MELISSA POV I blush as I watch Boyd order me a beer from the pretty bartender. I didn't have the courage to go order it myself and he had prevented me from embarrassing myself by volunteering. The second we stepped into this loud room, I felt small and out of place. I had practically wilted into his side like we were on a date. He had acted like a gentleman, though, and didn't make a big deal out of my closeness. Instead, he had led me to a table, told me to have a seat, and asked me what I wanted from the bar. Now I am sitting at the table chewing my bottom lip and trying not to seem too awkward or embarrassed. As Boyd begins to head back with my drink, I force myself to discreetly look around, and I am shocked to see that Boyd was right, the place is packed with ranchers from today's sale. Most of whom seem merry and engrossed in conversation with each other, but a few are sitting alone, drinking, looking beaten down. They are probably the ones who were outbid and are rethinking
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