Prologue
Friday nights at the Eagle’s Nest bar and grill were a full-contact sport. The kind that required fast hands, a sharp tongue, and a solid pair of boots you could sprint, slide, and sidestep in.
Joy Davis wore her favorite pair—scuffed and well-worn, the leather softened from years of mischief. Her feet ached. Her braid was slipping loose. Her hands smelled like fries, grease, and beer.
And she was loving every second of it.
She’d worked here in one capacity or another for the past seven years—since she was sixteen. Knew every spot that squeaked on the worn wooden floor. Had carved her initials into the corner of the server’s station one night when she was bored during a snowstorm.
The bar was packed, country music pulsing under the hum of conversation. It was loud, messy, and alive—just the way she liked it. She spun between tables with practiced ease, one tray balanced on her hand, the other stealing a bottle from a customer who thought he’d serve himself.
“You try that again, Cooper, and I’m charging you double,” she said with a wink.
The older ranch hand grinned sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me unless you’re tipping me like one.”
A burst of laughter followed her to the back, where she dumped the tray on the bar and let herself exhale for half a second.
Her friend and temporary roommate Sloane Miller stood at the drink station, eyes tired, one hand discreetly pressed to her stomach. She wasn’t showing yet—barely three months along—but Joy knew that look. That mix of exhaustion, nausea, and emotional whiplash.
Sloane was trying to keep it together.
Joy took one look at her and tossed a clean rag in her direction. “You’re running on fumes, roomie.”
Sloane rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve yawned four times in ten minutes. I’m counting.”
Sloane pressed her lips together. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I just want things to work out between Callum and me.”
Joy softened. “Hey. You’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, no matter what.”
Sloane gave her a watery smile. “I know.”
Joy reached over and squeezed her hand. “Auntie Joy for the win. I’m gonna teach that baby to climb trees, eat cookie dough straight out of the bowl, and cuss creatively by age five.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I’m a menace with a big heart.”
“You’re also the reason we’ve had three beer towers knocked over this month.”
Joy shrugged. “Worth it.” She nudged Sloane toward the back. “Seriously. Go. Rest. Let me carry the chaos. It’s my superpower.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Sloane hesitated for a beat then nodded. “Okay. Thank you. Callum wants to give me a ride home, start this wooing plan he’s talking about.”
“You deserve to be wooed more than anyone.” They hugged, and Joy held her tight. They’d become such close friends in a short amount of time. “I’ll see you there in a couple hours.”
As Sloane slipped out into the night, Joy watched the door close behind her and turned back toward the bar.
And there he was.
Bear Bollinger.