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jowls but a friendly smile came right over. " I'm Wally, welcome to Carlos'. What can I get you, Miss?"
    She remembered him from her birthday, but didn't remind him of their last meeting. "Jack Daniels, straight up, with a chaser of ginger ale."
    He nodded and asked her for ID. She was ready for him, her identification in hand. After examining the birthdate on her license carefully, Wally nodded and handed it back. It only took him a minute to pour her beverages and set them down in front of her on the age-scarred bar.
    There was country music playing on the jukebox, and Jackie recognized a song she liked . She smiled a bit before she knocked back the Jack and took a quick sip of her ginger ale.
    A shiver raced through her middle, followed by a sense of muscles relaxing slightly. She adjusted her seat on the barstool and reached for a menu. As she was trying to decide among the fajita choices, there was a raucous commotion from the doorway.
    She glanced over her shoulder and immediately recognized the four men who had entered. They were ranch-hands, from the Bar-O, Rafael Ramirez's spread on the other side of town. Jackie had gone to school with three of them, and had dated the pack leader, Bud "The Stud" Ramirez, Rafael's son, while in h igh s chool. God what a fiasco that had been.
    They weren't interested in her as their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, but when Bud saw her, his smile was feral. He pointed and the group laughed and nudged each other.
    Bud nodded toward the jukebox, and he and his friends went to it and started feeding in quarters. Jackie released a small breath of relief. Apparently, Bud had better things to do than pay attention to her.
    One song ended and another began. "Good Girls Go t o Heaven," by Brooks & Dunn started with a guitar riff and Jackie ordered another shot.
    "On me," said Bud from behind her.
    She'd never forget that voice. Smooth as silk, deep and sexy as sin. Unfortunately, Bud was a bully of the first order and all that was good about him was his voice.
    "No, thanks," she replied immediately, not turning toward him. Maybe if she didn't pay him mind he'd go away. She tensed as she realized she wouldn't be that lucky. He scooted into the space between where she sat and the next barstool to her left.
    Leaning his arm against the bar, he regarded her slowly, his eyes traveling over her from the top of her head to the length of her denim-clad thigh on the barstool. "Come on, Jackie. For old time's sake."
    "I don't want anythin' from you, Bud. Not a shot of bourbon or your time. Why don't you go sit with Matt and whoever else those guys are and leave me alone?"
    The bourbon was set before her and Wally eyed Bud for a moment.
    "The usual," Bud told him succinctly, and Wally moved off toward the tequila selection. "I ain't seen you in town lately, Jackie. You finally finished up with that fancy college up north ?"
    She ignored him. It was rude but she really didn't want to open up that old wound.
    He sung softly, like a dark angel, to the refrain of the song. "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go anywhere."
    Jackie shot her bourbon and tried to pretend he wasn't there. She knew why he'd picked that song a nd his scorn bit her like a viper .
    Bud's tequila arrived and he made short shrift of the salt, lime and golden liquor, then turned back to her. "You still got it, Jackie-honey? Or did you find someone to give it to, finally? Someone better'n me, in your high-and-mighty estimation ? "
    Finally, she turned her head to look in his dark eyes. "Ain't none of your business, Bud. And it wouldn't take much to be better than you."
    He laughed. " Holy shit! You still got it ! What a prick-tease you are, Jackie."
    She glared. They'd grown up together, but didn't have the same interests as kids. He was a jock, and she was more interested in clothes and movies. High school had been an eye-opener, though. S he hadn't realized what flirting meant. She'd been trying out different ways to get a boy's