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curl her other sisters had in varying amounts. Piper’s hair was wavy. It fell to her shoulders, thick and heavy as it framed her aristocratic features and gave her exotic sea green eyes a lush shimmer.
    Lyrica kept her hair to a length that fell just below her shoulder blades. The deeper waves in her hair bounced and gleamed with a blue-black sheen that went perfectly with her summer green gaze.
    Zoey’s hair fell below her waist, clear to her hips in those long, corkscrew curls that were impossibly soft and silky and made other women want to kill for them. Her hair was just as exotic as her eyes, which were the same celadon as their brother Dawg’s, that pale, ethereal color that always drew second and third looks.
    Eve’s hair was more like Natches’s: straight and thick. It was impossible for her to do much in the way of styling it. She pinned it up, put it in a ponytail as she had tonight, or just left it long to the middle of her shoulders.
    Her eyes were the same emerald green as Natches’s, but her looks, like her sisters’, were closer to Dawg’s.
    Big, bold, and as familiar in Pulaski County, Kentucky, as the mountains themselves, Dawg and his cousins—her cousins—Rowdy and Natches had been all that had saved her and her family at a time when they’d been certain life as they’d known it was over.
    It had been, she guessed, but Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches had made it better. They’d taken her, her sisters, and her mother under their wings and gave them a life.
    Her mother was given the house that had once been taken away from Dawg by the cousin that had betrayed his country and his family and had nearly killed Dawg’s wife, Christa. The same cousin Eve had heard agents accusing Natches of having killed. After Johnny Grace’s death the property had reverted back to Dawg, and had been sitting empty for nearly three years before Eve and her family showed up.
    He’d had the renovations done under her mother’s direction, agreeing to allow her to sign a promissory loan for the amount it had taken to renovate it. Mercedes Mackay had then opened the bed-and-breakfast she’d always dreamed of having.
    Her sisters were in college, and Eve had graduated from the local technical college with a bachelor’s degree in business administration.
    As she stepped from the shower, wrapped her hair in a towel, and quickly dried off, she grimaced at the paleness of her skin.
    It was June; by now she usually had a nice golden tan over her body, and instead of coming in at two in the morning from a job, she’d been sneaking in after a night of carousing herself.
    When had the fun and good times started leaving a bad taste in her mouth? she wondered as she brushed her teeth.
    She’d been in Somerset for five years now, and the past three years the nightlife she had once sworn by had quickly become boring, with a heavy air of immaturity.
    Quickly applying a moisturizing facial cream, she then lotioned her body and spritzed a toasted-vanilla body spray over herself.
    It was a lot of work to go through just to go to bed, but after eight hours at the bar where she worked, Walker’s Run, and waiting on tables in the outside smokers’ patio, she smelled of old tobacco smoke, the sweaty bodies that had brushed against her, sawdust, and the greasy food she’d served.
    She couldn’t bear the thought of going to bed smelling like the bar.
    Mackay’s Fine Dining, previously Mackay’s Restaurant and Cafe, the restaurant Natches’s sister Janey owned, wasn’t as bad, but it still called for a shower. Maybe she’d go work for Dawg at the lumber store for a while. Natches would readily let her work at the garage as well, but Eve wasn’t ready for the oil baths she had experienced the few times she’d worked there. His redneck mechanics thought it was funny to find ways to upend the pails of old oil in ways that left her covered in the nasty sludge. And though Natches always fired the responsible party when they could be