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,