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His gaze locked on Delphi, and he was grateful she hadn’t seen him yet.
The other woman instantly scoffed. “Seriously? Her?”
Brewer nodded. “Only her.”
Delphi answered the phone, oblivious to his presence. He rather liked watching her in her natural element. The fact that he barely knew her didn’t matter. This was where she’d always dreamt of working. Somehow, he just knew it.
She smiled as she spoke to the caller and his chest clenched. To be on the receiving end of that beam of sunshine might turn him into a believer of true love.
The bachelorette hurried back to her posse of girls. He smothered the grin he desperately wanted to give the vultures. Delphi’s history with these women was a story he wanted to hear, but from her lips. She’d tell the full truth and not the half lies the other woman would undoubtedly spew.
Now, as he sat in the kitchen, savory scents wafting around him, Brewer wouldn’t trade this for even a possibility of the orgy the bachelorette had promised. Edgar outdid himself, though. It was the first time Brewer had French cuisine other than fries.Not sure those are even French.
Swiping the last bit of beef through the sauce, he ate it, licked the fork clean, and sat back. Delphi had yet to pop back in and check on him. Part of him was disappointed. Hell, he’d shown up unannounced. She should’ve booted his ass out onto the slushy potholes.But she didn’t.
“How was the food?” Edgar asked, stealing the plate away from the table.
Brewer patted his stomach. “Amazing. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”
The man old enough to be his grandfather smiled. “Italy. I went to culinary school there for a year.”
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“My family asked me to come home.” He shrugged. “So, I did. Family is everything to me.”
“Me too.”
Edgar grinned. “If boss lady comes back, tell her I’m taking a quick smoke break.”
Brewer’s phone chimed and he checked the screen. Dolly sent a grainy photo of what her Cutthroat contact had produced. He zoomed in on the man in a leather cut. It looked like Shovelhead, but he couldn’t be sure. The lighting and poor quality made it impossible to confirm his identity. He forwarded it to Rubble nevertheless.It might take a while, Pops, but we’ll get the asshole.
“Everything satisfactory?” Delphi asked as she slipped through the swinging door, her apron sporting a splash of red sauce.
“You don’t have to be all professional with me,” he said with a smirk. “Edgar is an amazing chef. It was delicious.”
“Good.” She pulled off the apron and tossed it in a bin labeled “Laundry” before finding a new one neatly folded on a rack beside it.
“Somebody spill, or are you just klutzy?”
Delphi lifted her middle finger, and he had to stifle a laugh. “No, asswipe. A kid spilled on me.” She let out a breath. “I’ll be glad when the night’s over. I could use a glass—no, a bottle of wine. Seems like I’m always short-staffed, and we’re consistently at capacity.”
“If you want, I can ask one of the nymphs to lend a hand.” He stood up, walked over to her, and tied the apron around her waist. The scent of her shampoo hit him hard. The clean yet fruity smell instantly made him crave dessert. “A lot of them have worked in food service before, so it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
She stepped away, and he immediately missed her. “One of thespecialclub girls? Not in a million years.”
“What do you have against them?”
“Other than the obvious?”
He set his jaw. “Mm-hmm.”
Leaning against the counter, she massaged the back of her neck. “That’s it. Just the fact that they’re biker playthings.”
“Damn, I didn’t take you as a stuck-up bitch like that girl up front.”
“I’m not. I just…. I don’t need your help.” Her eyes narrowed. “Andrea chatted you up, I take it.”
Brewer noticed the jealousy permeating her words. “She offered to do more than that.”
