. Peeking into the cab, she smiled. "Hey, Rissa."

"Hey, yourself. You need a ride?"

She shook her head. "I'm good. I'm on my way home, thanks. What are you doing out so late?"

Rissa wrinkled her nose. "I was at the hospital."

"How's your dad?" Miley leaned against the window. "Any better?"

Rissa's shoulders sagged, and Miley could see the worry in her friend's face. "No change. Just keep praying."

"I will." Miley nodded toward the clinic on the adjacent street. "I'm going to get to bed. I've got a long day tomorrow. If you or your mom need anything, let me know."

"We will. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good, Rissa. Talk to you later."

She watched her friend drive off. Without Rissa, she'd already been half crazy by now. This town was getting to her. Turning away, she resumed her trek home.

Climbing the steps to her trailer parked behind the clinic, Miley unlocked the door and went in. The camper was small, but it was all she needed. Pop-pop had offered for her to stay at his house in one of the large bedrooms but she refused. Living with her grandfather would have stripped away what was left of her fragile ego. Instead, she bought the tiny trailer, gutted it and rebuilt it. It had a kitchen living room combo, a bathroom, and a small bedroom. It was all she needed, and if she ever could shake the dust of Wyoming off her boots, she could move her whole home with her. It was the only act of rebellion she allowed herself.

Toeing off her boots, Miley peeled her jeans and t-shirt off and stepped into the tiny shower. It was barely big enough for a normal person, but her five-foot two-inch body fit in it fine. Quickly, she washed away the stale beer and smoke smell from her body. When she finished, she slipped into her sleep shirt, brushed her teeth and climbed into her platform bed. Pulling the covers up, she stared up at the ceiling wondering if this was what her life was destined to be. She couldn't help but wish there was more. Turning over, she curled around her body pillow and closed her eyes. Wishing wouldn't help her and staying awake worrying about a life she was stuck in just meant she would be tired tomorrow. The Jasper Sky Ranch needed vaccines so she would be out there in a few hours, trampling through the fields. Hopefully, her dreams would be filled with something a bit more bearable, such as gorgeous sandy beaches and warm California sun.