But it meant something to Holly, apparently. Because she was willing to let hers color her opinion of LJ before she’d even had a chance to form one for herself.
Well fuck her. And fuck her father too. That asshole had no idea what would come for him if he crossed the line with the club.
“Thanks, brother. I’ll check in with you later.” He disconnected the call and bit through half his protein bar in one bite.
As he chewed, he contemplated what the next few days would bring. Copper was the patriarch of their family. He had an ol’ lady who was a damn good woman, and he was raising her kid as his own. Copper was levelheaded and fair, but come at his family?
Well, then the man would take on the devil himself.
Bring it, Sheriff Lane. Fucking bring it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHY ON EARTH had Holly suggested meeting with the owner of the town’s only diner at six-thirty on a Saturday morning? Because she was out of her mind, that’s why. Of course, she hadn’t anticipated a sleepless night of drama before her big interview.
She’d tried to sound sophisticated during her initial phone call to the diner’s owner, Toni, making it seem like she had a well thought out business plan and boatloads of experience. Some of that was even true, the business plan portion anyway. The experience? Well, she was working on that. She’d been baking since she could measure and had been to pastry school, so she had that kind of experience. Just none working in professional kitchens or bakeries.
Sounding classy and put together had flown out the window the moment Toni told her the diner opened at seven-thirty in the morning but she usually arrived at six-thirty and most of the staff at seven. For some reason, Holly had blurted out the ridiculous idea of meeting with her early in the morning, which only made her sound… “Desperate. You sounded desperate,” Holly whispered to herself.
Though, truth be told, she was a little desperate to find a kitchen and get her online business off the ground. So at least she sounded the way she felt…right?
“Okay,” she said aloud. “Get it together, girl.” She opened the trunk of the ten-year-old Jetta she’d inherited from her parents and carefully picked up the box of pastry samples she’d prepared. “You’re smart, you’re not half bad with people, and you’re a damn good baker. So what if you need to lose ten pounds. No one will care about that in this interview. You shouldn’t have changed your outfit ten times. That first one was fine. Now you look like an overripe strawberry.” She said looking down at the casual, short-sleeved red dress she’d worn. “Just go in, be charming, don’t stutter, and don’t fucking puke.”
Oh, my God. She was rambling. Aloud and to herself.
“And now you’ve gone from seeming desperate to craz—”
“Excuse me?”
Holly yelped and spun around, bobbling the box. Thank God, she caught it before it landed on the ground. As it was, she probably upset some of the frosting. Damnit. Off to a good start.
“Uh, yes, hi.” She turned as she spoke, coming to face a thin woman with short, jet black hair in a spiky style that would have looked ridiculous on Holly, but made this woman look like some combination of badass meets model.
“Are you Holly?”
And she was the diner’s owner. Great. Off to a truly disastrous start. Getting caught by the owner talking to herself while rifling in her trunk couldn’t be a positive way to start the meeting. She cleared her throat and stuck out a hand while balancing the bakery box on the other. “Yes, I am. And you must be Toni?”
“Actually, I’m Jazmine, Jazz.”
Which it clearly stated on the woman’s silver nametag. “Oh, right, sorry.”
Jazz smiled a warm smile. “No worries. It was supposed to be Toni here this morning, but I think she may have overdone it last night and was having some trouble getting up.” Jazz chuckled. “I volunteered to step in. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of interviews for her before. Oh, I guess I should mention I’m the manager here.”
“Ah, okay, then. How about we just pretend you didn’t find me talking to myself like some kind of crazy person because I’m not. I’m only half crazy.”
Jazz threw back her head and laughed. “Considering I was giving myself an out-loud pep talk about a personal matter in the car on the way over here this morning, I have no right to judge.” She raised her arms as if surrendering. “Call it even?” Jazz lowered her hands, extending one toward Holly.
“Yes, ma’am, that sounds good to me.” With a smile and a much more relaxed posture, Holly placed her hand in Jazz’s. The handshake was firm but welcoming.
“Follow me inside. It should be just the two of us for the next half-hour-ish so we can sit in a booth and chat.” She turned and started for the door, walking with confidence.