The party was a huge success.

Halfway through, she realized it was a little bit too successful.

Al ran the kitchen with military precision, and the waitstaff seemed enthusiastic about the crowds, but she was dying at the bar. The cocktails were such a hit, and she hadn’t made enough batches, so the line kept growing. Damn, she should’ve hired an assistant bartender, but of course, with her control issues, she hadn’t even considered it.

She hated denying someone a drink, but it might be time to shut down the cocktail station and just deal with beer and wine. Frustrated at her glitch in planning, Raven put her fingers in her mouth to blow a wolf whistle, then stopped cold.

“Hey.”

She blinked. Dalton had come behind the bar and was calmly tucking a bottle opener into his pocket and grabbing a dishrag. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Helping you out. You’re slammed.”

Her mouth fell open. “You can’t come back here! You’re not a bartender!”

His dimples flashed. Her knees weakened just a tad from the laugh lines around his mouth. Why were his teeth so white? Did he use a whitener or were they naturally that beautiful, like the rest of him? “Actually, I am. Or was. I bartended as a second job in California.” Those blue eyes tugged at her, filled with male mischief. “I kinda sucked, but I can certainly manage beer and wine. I’ll leave the more exotic drinks to you. Deal?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “No, this is a party and you’ve done enough. This is not your job. Go have fun with your brothers.”

He didn’t move, just as stubborn as her. “I see my brothers every day. I’d love to help you out; I found bartending to be kind of fun.”

“No, it’s not right. Go talk to some women.”

His grin was pure delight. Damn this man. “Already checked them out. Not interested in anyone. Besides, I’d like to help my friend.” He gave a meaningful pause. “Unless you didn’t mean it? About trying to be more friendly?”

Why did she even bother? She slammed a corkscrew on the bar and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Fine. You get twenty per hour and split the tips with the kitchen crew.” She grabbed the jar that was halfway stuffed and plopped a brand-new shiny one on the bar. “This one’s yours. Let’s see what you got.”

“If I let a woman touch my butt, do my tips go up?”

She rolled her eyes and opened the mini fridge. “Al will kick her ass. Now for God’s sake, go pour that guy a Sam Adams.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He turned to walk down the bar.

She couldn’t help it. She checked out his ass.

Two hours later, she admitted he’d been right. She would’ve died without the help. Besides taking the pressure off her, he flourished behind the bar. Charming both males and females, he poured drinks, remembered names, joked good-naturedly, and up-sold her cocktails. His jar was overflowing and the curvy blonde at the end kept stuffing dollar bills into it like he was her own personal stripper.

The man was too much.

“He’s something, ain’t he?”

She looked up. Cal jerked his head at his brother, then regarded her with a curious stare. The first time she’d met the Pierce brothers, Cal had stood out to her as the leader. He had a strong, quiet presence that commanded, and each motion seemed economical, as if he hated wasting energy on either inane conversation or action. Cal seemed completely solid, trustworthy, and low-key.

Completely different from Dalton.

“Yeah, he is.” A smile curved her lips. “He kinda saved me.”

“He likes you.”

She pulled back, uncomfortable. “Umm, well, we got to know each other better when he was restoring the bar and stuff. Seems like a good guy.”

“So I guess it all worked out for you. Restoring the bar, I mean. You were pretty stubborn about not working with him.”

Damn. She lifted her chin. “I was wrong.”

“Yeah. Maybe we both were.” She frowned, not understanding. Cal shifted his weight, as if measuring whether to tell her something. She held her breath, wondering if he would warn her away or have his brother’s back.

“He likes you,” Cal repeated. “More so than I’ve seen before with other women.”

“Yeah, he’s a player. There’ve been many women, I’ve heard.”

His gaze narrowed. Assessed. “He’ll be honest about who he is and what he can give. That’s not my concern.”

“Then what is?” she asked curiously.

“You. The way he looks at you. The way he . . . is with you. Just don’t hurt him.”

She swallowed back a gasp at the stark words. Cal was worried about her? Every time Dalton’s name was mentioned, she was warned about his reputation. About his womanizing, and inability to commit, and his expertise at charming the panties right off any female he desired. Never, ever had she imagined his brother would be concerned about her being some type of enchantress ready to break his heart.

“It’s just an act,” she insisted. “I’m a challenge to him, and we happen to have this strange chemistry. Believe me, it won’t be long before he’s moving on to the next woman who intrigues him.”

“Don’t be too sure. And don’t judge him, Raven. Dalton’s more of a romantic than any of us. He’s gotten his heart shattered before and still hasn’t recovered. When he loves someone, he doesn’t hold back.”

She pulled in a breath, leaning forward. The music and the laughter and the chatter drifted away as she hung on Cal’s words, which gave her a glimpse into the man who was beginning to haunt her. “I didn’t know he had a long-term relationship,” she murmured. “Who was she?”

Raw pain flickered in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she could have imagined it.

“Our mother.”

Raven had no time to answer. Cal lifted his beer, nodded his head, and walked away.

Stunned, she took a few minutes to snap back into action. And in that moment, she wondered if fate was stepping in, entangling her with a sworn enemy from the past whom she was beginning to care about.

He wasn’t even the enemy any longer. Just a man who may have experienced the same rage and pain she did and was learning to live with it. Maybe they were more similar than she’d originally thought.