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event.
    It was possible she’d decided to skip the auction, too.
    He added more beers to the tub of ice and glanced over the balcony railing, gaze skimming the crowd, landing on a cluster of twenty-somethings in tight jeans and little skirts hanging out by the old jukebox, waiting for the auction to begin. He knew most of them. They were local Crawford County women with no agenda other than keeping a job, surviving the long winter, and finding a good man.
    Or just a man.
    Sometimes Montana women had to be practical. Far better to have some company than no company, especially if faced with months of snow, wind, and ice.
    “What’s tonight’s popular drink?”
    The soft, warm voice made something inside his chest tighten and turn over. He turned from the railing to find Paige at his makeshift bar, smiling.
    Her golden blonde hair was loose over bare shoulders, and she was dressed in a slinky black outfit that outlined every curve of her body, and then some. She had an incredible body, too. Perfect breasts, tiny waist, rounded hips and a firm full butt. He’d studied it all earlier at the diner, imaging how she’d look without the cute skirt and apron, but seeing her tonight like this, it was a revelation. She was all woman. And as long as he was in town, she was his.
    “Screaming Orgasm,” he said casually, aware that the guys at the railing were checking her out and liking what they saw. But how could they not? She looked like a Playboy centerfold before the clothes came off.
    The slinky black fabric of her catsuit or jumpsuit or whatever it was she was wearing molded to her breasts, and hugged her tummy and hips.
    “A Screaming Orgasm?” Paige repeated, sputtering as she said the name.
    “Would you like one?”
    Her cheeks turned pink and she bit into her bottom lip. He eyed her lip, and the way her teeth pressed into the soft, plump lower skin, and the air bottled in his lungs. He held his breath, counting to five, battling his attraction. It was so hard to just stand there and pretend he didn’t want her, and he hadn’t wanted her from the moment he first laid eyes on her three years ago.
    “Are they any good?” she asked, cheeks still flushed, making her dark blue eyes shine.
    “I’ve been told mine are the best.” He shrugged. “Not bragging. That’s just what the women have been saying tonight.”
    “No, not bragging at all.” Her eyes met his and held, her expression mischievous. “Although, if it’s a skill, maybe you should? I imagine you’ve put in time. Practiced.”
    He couldn’t even think of something to say because all he could think about was her, getting alone with her...
    What were they even talking about?
    “I imagine a lot of practice has gone into getting a Screaming Orgasm right,” she added thoughtfully, “and I hate to miss out on the fun, because your specialty sounds delightful, but I think I’d better stick to wine. Do you have a bottle of Pinot Gris or Chardonnay back there?”
    “I do.” He reached for the bottle of white wine chilling in ice. “And you look incredible tonight.”
    “Thank you.” Her smile turned shy and she touched her plunging neckline. “It is kind of low, isn’t it?”
    “It’s a grown up party. You’re allowed to look like a grown up tonight.”
    Her lips curved. “And once again, you say the nicest things.”
    “Because it’s you. I think you know I have a soft spot for you.” He filled the wine glass and handed it to her, waving away her money bill. “It’s on me.”
    “Why? No. Don’t—”
    “You took care of my headache this morning, I’m taking care of the wine.” He reached into his tip glass, pulled out a five-dollar bill, and tucked it into his money tray. “Where are McKenna and Taylor? Are they here?”
    “They’re downstairs at a table. I just wanted to come up and check on you, see how you were feeling, make sure your head was better.”
    “Headache’s gone.”
    “So you’re good?”
    “I’m great,” he