Brookes moves next to me, his ropey arm snaking around my shoulders and pulling me close to him. “Is there a problem here,gentlemen?” he grits out, his tone laced with bitterness at the word.
Shaun and his friend both shake their heads, eyeing me. “No. No problem here.”
“Good,” Brookes says. “Then I’d appreciate if you keep your fucking hands off my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” someone guffaws.
Hell, it could be me for all I know because, dude, same. Did he just say girlfriend? I can’t help but gape up at Brookes, but he doesn’t even acknowledge my confusion, instead removing his arm around me and taking a step forward.
“Yeah,” he spits out. “You got a problem with that, bud?”
Again, the group shakes their heads seemingly in sync.
Satisfied, Brookes turns to me then, stepping right up to me, his big hands cupping my cheeks and forcing my eyes to his. “How much do they owe you,baby?”
It takes a moment to process his words, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Um… I-I?—”
“Breathe,” Brookes whispers.
Another thick swallow works its way down my throat, and I blink hard, snapping myself out of my daze. “A hundred and twenty,” I croak out.
Brookes flashes me the hint of a dimpled smirk and turns back to the group of men, folding his arms across his broad chest, keeping his body wedged between me and them. “That’ll be one hundred andsixtybucks.Plustip.”
Oh, God. I’m so going to be fired. I just know it.
Peering around Brookes’ big frame, I see the men all scramble, pulling out wallets and handing over cash.
“Keep it coming,” Brookes says, palm held out, waggling his fingers. “I saw you pull up in a Maserati; you can tip more than that, big guy.”
I close my eyes on a resigned sigh.I’m so screwed.
“Here you go, baby.”
Opening my eyes, I look up at Brookes to find him right there, again, a wad of cash held out to me. My eyes widen because there’s got to be at least six hundred dollars there.
I take it with trembling hands. “Brookes, I can’t?—”
“Who’s the member here?” Brookes says, interrupting my murmured objection and turning back to the party of assholes.
“I am.” Shaun’s buddy tentatively holds up a hand.
Brookes looks him up and down. “Well, your membership was just revoked.”
“What?” the man shouts, incredulous. “Y-you can’t do that!”
“I’m Brookes Devereaux,” Brookes snorts, pointing at finger at himself. “I can pretty much do whatever the fuck I want around here. So, finish up your game and… fuck off.”
I gawk at Brookes when he turns to me, ultimately dismissing the men with his back. And, with another hand pressed to my cheek, he leans in, his lips grazing my ear as he whispers, “Go straight back to the club and don’t say a word.”
Nodding quickly, I turn and hop back into the cart. And, without another look back at the men, I pull out onto the cart path and start back toward the clubhouse, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, and where the hell I’m going to find a job that pays as good as this one.
CHAPTER 5
BROOKES
I’ve had a seat on the Vista Palms Country Club board for the last few years. Maybe it’s entitlement, but here, I can do pretty much what I want, when I want. Which is exactly how I’m currently standing outside the staff-only entrance at the back of the club, right next to Poppy’s little blue rust bucket, right as she walks out into the night.
Unaware of my presence, I watch on as she quickly pulls her keys from her purse, holding them in an unnaturally tight fist, the jagged metal poking out between her fingers. Huh. This is an exclusive member’s only club in a gated community. What’s that about?
