Chapter 22

LYNN

"Wait, what do you mean he saw Larry?" The sole of my shoe squeaks on the finished concrete floor of the brewhouse that takes up the back portion of the Blue Bigfoot's unit.

Carter looks up at me from his crouched position beside one of the fermenters. His dark hair is ruffled, and he's wearing his usual uniform of jeans, boots, and his brewmaster apron. While a full apron has the potential to make some men appear more feminine, my brother's scowl and general grumpiness won't allow it—that, and his muscles. "I didn't say he saw Larry. Miller just commented that a customer came in on Friday and mentioned he saw a similar sculpture at a gallery in Raleigh."

"Yeah, but couldn't it be Larry?"

"No." He stands to his full height, which is an entire head taller than me. "You're one of the practical ones in the family. Why are you getting your hopes up about this?"

"I'm not," I lie. Not knowing who broke into the brewery last year nags at me sometimes—just like half the other shit that went down last year. Simply because things have been quiet for the Brooks family these past few months doesn't mean I don't think about it. And Larry was Dad's. I want him back.

"I wouldn't have said anything if I thought you'd read into it. Morton Frye has made a lot of sculptures. He probably has a whole series that looks like Larry. Besides, galleries don't just buy stuff without authenticating it first. It's not Larry." Carter turns a few knobs, bringing his focus back to beermaking.

"I guess." Still, if I broke into someone's business and stole an expensive piece of art, I'd probably fence it. What good is having it instead of the money if you're the breaking-and-entering type? Larry has got to be somewhere. Why not Raleigh? Surely, you can fake authentication. I plan to quiz Miller about it as soon as I can.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Cart asks the fermenter. "We don't open for hours, and you're not on shift today, are you?"

I dig the heel of my shoe into the brewhouse floor and adopt a more cheery manner. "Can't I spend a little time with my brother?"

"You can. You just usually don't."

My jaw drops open. "That's totally untrue." Isn't it? Oh, god, am I being a bitch to my family? "I only avoid you when you're trying to run my life. Besides, the Arrows are out of town, so I don't have work today." And I'm trying to avoid giving in and calling Joey, I add silently.

The temptation is strong, especially when I know his cousin has left town and he's all by himself in his condo. A good friend would probably call and ask him to go do something to take his mind off missing out on all these games.

But I've been trying my best to establish some distance. Even though we still text and play Words with Friends, I've made myself scarce in the treatment room when Joey comes in for his appointments. It hasn't gone unnoticed, and the approving looks I've gotten from Amy reassure me that I'm doing the right thing. It's all I've got to hold on to at this point, especially when Joey shows up with his hair sticking out every which way like he's been running his fingers through it all morning. My pterodactyls begin to stir, and I tell them to go back to bed.

"As long as you're here, do you think you can bring me a stack of pint glasses from the taproom?" Carter requests, interrupting my thoughts.

"Sure thing, big bro." I need to shed the negativity around my brothers.

I mosey out to the bar and stack up a half dozen glasses, running into Miller on my way back to the brewhouse.

"Yo," he greets me, looking half asleep with his dirty-blond hair falling in his face.

"Hey! Just the man I wanted to see."

"I didn't do it," is his immediate response, but I ignore it.

"Cart told me about that customer who thought he saw Larry," I prod, going more for casual interest than rabid anticipation.

"Oh, right." Miller shrugs. "It's probably nothing. I gave him a call to follow up but didn't catch him. I was gonna try again today or tomorrow."

"You mind if I do?"

My brother tilts his head and looks me over. I smile sweetly in return. "You know, if you need help, I can teach you how to relax," he offers.

I scowl, forgetting my sweet little sister act. "I like staying busy."

"Yeah, that's not normal." He yawns. "Most people like kicking back now and then, sis."

Yeah, when you have someone to kick back with, maybe.I don't give voice to my thoughts.

"Well, I'm not most people." I balance the pint glasses in both hands and try the little sister smile again. "Can I have the number, please?"

"Have at it." Miller shakes his head before pulling out his phone and forwarding me the contact info. "Just don't be too intense, okay? He's a customer."

"I'm charming as hell," I scoff.

"Is that what we're calling it?"

I stick my tongue out at Miller like the mature woman I am and head for the brewhouse with the glasses.

Not bad, if I do say so myself. Looks like I just got myself a little project to take my mind off the hot guy trying to steal my attention.