The scarecrow-looking man leaned back and looked her up and down as if she were a commodity he was purchasing. In fact, all four men had the same appalling attitude.

She took another step back and made her voice louder. “Did you want to order or not?”

Scarecrow-man raked his gaze over her again, leaving her feeling as if she needed a bath. “Four beers—the cheapest on tap.”

As she sped away, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach eroded her enjoyment of the evening. How could people act like that? And what was she supposed to do?

She’d managed well up until now, even if she moved slower than the other server. Somehow, Felix managed to flirt with other cute guys while carrying a ton of drinks, all without spilling a drop. She was in awe.

Of course, he didn’t have cracked ribs.

She gave her orders to Bull.

“Thank you, Julie.” He grinned at her before continuing his conversation with three customers. At least, he didn’t seem to be worried about her being slow.

In fact, everyone was wonderfully welcoming. Okay, a couple guys had been overly friendly—why were some men so obnoxious?—but overall, the night had gone well. Till now.

Maybe Scarecrowman and his friends would leave soon.

After Bull set the four glasses of beer on her tray, she wound her way across the crowded room. At one table, Sarah from the coffee shop and Dante greeted her. At the next table, the gray-haired, bearded hippie, who owned the gas station, lifted his bottle in a salutation. His tie-dyed shirt was a work of art. She caught a whiff of marijuana as she passed.

The bar was a heady potpourri of scents. The fishermen sported a pungent combination of sweat and fish. A couple of Alaska Natives and several backwoods-looking men smelled of wood smoke. Tourists wore cologne and perfume in jarring mixes.

At Scarecrowman’s table, Audrey chose the opposite side and stepped between the two beefy blond men across from the groper.

As she set the glasses down, the bearded blond to her left shoved his hand between her legs and dug his fingers in.

She squeaked, jerked away…and the last glass on her tray landed in his lap.

“Shit!” He jumped to his feet. His jeans were soaked. “You fucking bitch.”

“I’m sor—”

There was a loud crack of flesh meeting flesh. He’d slapped her.

As pain blazed across her cheek, the impact threw her sideways. Unable to catch herself, she fell against the table’s edge, hitting her cracked ribs. Oh God. A short scream escaped. Her legs buckled. Her knees hit the floor, and she hunched, trying to breathe despite the agony.

Angry shouts and thudding boots sounded over her sobbing gasps.

As the pain started to recede, she heard a woman ask, “Are you going after that guy?”