“A little over two grand.”
Utah whistles, then pulls his phone out. “I’m calling Rock. You know how soon you can get the window repaired and reopen?”
“Glass guy said it’d be Thursday before he can get the glass. It’s an old building, and it’s a specialty glass and size. I won’t be able to reopen until it's installed.”
“Maybe Rock can push the guy. What’s the company?”
“Smith Brothers.”
“I’ll send over a couple of prospects to help.”
“Don’t bother. I’m almost finished.”
“Expect a call from Rock later.” With that, Utah and Sully head outside to their bikes.
I move to the glass door and watch them. My eyes drop to the bottom rocker on the back of Sully’s cut. NOMAD it reads. Not COLORADO like Utah’s cut and like all the rest of them I’ve ever met. I frown, wondering what the word means.
A moment later, they roar off down the street.
I take a deep breath, my feet rooted to the floor, remembering the last time I saw Sully. The night he’d promised me he wouldn’t leave town until we saw each other the next morning.
So much has changed in my life since then, but I can’t help wondering what my life would be like if he’d stayed, if I’d left town with him instead of on my own.
I stand there a long time thinking about how that one decision on his part affected everything.
I finish with the broken glass, then grab my keys and head out to my car.
CHAPTER THREE
Maggie—
Driving across town, I pull into the parking lot of my brothers’ motorcycle repair shop, tires squealing and dust flying when I slam on the brakes. Through the open garage doors, I see heads turn.
Wrenching the door open with my shoulder, I climb out and stalk inside.
“The bar got robbed last night,” I spit before I even come to a stop, my eyes flashing fire.
Remy is squatted down next to a bike, a tool in his hand. He stops what he’s doing and stares intently at me. “What?”
Derek turns from the job he’s working on with another employee. He frowns and glances at Remy.
I catch the look they exchange.
“The place you bar tend?” Derek snaps.
“Yes.”
Cajun music plays in the background, reminding me of home.
When I left, I thought I’d escaped all the drama, but six months ago, my brothers showed up in town. How they tracked me down, I still don’t know.
Since the day they walked into the Gaslight Pub, I’ve never told them the truth. I don’t just bartend at the Gaslight. Iownit. They would never believe that in a million years. After all, how could their younger sister ever purchase a business?
It’s more than just the fact that they’ve never believed I was capable of much that keeps me from telling them the truth. If I’m being honest, the real reason is I’m afraid they’d drink me dry, expecting freebies all the time.
I shift my weight. “A lot of places have gotten robbed in this town, and last night, Gaslight got hit.”
Again with the looks between them. What the hell is that about?