His eyes search mine for another second before he jerks his chin to a nearby table. “Make yourself comfortable and don’t work too hard.”
I take a seat at one of the tables near the fireplace with my notebook and get started on the payroll.
Meanwhile, the brothers are milling about, playing cards and shooting pool. Some of the club girls are doing their midday cleanup. Others are sipping drinks at the bar or hanging all over the brothers. One of them brings me a coffee and then stops by later to top it off, all without being asked. I remember what Queenie said about me being a respected member of their family and this club pulling together. I’ve been doing everything alone for three months, and it feels strange to have someone cater to me.
I’ve been at it maybe thirty minutes when I hear someone working near the far end of the bar. I glance up.
It’s a guy. He appears to be in his late twenties and is lean with dark hair. He’s carrying two stacked crates of empty bottles towards the back storage room. He’s wearing a cut, but it’s had all the patches ripped off of it. I know that means he was once in a club but was thrown out or his club was dissolved. Vulture always saw patchless cuts as a humiliation.
He glances over, catches me watching him, and gives a chagrined look. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” I state politely before going back to my work.
He sweeps for a minute before coming over to speak with me. “You’re Nova, right?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“I heard about the wedding.” He leans the broom against the bar. “Congratulations. I really mean that.” He takes a few steps closer and wipes his hand on his pants before extending it to me. “My name’s Bran. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Nova.”
I shake his hand to be polite, unsure what to make of him. “Do you work here, patchless brother?”
He gives me an uncomfortable laugh. “Yeah, but it’s more like working off a punishment.” His self-deprecating tone tells me there is something going on with him. He’s quick to explain it too. “I made some shitty decisions, and this club was gracious enough to give me a way to make it right. So here I am.” He gestures vaguely around the room.
“Fair enough,” I say. “I hope you work off your punishment and get your patches back speedy-quick.”
He motions to the payroll file pulled up on my computer. The name of my company is clearly visible. “Trucking business?”
“Yeah,” I say, closing the lid. “I’m doing payroll. It’s kind of confidential.”
I mean that to indicate that he should move along so I can get back to it, but he just nods and keeps right on talking.
“Your grandfather was a good man. He built something real out there. Everybody in the region knows about Vulture’s Trucking. You see those trucks everywhere.” He pauses and leans forward. “So, are you running everything yourself now?”
“Clearly, I have drivers,” I say, motioning to my closed laptop. “And they’re gonna want to get paid on time, so I should probably get back to it.”
“Right, of course,” he responds, taking a small step back. “I just meant, it’s a lot to manage solo. My uncle ran a small freight operation. I know how much goes into keeping those trucks on the road.”
“Don’t you have a job to do?” A deep voice calls out. It’s Flint, he’s Mica’s cousin. I’m guessing that even though he’s family, he’s not high enough in rank to be at the meeting which is for officers only.
“On it.” Bran grabs his broom again and gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry to interrupt. Hope you get your drivers paid on time.”
Flint nods his head approvingly and gives me a chin jerk that I guess is as close to a greeting I’m getting. Then he and a couple of other club members head out the door.
I go back to doing payroll once I’m left alone. But Bran’s question is stuck in my head.Are you running everything yourself, now?It’s a reasonable thing to say, the kind of thing any concerned adult might ask. It makes me wonder just how much of my personal business is public knowledge. Who am I kidding? My situation is probably just as interesting as any of the other gossip in our small hometown.
The chapel door opens twenty minutes later. Mica walks out with Jasper behind him. Mica is mid-sentence but stops talking the moment he catches sight of Bran behind the bar.
He stops talking to his brother but doesn’t stop walking until he reaches my table. Jasper peels off towards the kitchen as Mica sits down across from me.
“Were you talking to Bran? Flint texted me and said he saw you.”
My eyebrows fly up. “You mean the patchless wonder? Yeah, we exchanged pleasantries.”
“How long were you talking to him?” he demands tersely.
I’m annoyed by his tone. I hadn’t realized he was the jealous sort. I had enough of that with Devon. I huff out, “I don’t know, maybe five minutes. He introduced himself. What’s this about?”
Mica’s voice turns cold. “What the fuck did he want?”
