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Liv, Jo, Brooke, and Kelsie stood outside the kitchen doorway, each holding a platter full of delicious-smelling breakfast foods. Liv, Jo, and Brooke’s scowls and narrowed gazes promised pain and suffering in his immediate future, but it was Kelsie’s devastated face that stabbed him in the gut.
The phoniest smile he could imagine transformed her expression from crushed to counterfeit happy. She cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Here are the pancakes,” she said as she set the platter down. “Hope you all enjoy them.” She straightened, still smiling like a doll on a shelf, but her voice held steady.
God-fucking-shit. How was this woman so strong?
“Kels—”
She held up a hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I just remembered I need to…” She shrugged and took a step back. No point in making up a lame excuse. Everyone in the room knew why she was leaving.
Because he was an asshole.
Had silence ever been so thick and uncomfortable?
“Don’t leave. I’ll go,” he said, standing. His brothers’ disappointment and the women’s anger pelted him through invisible airwaves.
“Ty.” Curly stepped toward him. “You don’t have to go.”
“It’s fine. I need to swing by my office anyway.” Without another word or looking back, he tromped out of the building and toward his bike. Fuck going to the tire shop. A nice ride along the coast should help him forget how he’d shoved both feet in his mouth in front of Kelsie—again, and why he cared so much.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“SO, I HAD an idea.” Brooke sat on a barstool at the counter in the shelter’s kitchen, nursing a mug of coffee. She’d arrived an hour or so ago to ‘get some work done’ but hadn’t moved to leave the kitchen. Of all the women, Kelsie felt drawn to Brooke the most. Not just because she came with an adorable German Shepard who’d taken quite a liking to her but because Brooke had a calm and innately non-judgmental way about her that Kelsie admired. Unlike Liv, Harper, and even Brenna, she never tried to talk Kelsie into an activity she might not be ready for and never seemed to be hovering. Of course, their concern came from a great place, but sometimes it could be smothering.
Brooke seemed content to let the chips fall where they may and let Kelsie forge her own path. However, she had a feeling that might be about to change.
“Okay.” Brooke set down her coffee. “I debated whether this was the right time to bring this up because I don’t want you to feel pressured to agree if you aren’t ready or interested. But you seem comfortable here, so I figured I might as well go for it. But I want you to promise me you won’t say yes unless you are completely certain, okay?”
Kelsie pressed her lips together and tried not to chuckle.
“What?”
“You’re rambling.” She shrugged, unable to hide her grin any longer. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you off-kilter. It’s strange. I don’t like it. Though it is nice to be reminded that I’m not the only one who can be messy.”
Brooke laughed. She raised her hands in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll chill. And trust me, I’m a mess more often than not.”
Kelsie highly doubted that, but she didn’t contradict the woman who seemed to have it all. “So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”
“Well…” Brooke gave Kelsie her full attention. Kelsie also abandoned her drink to return the gesture and focused on her new friend. “You’ve mentioned a few times over the past week that you want to start looking for a job but are nervous about putting yourself out there.”
Nodding, she said, “Yes. I’m going a little stir-crazy. I’ve been pushing myself to be around men more, but only here on club property, where I feel safe. I haven’t ventured out into the world much yet, and I’m worried I won’t be able to keep from panicking, which makes getting a job tricky.”
“Understandable. And by the way, I’m so proud of how you’re kicking ass and coming to the clubhouse every day. Not only do all the guys respect the hell outta you, but they also think you’re fantastic.”
Her cheeks heated. “Brooke…”
The other woman raised her hands. “Promise I’m not bullshitting you. Just this morning, Jinx told me how brave he thought you were to sit next to him at the bar last night. I believe his exact words were, ‘That girl’s got a serious set of balls on her.’” Brooke did an uncanny Jinx impression. “All the guys feel the same.”
It was the first time she’d ever received that particular compliment. “Thank you for telling me that. It helps to know other people can see how hard I’m trying.”
And she was. She’d been shaking so hard last night, sitting next to Jinx, she’d nearly vibrated off the barstool and onto the floor. The surprisingly gentle giant acted as though he didn’t notice as he’d regaled her with ridiculous tales of his wild and misspent youth while she’d finished an entire beer beside him. Afterward, she’d fled to the kitchen, where she’d needed ten minutes to calm her racing heart, but she’d done it without a full-blown panic attack.
Progress.
The only kink in her otherwise smooth healing process was Ty. She hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of the man in the four days since he’d stormed out of the clubhouse after the most awkward encounter known to man.
She’d hoped to run into him to let him off the hook. Staying away from his clubhouse because of her wasn’t necessary. So he saw her as a damaged child? What did it matter? She was damaged—hopefully, not beyond repair—and even though she’d argue until her vocal cords shriveled up that she wasn't a child, he did have twenty years on her. He saw her how he saw her, and even though it sucked, he had the right to his own opinion. She didn’t have the energy or desire to hold it against him.
“Good,” Brooke continued. “Anyway, on to my proposition. One of the ideas Harper brought to the table regarding this shelter was to have someone be the overall house coordinator. When we discuss the role, we jokingly call it the Shelter Mother. This person would be onsite to greet all clients as they arrive, manage clients’ daily schedules, meal plans, divvy up chores, and basically handle the day-to-day goings on.”
