“We’re closed,” someone called out, and Judd spotted the bald sumo-sized guy wiping some glasses behind the bar—which was also simulated black-and-white cowhide. He spared Judd a glance but didn’t give him a chance to respond before he added, “You here about the cowboy stripper’s job?”

Since he’d been a cop for over a decade, and was fully dressed, Judd hadn’t thought he could be surprised by any question tossed at him, but he’d never heard that one before. However, he was wearing cowboy clothes because he was one. Part-time, anyway.

Judd tapped the badge clipped to his belt. “I’m Deputy Judd Laramie.”

The guy shrugged, kept on wiping. “If you’re here about the job, the auditions are by the mechanical bull.” He tipped his head toward the back of the building. “You’d better hurry, though, `cause they’re almost done.”

Judd considered another badge tap. Considered, too, adding “You here about the stripper’s job?” to the Stupid Sh*t Men Say board, but a direct question was the way to go here.

“Where’s Cleo Delaney?” Judd asked, making sure he sounded more cop than cowboy. Sometimes that laid-back drawl worked, but instinct told him the “good ol’ boy” approach would be lost on…Tiny.

Yep, that was according to the name tag he was wearing.

This time, Judd’s repeated question and tone earned him more than a mere glance from the bartender, and he actually stopped his glass-wiping duties to look at Judd. “We got all the right permits,” Tiny volunteered, adding some growl to his tone. “What you want with the boss lady?”

There was a dull ache throbbing in Judd’s right temple, but he resisted the urge to try to rub it away. “What I want is to talk to her. I don’t care about permits or auditions. Where is she?”

Tiny narrowed his eyes, probably trying to look like a badass, but Judd was better at it than he was. They played an eyeball game of chicken for a few seconds before Tiny tipped his head again. “Back there.”

In the same direction as the cowboy stripper auditions. Of course.

So that’s where Judd headed, and with each step he cursed Cleo. Cursed himself, too, for not trying to call her back so that maybe he could have cleared this up without driving all this way. Or seeing her.

Sometimes, blasts from the past could eat a hole in him. And even though Cleo had been somewhat of a bright spot, a hole was still a hole, and it’d taken him a long time to climb out of the last one.

Still…here he was. Intrigued, curious and hoping this visit didn’t undo him. Putting the pieces back together was a bitch he didn’t want riding him again.