Sheenans were tough and practical. Sure, Troy had made some money in the fifteen years since he finished college, good money, money didn’t make a man, and money certainly didn’t define him.

Troy drove down Main Street to Grey’s Saloon.

No one at Grey’s bowed and scraped. Grey didn’t tolerate airs. The only one at Grey’s Saloon with attitude was Grey himself, the surly bastard.

Troy stepped from his SUV, pocketed his keys, entered the corner building, and took a seat at the bar. Tonight it was Reese behind the counter and Reese poured Troy a shot of whiskey, neat, before giving Troy space. Good man.

Troy nursed the whiskey for a bit, welcoming the space and quiet. After a bit, Reese returned and they talked the way men liked to talk, about not much of anything, which was the best sort of conversation because it was never too personal and, therefore, never too uncomfortable. Men didn’t need to share their feelings, not like women.

“Another one?” Reese asked, approaching Troy and gesturing to his empty tumbler.

Troy nodded and slid the glass across the counter.

Taylor Harris kissed like a pin up. Her lips were soft and sweet but she kissed with heat.

There’d been serious heat in that kiss. Serious chemistry, too.

Troy hardened again, remembering.

“You’re in town for the ball,” Reese said as he placed the fresh whiskey in front of Troy.

“Yeah.”

“Who are you taking?”

Troy shifted. “Taylor Harris.”

Reese frowned. “Do I know her?”

“She’s the new librarian.”

“The librarian?” Reese shot him an amused glance. “Not your usual type.”

Troy chose not to dignify the remark. He took a long drink from his glass. The whiskey burned going down, a good kind of burn. “So are you going Friday night?” he asked Reese.

“To the ball?” Reese shook his head. “Not my thing.”

“Apparently it’s not a lot of folks’ thing.” Troy grimaced. “Seemed like a good idea back in the fall, but I’ve been away from Montana a long time. I’d forgotten that folks here aren’t into fancy dress balls.”

“Especially in the dead of winter.”

“Winter’s harsh this year.”

“Winter is harsh here every year.” Reese leaned against the counter behind him. “I guess it’s easy to forget the twenty below zero wind chill when you don’t even need a coat in February in San Francisco.”

“Oh, you need a coat in San Francisco. But just a thin one,” Troy retorted. He raised his glass. “To all the idealistic bastards in the world with more balls than brains.”

“The world needs idealistic bastards to balance out the assholes and realists.”

“Which one are you?”

Reese smiled darkly. “What do you think?”

“I think there’s a tender idealist buried somewhere deep inside you.” Troy grinned crookedly. “But I won’t tell anyone.”

“And I was just about to compliment you for doing a good thing here in this town.”

“The ball?”

“The Graff.”

“Huh.”

“Marietta didn’t need the Graff, but you’ve done something this town can be proud of. And that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe you should have been my date Friday night,” Troy said.

“You are pretty, but you’re not quite my type.”

Troy laughed. “I’m crushed.”

Taylor couldn’t wait for work to end Wednesday. She was looking forward to meeting up with McKenna and going dress shopping at Married in Marietta, because now Taylor needed a dress, too.

It’d been a long time since Taylor did something like this. Even longer since she’d needed to dress up for something. For the last couple of years she’d been focused on work, and getting Doug the help he needed.