AllFreeNovel
Share Us
According to Doogan, there was only one piece to the puzzle left to acquire: Eve’s loyalty and the perception that she was Brogan’s lover.
What would make a source contact him if he knew Eve trusted him enough to be his lover? What the fuck was going on in this damned place, and just how screwed up were the criminals operating here?
Pulling the cycle to a wide clearing at the side of the road, he turned around and headed back to town. Like Eve, he’d had no sleep the night before, and if he was going to seduce his wild little Mackay, then he was going to need all his wits about him.
Because seducing her wasn’t going to be nearly as hard, he feared, as keeping the independent, unfettered state of his heart intact.
He had a feeling Eve was invading it, and that could only spell trouble for both of them.
Besides, his long-term agreement with Mercedes Mackay included two days per week that he pitched in on the upkeep of the inn and grounds. And it was time to cut the grass.
FOUR
Eve could feel a headache coming on.
Right there in her left temple. It was that heaviness that assured her the discomfort had no intention of going away.
And she should have expected it from the lack of sleep, the upsetting meeting with her brother, and the knowledge that no matter how badly she wanted him, Brogan was out of her reach.
To make matters worse, some of the less desirable members of the small Cumberland Touring and Motorcycle Club had taken a table right beside the step that led from the main floor to the bar area. Two of those members were determined that night to push her headache from irritating to migraine status: Donny Sutherby and his lover, Sandi Mikels.
Donny, nicknamed “Bowie” by the club, was barrel-
chested with a bearlike body, thick armed and heavy thighed. His straight, conservatively cut dark brown hair was thinning on top, while his pale blue eyes always looked suspicious and mocking.
Dressed in baggy jeans and a dark T-shirt that did nothing to hide his too-thick thighs and biceps, he swaggered when he walked, and even when he was sober one would swear he was drunk.
Sandi, a part-time stripper in Boston, followed him each summer, taking her place on the back of his motorcycle for the summer road “tours” the group took.
How a part-time stripper could afford to take the summer off, Eve hadn’t figured out.
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.
