He was halfway through his second bottle when the commotion started near the bar. Some woman, clearly drunk, was going toe-to-toe with a guy twice her size. Voices rose. Insults flew. Classy.

Then she swung.

The punch caught him somewhere near the jaw. Nearby patrons scrambled. A table tipped. Someone's drink shattered on the floor.

The guy stumbled back, shook it off, and lunged at her with considerably less patience.

Dean turned to face the woman he'd just rescued.

She stared at him. He stared back.

For one glorious second, Dean thought she might actually say thank you.

Maybe even acknowledge that stepping between her and a much larger man had been a decent thing to do.

He was wrong.