Absolutely, Positively

opened in Pioneer Square,” the waitress said.

    “All right. I'll try it.”

    The waitress glanced expectantly at Harry, who sat at the head of the table. “What about you?”

    “Skid Road sounds fine,” Harry said.

    “Make'em all Skid Roads,” Gilford ordered.

    “You bet. I'll be right back.” The waitress dropped her little pad into the pocket of her short red cowboy skirt and moved off into the crowd.

    Leon watched her with a wistful expression. “Cowgirls ain't what they used to be.”

    “Shut up, you old coot,” Parker ordered. “Haven't you heard of sexual harassment?”

    Leon feigned astonishment. “Why, no, I haven't. Where do I go to get me some?”

    Josh heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked at Harry. “Are we having fun yet?”

    Harry considered the men who were seated at the table. The small crowd was composed of virtually every one of his nearest male relatives who was twenty-one or older. It was the first time he had ever seen them all together in one room.

    “I assume this bachelor party was Molly's doing?” he said into the silence that had descended on the table.

    “Whatever gave you that idea?” Gilford muttered.

    “Just a wild guess,” Harry said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the waitress returning with a tray of Skid Roads. He wondered how soon they could all call a halt to this farce and go home.

    Raleigh frowned. “Now, Harry, I know what you're thinkin', and it wasn't like that. We all wanted to give you a send-off. Isn't that right, Uncle Leon?”

    Leon cocked one brow. “Sure.” He leaned back as the waitress set a bottle of beer down on the table in front of him. “Hell, I'm always willin' to party.”

    Parker picked up his beer. “Would you mind answering one question for me, Harry?”

    “What's that?” Harry asked.

    “I've got no objections to the idea of you getting married. It's your business. But why in hell do you want to go and marry a bossy little piece like that Molly Abberwick? Son, take it from me, she's going to make your life a living hell.”

    “You can say that again.” Leon shook his head. “I'll tell you something, that lady's got balls.”

    Harry looked at him. “No balls.”

    “Huh?” Leon blinked in confusion.

    “She's got guts, but no balls.” Harry took a swallow of beer. “There's a small but significant difference. Maybe you're not particular, Uncle Leon, but when it comes to things like this, I prefer accuracy.”

    There was a moment of stunned silence around the table. Everyone stared at Harry. And then Brandon's mouth twitched. A moment later he exploded in laughter. Josh joined in with a howl of amusement. Gilford started to grin.

    “Son-of-a-bitch,” Leon muttered. Then he started to chuckle.

    Parker and Raleigh traded strange looks.

    Harry was the only one who noticed the three burly men in denim and leather who sauntered into the tavern at that moment. They appeared no different than many of the other tavern patrons, but something about them sent a stab of unease through him.

    The newcomers surveyed the room with expressions of drunken anticipation.

    “Damn.” Harry set down his beer. “I think it's time to leave.”

    Raleigh glanced at him. “What's wrong?”

    “Nothing. Yet.” Harry started to reach for his wallet. He saw the newcomers start toward the Stratton-Trevelyan table.

    With an instinct for trouble that had served him well over the years, Leon looked up expectantly. He grinned when he saw the three men bearing down on the table. “Well, well, well.”

    Parker frowned. “What's going on here?”

    “With any luck, the evening is about to liven up,” Leon assured him happily.

    The three men reached the table. The one in the lead sported a couple of days' growth of beard and a greasy ponytail. He hooked his broad thumbs into a wide leather belt.

    “Say, now, this wouldn't be the bunch of sweet-cakes that belongs in that fancy limo parked out front, would it?”

    “Who you callin' a sweet-cake?” Leon asked pleasantly.

    “Now, see here,” Parker said. “This is a private party.”

    A second man grinned, displaying darkened teeth. “Too bad. We wanna have some fun, too.”

    Leon gave him a toothy smile. “Not at our table.”

    “Don't see why not,” the first man replied. He swept out a long, hairy arm, caught hold of the edge of the table, and turned it on its side.

    Bottles and glasses went flying. Chairs scraped. The Strattons and Trevelyans