Her overblown figure was poured into snug jeans and the typical summer camisole that was at least one size too small as it stretched across the boob job she was so proud of. Personally, if she were Sandi and she was going to get a boob job, Eve thought, she would have gone with one that more suited her diminutive frame rather than a set of double Ds that made her look as though she were going to topple over forward at any second.

Donny and Sandi were sitting with Poppa Bear. Grady “Poppa Bear” Aarons and his wife, Mary, nicknamed “Momma Bear,” were one of the older couples. Poppa Bear had been a commanding officer in the army, discharged at retirement, and as jovial as they came.

He had a Santa Claus look about him, though his beard was shorter, his eyes dark brown, his laughter booming. Momma Bear was only a few years younger, slim and still a handsome woman for being in her late fifties.

Scattered around the large table with them was Poppa and Momma Bear’s daughter, Baby Bear, a.k.a. Shanna. Also “Hondo” Grael—Eve had no idea of his real name—“Pooh” Yonkers and his sister, “Marbles,” and another brother and sister, Boo and Homer Kennedy.

The table wasn’t overly loud, but Bowie and Sandi were ensuring that each time Eve passed their table, some snide remark was directed toward her.

Returning to the bar, she tried to avoid the table, but it was the most direct path to collect the drink orders she had, and she would be damned if she would let the couple know they were bothering her.

“Hey, Evie, is Brogan avoiding you tonight?” Sandi laughed as Eve passed. “He’s been here for a while now, ya know?”

Yeah, she knew.

Every tall, hard inch of him was there, dressed in jeans, a wide leather belt cinched at his lean hips, a white shirt tucked into the denim, several buttons undone and tempting her fingers to play with those red-gold curls across his chest. A pair of scuffed leather motorcycle boots completed the picture of hard-core sex appeal and danger.

“Come on, Boogie, be nice,” Poppa Bear chastised her, using the nickname he had given her. “Scots might be on the other side of the bar, but he don’t take his eyes off her.” He laughed boisterously.

Edging up to the bar, Eve sneaked a look in Brogan’s direction and saw that Poppa Bear wasn’t lying. Brogan might be talking to John Walker, but he was staring straight at her.

Loading the circular tray with ordered drinks and lifting it until she could balance it with one hand, with the other she gripped the handle of the pitcher and made her way back to the bachelorette party she was serving.

“Scots likes all the girls, though,” Sandi remarked as Eve passed. “He’s not a one-woman man, Poppa Bear.”

Eve didn’t hear Poppa Bear’s answer as she made her way to the bachelorette party.

The eight women had arrived two hours before, and at the rate they were drinking, Eve had a feeling she was going to be calling cabs for the eight. She had yet to see their designated driver, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the bride wasn’t going to make it until the witching hour, as she had sworn she would.

“Hey, here’re our drinks,” the bride called out, the bridal nerves reflecting in her eyes belying the goofy smile on her face.

Setting the beer on the table, Eve put their drinks out in front of them, then turned and headed back to the bar for another order.

The bar, newly named Walker’s Run, was hopping. The band was incredible, the singers capable of crooning or belting out the latest country hits. With both a male and female singer, the band was able to give the crowd the songs they wanted, the way they wanted them.

Drinks were flowing, the dance floor was full, and the managers, John Walker and his wife, Sierra, were out and about ensuring everything was running smoothly.

It always amused Eve that the owner of the bar, Rogue, had more or less given the bar to her brother and sister-in-law, John and Sierra, while Rogue managed the upscale restaurant, Mackay’s Fine Dining, for Eve’s cousin Janey Mackay Jansen.

The restaurant was just as popular as the bar, though, and no doubt a line was starting to form at the doors there, just as it would be here soon.

Moving back to the bar, she almost changed direction and skirted the dance floor.

John Walker had disappeared, and Brogan had moved to Poppa Bear’s table. He was standing between Donny and Poppa Bear. Sandi was sitting on Donny’s lap, her hand stroking down Brogan’s arm where it lay on the table, a sly smile curling her lips as she spoke to him.

The sight of the blond-haired witch touching him had Eve’s fingers curling tighter around the tray she was carrying and her teeth clenching in anger.

Oh, she did not like that. Donny and Sandi weren’t exactly faithful to each other. They each took other lovers often, and it appeared Sandi had every intention of getting Brogan into her bed.

Serving drinks and gathering payments and tips kept her moving quickly. John had more waitresses coming in the next few weeks, but preferred not to train them on the weekends. That left Eve to fill in for the two girls who had left at the beginning of the summer.

She wished she could get out of it now. Each trip she made past the table, the other woman was touching him, and he wasn’t exactly making her stop.

As Eve approached the table again she avoided Brogan’s gaze. From the corner of her eye she watched Sandi stand and excuse herself.

Eve was almost past the group when she was suddenly thrown off balance and pushed hard into the wood railing that separated the bar area from the tables.

Reacting quickly, she grabbed the railing, righting herself before swinging to face Sandi.

“Oh, my God, aren’t I just so sorry.” Sandi breathed out, her eyes widening in innocence.

“Not a problem,” Eve gritted in irritation, picking up the tray and stepping up to the bar.

“That witch is out for trouble,” the bartender, Dakota Wayne—or Kota, as everyone called him—warned her as he took the orders she’d brought back. “Watch yourself.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

“Hey, while I’m putting your drinks together, could you run to the back and pull me some Jack and Johnnie Walker?” Kota called out.

“Got it, Kota.” Shoving her tips into the front pocket of her jeans, she moved quickly to the end of the bar, lifted the hinged top, and entered the “Employees Only” section.

“Keys.” Kota tossed her a key ring before turning back to the drinks he and the other bartender were quickly putting together.

Pushing through the swinging doors, she strode down the short hall before turning and heading for the liquor room.

As she entered the dimly lit, cool confines of the storage room and moved to the back shelves where the whiskey was, she was aware of voices in the office next door.

She lifted the large bottles of liquor and placed them in one arm, and was turning around as the sound of a familiar voice had her pausing.

“I don’t like it,” John protested from outside the storage room. “There are too many variables that could go wrong.”

“And if they go wrong, then we’re going to watch good friends suffer,” an unfamiliar voice argued. “We don’t want that.”

She didn’t want to hear this.

Deliberately bumping into a heavy shelf and causing it to smack against the wall, Eve cursed loud enough that she was sure to be heard.

The conversation abruptly stopped, and within seconds John was standing at the door of the storage room and staring into the dimly lit confines.

“Eve?” Narrowing his gaze on her, he watched her, not suspiciously, but curiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just been a long evening.” She moved more fully into the light, knowing he would be able to detect the signs of the headache she was fighting. There were few men, or even women, perceptive enough to pay attention to facial expressions or changes in them; however, there were too many men in her life who did just that: her boss, her brother, her cousins. The men who had saved her and her sisters five years before, and their very small circle of friends, almost seemed to have a second sense for it.