Jase cracked his eyes and peered through the narrow line where the Stetson didn’t quite meet his upturned face. A woman in a dark blazer and skirt stood just inside the front door of his saloon.
Hell. Russ must have left the front door unlocked.
Russ could just deal with it, then, because Jase wasn’t getting up for anything. He’d celebrated the hell out of his thirty-third birthday last night, and he needed to catch a few z’s before the Rusty Wire Saloon opened for business again. The wooden chair he slouched in and the one propping up his feet made a hard bed, but they’d do.