I knew she had her hands full with her injured brother, work, and the stress of recovery herself, but I also was getting the idea that shit was tight for her money-wise. If she couldn't afford to even take the day off after her attack.
I didn't like the idea of putting anything else on her plate, but if baking some cookies on the side was a legit way she could make some extra cash without feeling like she was taking charity, then maybe I would float the idea to her. What with Dezi, the club, the girls club and all their offspring, I could probably keep her busy most weeks out of the year with orders.
Maybe I would float the idea to her later, see what she thought.
"Mentally setting her up a baking business, huh?" Dezi asked, smirking. "Feels good to be the hero, doesn't it?" he asked, giving me a shrug as he turned and walked back to the door to head down.
"I don't like him," Brooks declared as he disappeared.
"And he knows it," I agreed.
"You think I'm being too hard on him?" Brooks asked, getting up, rolling his neck as he made his way over toward me, further away from the edge where he might be seen.
"Figure you have your reasons."
"I had to bust my fucking ass to get into this club," he told me, shaking his head.
"Did you?" I asked, brow raising.
To that, he snorted. "I don't know. Maybe not. It felt like it."
"Because you prospected with us," I told him. "Dezi doesn't have that pressure. Cary is new. Rowe isn't new, but isn't family. He figures he'll see what he can get away with, then model himself behind that standard. So he never has to go above and beyond."
"Because he's a slacker," Brooks said, letting out an airy chuckle.
"About chores, yeah. But he handled shit that night I got arrested. He made sure the video evidence was deleted. He intimidated the guy I fought. He bullshitted the police. After that, he got my bike back to the compound. He's willing to put in the work when it counts."
"Fair enough," Brooks agreed. "Besides, I think he's the kind of crazy-ass I'd want backing me up in a fight."
"Yeah," I agreed.
"So, you have a woman now?"
"Dunno. Maybe."
"Might want to know," Brooks said, moving away to head back to his station. "Women like it when you know." He paused for long enough that I thought he was done, before adding. "And when you know, you tell her."
And with that, Brooks was silent for the rest of our shift.
While I went ahead and thought about what he said.
He was right. It was important to know.
And since I was getting a feeling, I figured it was something I needed to explore. But not as the hulking guy taking out the garbage. And not, as Dezi put it, by being the hero. But in a real way. One that involved more than her passing presence.
As soon as I got a chance, I was going to go ahead and let her in on that, see if she was on the same page. You know, now that shit had quieted down.
Chapter Ten
Holly
"Glen," I said, jerking to a stop at seeing my brother's partner sitting at the counter. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
I didn't mean for it to come out as choked as it had sounded, but I'd just seen the guy for dinner with Shep a couple days ago. He'd barely said ten words to me all evening.
Granted, I'd made myself scarce, wanting the two of them to have privacy to talk once I was sure Shep wasn't being sullen and withdrawn like I'd been concerned about. But still. He'd just seen me. After months of, you know, not seeing me. I wasn't expecting him at my work, of all places.
"Getting some food. Talking to you about Shep."
"Oh," I said, stomach plummeting. It was a secret worry of mine that I wasn't being objective enough about my brother's situation, that I might be missing or allowing things that I shouldn't have been, that he needed more—or less—care than I was giving him.
The idea that Glen had picked up on something made me feel a little sick. Even if, objectively, Glen had known Shep a lot better than I had before I'd come back to town. Adult siblings of the opposite sex on other sides of the country, well, it was easy to see how we might have grown apart over the years. Meanwhile, he'd grown closer to Glen. He'd built a business with Glen.
So, really, there was no reason to be upset if I'd missed something.
"Okay. Let me just drop off these plates, and I will be right back," I said, my mind racing so badly I put literally everyone's plate in front of the wrong person, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I wasn't anticipating a great tip from them anyway. I found when you served for long enough, you could tell who was a good tipper and who gave less than the average. If anything at all.