When all the girls piled into one truck to ride together, Rip was relieved. At least this way, he could keep a watchful eye on them. But after the first five minutes of Shania Twain blasting at full volume, he began to regret his chivalrous offer to drive them into Bozeman. And that was before they started singing along with the music, passing a bottle of liquor around the interior of the truck. He laughed when he noticed Rachel jerked her head back from the bottle after only a sniff, passing it along to the next person without taking a sip. His sister wasn't much of a drinker. Or at least not a whiskey drinker. Another fact about Rachel that he added to the growing list of things he knew about her. One that made him smile. Rip drank. Because everyone he knew drank. But he wasn't overly fond of getting drunk. And he certainly had no plans to get himself drunk tonight. Especially since Rachel talked Kayce's wife Monica into coming to the bar with them and he now had her to keep an eye on in addition to the rest of their rowdy group.

When they got to the bar, Beth ordered a round of whiskey shots and beers for everyone except Monica and Rachel. Rip wasn't sure what Rachel leaned over the bar and ordered for them, but it was fluorescent green and served in a martini glass. They took their girly drinks over and parked themselves at a high top table near the dance floor, giggling together while they watched the rest of the women dance with their dates. There was a live band. And not a bad one considering it was just a smallish local country bar.

Rachel tipped up her glass, finishing the last sip of her drink. As if on cue, the man whose birthday they were celebrating approached the table and offered her his hand, inviting her to join him on the dance floor. Rachel glanced at Monica, feeling a little hesitant to leave the other woman alone at the table. Since she was the one that encouraged Monica to come out drinking with them, she felt a little guilty leaving her without any company. But Monica was quick to encourage her out of her seat, gesturing for her to go dance.

"Thank you for the cake," Lloyd said, leaning in and speaking directly into her ear so that Rachel would be able to hear him over the music.

"You're welcome," she said, giggling as he adjusted his hold on her waist and pulled her body closer to his. She didn't find Lloyd particularly attractive. But he was a better dancer than Rachel expected. And though he was holding her a little closer to his body than necessary, she could tell he was being careful to keep his hands where they belonged and not cross the line into disrespect. Whether that was because her brother was his boss or because he was a gentleman she wasn't sure. But when the song ended, Rachel found she was in no hurry to escape. She eagerly accepted Lloyd's offer and danced one more song with him before she knocked him a chaste happy birthday kiss on the cheek and headed to the bar for another drink.

Rachel took one sip out of each glass before she began weaving through the crowd, heading back towards her table with another round of drinks for herself and Monica. Instead of the petite brunette, she found her large hulking brother leaning on their table with an empty beer glass perched next to his elbow. She scanned the crowd, smiling when she spotted Monica out in the crowd, dancing with one of the other cowboys.

"I guess this is yours then," Rachel teased, pushing the empty beer glass away and setting the martini glass in its place. Rip glanced at the drink, trying not to laugh, then laughing anyway. To prove he could be a good sport, he lifted the glass and took an experimental sip. Cringing slightly at the cloyingly sweet liquid, he was quick to set the glass back down, pushing it across the table towards Rachel.

"Trying to poison me?," he joked. "What is that?" Rachel's laugh was loud and unapologetic. Rip could tell the alcohol she'd consumed was having an effect on her, but not necessarily in a bad way. She just seemed less nervous. And she was smiling and laughing more.

"An appletini," she said once she got control of her laughter. "I usually drink beer, I was just trying to be fancy tonight," she admitted with another laugh. Rachel hadn't been out to a bar in years. And she'd never gone out dancing with a bunch of cowboys. A beer just didn't feel festive enough for the occasion.

"I'm ready for a dance," Beth announced, plunking her empty beer bottle down on the table. Rachel smiled as Rip moved towards his wife, assuming she wanted his company on the dance floor. But she pressed a kiss to his lips as she pushed him back down onto his barstool. "Not with you," she teased. Then she grabbed Rachel's hand and began pulling her away from the table. Rachel laughed and let Beth lead her out into the small crowded area in front of the stage. They danced together first. Then Teeter barged in between them and started dancing with Beth. When she had her fill of that, she spun Rachel around. Rachel laughed as Teeter suddenly stopped dancing and took off for the bathroom like a rocket. Since her face had suddenly gone pale, Rachel guessed Teeter was about to hurl up some of the excessive amount of whiskey she'd knocked back in the truck on the way there. Rachel turned, looking for Rip so she could signal for him to get a water from the bar for their friend. But she stopped short when she saw an unfamiliar woman with her arm draped around him. From his body language alone, Rachel could tell the woman's advances were making him uncomfortable. But the woman was either too drunk to take the hint or too full of herself to care. Because she wasn't backing off.

It only took one look at Beth's face before Rachel was quickly weaving through the crowd towards the unfamiliar woman and her brother. She was hoping to diffuse the situation before it went any further. Rachel pushed between them, hip checking the woman to knock her back a step. Rip tossed his arm around Rachel's shoulders, anchoring her to his side in the hopes that the pushy drunk tourist would take the hint and leave. Preferably before Beth showed up.

"Hey!," the woman squawked, "...I was standing there." The woman stumbled a little, when Rachel forced her back. But once she righted herself, she edged around to look Rachel up and down. "If you wanted a little two on one," the woman suggested lewdly, "...you could just say so. Instead of being so pushy." Rachel wrinkled up her nose at the woman's proposition.

"This is my brother," Rachel huffed. The woman was drunk. And since all she was doing so far was just being annoying Rachel was trying to give her a pass. "Just go back to your friends," she suggested. But the woman didn't seem interested in saving what little self respect she had left.

"Your brother?," the woman asked. "I thought you were his wife." Rachel shook her head. Her eyes widened slightly when Beth approached the woman from behind and tapped her on the shoulder.

"I'm his wife," she announced, practically daring the woman to challenge her. Rachel started to move. Her intention was to insert herself between Beth and the drunk tourist. But Rip held her in place.

"You do not wanna do that," he warned, keeping his voice low.

Rachel stayed in place, hoping the woman would just leave. She didn't know Beth well, but even she could tell the woman was at her limit. And having been subject to her own husband cheating on her with a long line of bar whores he picked up at the casino, Rachel felt her own rush of anger towards the pushy woman. Women that went after married men were their own special kind of trash.

"I'm gonna take your husband home and fuck him," the woman announced. "You can come with us and watch, or I can tell you about it in the morning."

Rachel's mouth dropped open before her eyes narrowed in on the pushy slut in front of her. Beth grabbed her empty beer bottle from the table and swung it, aiming for the woman's head. But she missed. Because Rachel had grabbed the woman by the hair and ripped her roughly backwards. The beer bottle slipped from Beth's hand, smashing on the floor. Beth balled up her fist and got one hard punch in before one of the bouncers grabbed her, wrapping his arm around her neck more roughly than necessary and pulling her away from the woman. Rip went after the bouncer. And about thirty seconds later, all hell completely broke loose.

Rachel leaned back against the outside of the building, taking a drag off her cigarette. She had a fat lip and her knuckles were bruised from fighting back when the slutty tourist's larger friend decided to have a go at her inside the bar. The fight inside the bar got so out of hand that the police had to come to break it up. And they were currently trying to figure out what to do with the large and disruptive crowd they were now detaining outside.

"Those two redneck bitches attacked me," the woman hollered, pointing at Beth and Rachel. Rachel rolled her eyes, ignoring the woman. She started that shit. And she got what was coming to her. She assumed Beth was going to do the same. Her cigarette fell to the ground at her feet as she watched Beth storm across the small space and slap the woman across the face right in front of the police. When an officer grabbed her, Rachel felt Rip pushing forward. And she gripped the back of his shirt, holding him in place. Getting himself arrested along with Beth wasn't going to help anything.

"See!," the woman lamented, "...they're crazy!"

"I guess that wasn't the two on one you had in mind," Monica quipped before she leaned back against the building and collapsed into a heap of laughter. The woman just huffed. It was her larger friend that opened her mouth next.

"Shut up, you little piece of reservation trash!," the woman hollered, directing her words towards Monica. Before Rip could grab her, Rachel darted across the uneven pavement and socked the woman in her mouth.

Rachel had her feet up, lying back on the hard metal bench. Since it was physically impossible to get comfortable in the small holding cell, she'd been up for most of the night. Her back was spasming with cramping pains. Her face hurt where she'd been punched. Her mouth was dry as sandpaper. And all she wanted to do was sleep. Some regret over her actions was finally starting to set in. That racist piece of trash had it coming. But maybe punching her teeth in while a dozen cops were watching wasn't Rachel's finest moment.

Beth had been called from the cell about an hour before. And while Rachel trusted that the woman would come back and bail her out as she promised, there was no telling how long that would take. Rachel had never been arrested before. So she wasn't familiar with the procedures that needed to happen for her to be released. For now she was just stuck. She draped her arm over her eyes, trying to block out the horrid fluorescent light. Her push up bra was starting to chafe her ribs. And the cute little cutout sundress she put on the night before had become uncomfortable about halfway through the night. Since her knees were bent and her feet were resting on the bench, the dress was bunched up around her hips, leaving her legs and the edge of her black lace underwear exposed.

"Rachel Miller…"

Rachel lifted her arm off her eyes when she heard her name called out from the other side of the bars. The voice sounded more familiar than it ought to, being that she was in jail. It only took one peek at the man that was standing there before she realized that this was really and truly the most embarrassing moment of her life.

Jamie tried not to laugh when instead of pulling her dress down and making herself decent after seeing that he was standing outside her cell, Rachel flopped her arm back down over her eyes and let out a loud groan.

"I hope yer here to put me out of my misery," she announced. Jamie bit back another grin.

"Actually," he said, "...I'm here to tell you I can get all the charges against you dropped." He paused a moment before he added. "If…"

"If what?," Rachel asked, lifting her arm and regarding him with a suspicious glance. His suit was a different color from the one she'd seen him in before. Grey instead of blue. But it fit him just as well, showing off the broad cut of his shoulders. His hair was freshly cut and slicked back away from his face. He looked amazingly put together for whatever time of the morning it was.

"If you have dinner with me," he said. Rachel could tell he was trying not to look smug. And he was failing miserably. He had her between a rock and a hard place and he knew it. What a cocky little shit, she thought.

Rachel laughed when the other woman that was in the holding cell with her raised her hand like she was in grade school and announced that she'd be happy to take Jamie's offer should Rachel turn him down.

"Do you blackmail all your dates?," Rachel teased.

"Only the ones that turn me down," he quipped.

Rachel dropped her arm back over her eyes, her body shaking with laughter. Jamie couldn't keep his eyes off her exposed thighs. Or the way her breasts were jiggling with the force of her giggles. He'd already tried to fuck her off his mind. With that corporate equities woman and her perfect spray tan. Nothing on Sarah jiggled when she laughed. Not that she laughed much anyway. But his little tryst didn't work. Instead of helping him forget her, Jamie found himself closing his eyes and picturing Rachel's face just so he could maintain his erection.

"Alright," Rachel finally grumbled, swinging her legs down off the bench and straightening her dress out. Her dark hair was a wild tangle around her head. And there was mascara smeared under her blue eyes. But Jamie felt the pull in his groin the moment she looked at him.

"If you get me outta here right now and buy me the biggest iced coffee ever, I'll have dinner with you," Rachel said. He smiled, fully enjoying that Rachel was completely ignoring the fact that she was locked in a holding cell as she bartered with him for some starbucks. Which he would have bought her anyway, without it being part of their deal. He was reluctant to admit it even to himself, but Jamie knew he would pretty much do anything she asked him to. He was that far gone.

"Deal," he said, sticking his hand through the bars. Rachel pushed herself up off the bench and grasped his hand with hers. She only meant to shake it. But instead she found herself holding on until the gate started moving and she was forced to let go.

A few bits of paperwork later and Jamie was holding his car door open so Rachel could hoist herself into the passenger seat. She plopped into the seat with a little sigh, immediately leaning the seat back and resting her head against the headrest. She closed her eyes against the bright morning sunlight that was streaming in through the windshield.

Jamie got behind the wheel, directing them away from the county jail and back towards the ranch. When he spotted a starbucks up ahead, he turned, intending to ask Rachel what she wanted to drink. He smiled, chuckling a little under his breath when he realized she was already fast asleep. Her head was lolling against the headrest and her breathing was slow and heavy. Her full lips were slightly parted and for a moment he found himself mesmerized by the shape of them. Instead of pulling into starbucks, he pulled up to the next stoplight and wriggled out of his suit jacket. Jamie leaned across the seat and laid the coat gently over Rachel's upper body like a blanket, smiling when she pulled it tighter around herself. His house was a much shorter drive than the ranch. And for a moment, Jamie considered taking her there. The mental image of her snuggled down into his expensive sheets was a welcome one. But he wasn't sure if Rachel would appreciate waking up in his bed without having given him permission to put her there. And her daughter is back at the ranch, Jamie reminded himself. When the light turned green, Jamie drove forward through the intersection instead of taking the left towards his house in Bozeman. Instead, he headed for home.