Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Does that bother you?” I ask in a tight voice.
“No. Not at all.” She leans forward and touches my cheek. Her thumb grazes my chin, but she’s careful not to touch my split lip. “I haven’t seriously dated anyone since…well, it doesn’t matter. I made a commitment to raising Libby and sending her off to college. Figured I’d worry about a serious relationship after that.”
Respect for what a strong woman she is grips me, followed by the fear of losing her. “So, I’m two years early, is what you’re saying?”
“Are we…serious?” Her voice trembles ever so slightly. And it’s not lost on me that she didn’t answer the question. “This is more than a fling?”
The word fling slaps me in the face.
I curl my hand around hers, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. So soft. “Emily, after the night I had, there’s no one else I’d go forty-five minutes out of my way to see.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. I’m trying to tell you—this isn’t a fling. I want to be with you every second. I hated watching you leave. Wanted to chase after you.” I’ve never admitted something like that to anyone before. Hell, I’ve never felt that way before.
“You did?”
“Yes.” I refuse to play games or hide how I feel about her. “The woman you saw me talking to caused a lot of trouble for my club a couple years ago. For some reason, she assumed I had amnesia and would welcome her back with open arms.” I shake my head. If only I could shake off that conversation. “I had to warn the other guys not to let her in. And then, work my shift.”
“To enforce the no touching policy?” she asks with a wry twist of her lips.
“Yeah. I take it seriously, Emily.”
“I wasn’t trying to make light of it.” She studies me carefully for a few seconds. “How…um, grateful are the girls?”
“Are you asking if they offer to thank me in pussy and blow jobs?”
She scowls at my crude question. “I guess if that’s how you want to phrase it.”
“Sometimes, yes.”
Her fingers twist the loose flannel of her pants, balling it into her fist. “And what’s your answer?”
“I don’t…that’s not how I run things.”
“You’ve never dated…slept with one of the girls?”
Fuck. She’s got me there. Frustrated, I run my hand over my hair. But I don’t look away or try to deflect. “I have. But I knew them outside of work too. One was a huge fucking mistake.” That’s an understatement.
One corner of her mouth twists. “I’m assuming that’s the one who showed up today?”
“Yeah,” I grumble. What are the fucking odds? Inga must have fucking radar for when one of us is finally at peace in a relationship and her inner witch decides to swoop in and throw a wrench in things.
“So, she’s an ex-girlfriend. I thought your conversation looked more personal than professional.”
“Not an ex-girlfriend,” I insist. As much as I want to be honest, I don’t want to share more details. The story of Inga and her relationship to the club is seedy as fuck when I already feel like I’m walking a tightrope. Thankfully, Emily doesn’t probe for more information.
Wanting to steer her away from talking about Inga, I shift back to the club itself. “It’s not a den of sin where we throw an orgy after the doors close.” I say it as a joke but given everything we’ve discussed, it lands awkwardly. “As much as a few of my brothers wish that was the case, it’s not.”
She snorts. “I can imagine guys applying for the job, thinking they’ll get to bang a bunch of hot dancers—”
“Yeah, we don’t hire those guys.”
“I bet.” She cocks her head, a teasing smile playing over her lips. “If you hire guys who just stare at the naked girls on stage instead of watching for trouble, your whole operation will crumble.”
I rumble with laughter which feels damn good after this talk. Plus, she nailed it.
“Exactly.” More seriously, I add, “It’s more than that, though. If they look down on the girls for what they do, or refuse to walk them to their cars at night, they’re not fit to work there. A lot of the customers are jackasses. We don’t need employees making it worse.”
“Wow, no one walks me to my car at my job,” she jokes.
“It’s necessary. We get creeps who think because the dancers pay attention to them inside the club, they must want to date them outside the club. They’ll wait outside with flowers and badger them for a date.”
“Yuck. I bet that’s the last thing on their minds when they leave for the night.”
More laughter pours out of me. “True.” The smile slides off my face. “You can visit me any time you want. Come inside and see the place. You pick the night and surprise me.”