Or would he lose his cool and go after Kyle? He’d end up back in prison, and she’d end up exactly where she’d always been. Alone.

“Who are you making cow eyes at?” Gracie asked as she shimmied, pulling Caroline back to the present.

“Me?” Caroline said innocently. “No one.”

“I call bullshit!” Gemma said, giggling. Caroline had learned that Gemma was kind of a lightweight and tended to giggle when she got tipsy.

“Let’s see,” Gracie said, tapping a nail on her ruby red lips. “If I had to take a stab at it, I’d say it’s . . . the hot roommate?”

“Or Eric,” Callie said, a wicked grin on her face. Caroline was pretty much in love with her new friend, who had a sharp tongue and quick wit beneath her quiet exterior.

Gracie shot Callie a glare.

Caroline smothered a laugh. “It’s not Eric. Believe me, he’s all yours.”

Gracie blushed. “I don’t want him.”

“Which is why any time another woman even glances at him, you look like you’re about to Hulk out,” Gemma said, earning her own glare.

Before Gracie could open fire on her bestie, Wayne Coulter sidled up next to them.

“Good evening, ladies.”

They all made disgusted faces, and Gracie snapped, “What do you want, Wayne?”

“I was seeing if I could buy you ladies a round, and maybe my brother and I could join you,” Wayne said, ignoring Gracie’s tone and making no attempt to hide his eyeing Gemma and Caroline’s chests.

“No one wants to have a drink with you,” Gracie said. “You’re an asshole, and you smell like moldy cheese.”

Gemma smothered a giggle, while Caroline watched Wayne’s expression twist into an ugly mask of rage. “You think you’re so hot, that you’re too fucking good for us?”

“Please, a sheep is too good for you,” Gracie said, and Caroline inched closer to her, waiting for Wayne to either make a move or take off.

Wayne took a step toward Gracie, fist clenched. “Bitch, someone shoulda taught you when to shut up.”

Caroline pushed the petite blonde behind her and, closing her eyes, waited for the pain. It wasn’t the first time she’d been hit, but when the blow never came, she opened her eyes, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

Wayne was flat on his back, and Callie was standing over him, her legs bent in a fighting stance. She heard a scuffle to her right and turned in time to see Gabe put a struggling Walt on the ground, placing his knee over Walt’s throat as he shouted, “Simmer down!”

“What in the Sam Hill?” Eric yelled over the music as the crowd parted.

Caroline was sure Eric was going to kick them out, but his gaze sought Gracie, a scowl screwing up his handsome face. Then suddenly, his anger shifted to the Coulters, and he said, “This is the last time, Wayne. You and your brother get the fuck out of my bar.”

“This crazy bitch assaulted me, and you’re kicking us out?” Wayne shouted as he climbed to his feet. Caroline reached out and pulled Callie back, wrapping her arm around the woman’s shoulders. She could feel Callie’s trembles and rubbed her hand over her arm.

“It’s okay,” Caroline whispered so only she could hear.

“I’m sure you gave her a reason,” Eric said coldly. “I’ve warned you again and again—you start shit in here, you find another place to patronize. Gabe, I think you can get off him.”

Gabe stood up and stepped back toward Caroline and the rest of the women. The way Walt was rubbing his neck, she figured Gabe hadn’t been gentle, and it gave her a little thrill that he was on their side.

“Come on, Eric, we were just offering to buy them a round of drinks, and Gracie insulted us,” Walt protested.

“I don’t care what she did. Every week I’ve got to deal with some shit you start in my bar, and I’m fucking tired of it. Now get out, or I’m calling the cops.”

The two men stared Eric down before they started walking. As they passed by, Wayne shot Gracie and Callie a killer glare.

“See you around, sweethearts,” Wayne said, sneering.