"What?" He stepped closer under the guise of getting another slice of bacon, and in the process his chest brushed her back. For just an instant, time froze. And in that infinite moment, he felt the fire of a future he craved--and remembered one simple, wonderful, confusing point: she'd said she didn't think of him that way. Not them--not Brent and Reece--just him.
And in the context of that particular conversation, the "him" in question had been Brent.
Did that mean she thought about Reece that way? As more than a friend, and definitely not family?
And even if she did, so what? She was right, after all. How could either of them risk their friendship for something that might be fun, but wouldn't last? Because he knew better than to believe relationships last. He was walking, talking proof that they didn't.
"Reece?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you move?" she asked, breaking the spell. "You're blocking me, and I'm desperate for a cup of coffee."
"What? Oh, yeah." He stepped aside, then watched as she poured a cup for herself, then passed one to him. "I really am sorry."
She took a sip, then lifted a shoulder. The robe swallowed her, and with her long hair parted in the middle, no makeup, and bare feet, she reminded him of a little girl at Christmas sipping cocoa. That illusion, however, faded when those eyes flashed green fire in his direction.
"There are a lot of jerks out there you could have saved me from over the years. But you should know that Brent isn't one of them. I mean, what were you thinking?"
"I'm pretty sure we've already established that I wasn't. Thinking, I mean." He pointed at the stove. "Go. Cook."
"Set the table," she ordered as Brent arrived and went to work on the eggs. It was a routine they'd been through at least a hundred times. And when they each had a plate and were settled at the table, Jenna nodded at
Brent. "So what are we going to do about Tyree. And, yeah, I mean we. I know I've been gone for ages and don't work there anymore, but I love him, too. So?" she demanded, looking at them both in turn. "What's the plan?"
"We need to know the problem before the plan," Reece said. "And I mean the details of the problem. More than just the fact that he owes money."
"Must be a shit ton of money," Brent said. "Austin commercial real estate isn't cheap, and it wasn't when Tyree bought the place, either. I don't know what he paid for The Fix, but I do know the down-payment wasn't huge."
"So you're saying it's a done deal?" Jenna pressed. She reached for the salt, the sleeve of her robe brushing Reece's arm.
"I'm saying that unless Tyree's been burying gold in his backyard, he's going to need a creative solution."
"We," she corrected, looking at Reece. "Right?"
"Hell, yes," he said. No way in hell was he letting Tyree lose The Fix. Not if there was anything he could do about it. Seeing Jenna's pleased smile at his quick reply was just a bonus. "This is Tyree, after all."
"I know," Brent said, his expression sober. He let out a frustrated sigh and sat back in his chair, his eyes on Reece. "He's like us. He's practically family."
Reece swallowed, his throat thick as it always was when he thought of his Uncle Vincent, a solider who'd died in Afghanistan at thirty-one, leaving three-year-old Mike and a young wife behind. Vincent Walker was Reece's father's only brother, a surprise who'd been born when Reece's dad, Charlie Walker, was fifteen. Also a serviceman, Charlie had served in Desert Storm, where one of the men in his command had been a green eighteen-year-old named Tyree. Years later, Tyree took Vincent under his wing and stayed with the mortally wounded younger man in the field despite the danger to himself from continuing enemy fire.
Reece had grown up knowing Tyree and thinking of him as family, which meant that he was family to Brent and Jenna, too. The three had urged him to take the plunge when he bought The Fix, and Reece and Jenna had been two of his first employees, with Jenna waiting tables and Reece tending bar before he worked his way up to manager.
Brent was still a cop back then, but he worked security during his off-hours, ultimately quitting the force to work at The Fix full time.
So, yeah. The Fix was home, and Tyree was family.
Helping him was a no-brainer. The question was how.
"Hard to say until we know exactly how much he owes," Brent said when Jenna voiced that very question. "But lending him the money seems like a good idea."
"Which he wouldn't take," Reece said. "The man's got pride. And unless you have some gold in your backyard, I don't know where we'd find the money to make it happen anyway."
"We could talk to Easton," Jenna said, referring to Amanda's former boyfriend who'd become a regular at the bar.
"If he's got too much pride to borrow from one of us, he's not going to borrow from one of the regulars," Brent said.
"Too bad," Reece said. "Some of our regulars have enough money they could just write a check. Hell, Cameron's sister won a Grammy, and she loves the place."