The Dance (28 page)

“Hart’s the designated driver for the night,” Ronnie said.

I craned my neck, looking past the guys at the car. “Are we all going to fit?”

Hart was already in the driver’s seat, dismantling his chair, handing off each part to Colin to store in the rear of the car. “It will be a tight fit but we’ll make it work.”

“I like it tight.” Doug winked at me.

Hart shot a death glare at Doug. “Bryson, you’ll be upfront with me.”

The guys and I piled into the car and we headed out of the parking lot.

“So where exactly are we going?” I asked.

“A bar.” Colin offered up.

“I figured that. I meant what’s the name of the bar?”

I glanced over at Hart, the streetlights casting shadows over his chiseled face.

Doug’s voice drifted from the back seat. “The kind that serves adult beverages.”

It was the first thing out of his mouth that didn’t sound lewd.

Since I wasn’t having any success getting a straight answer out of these guys, I shifted my focus out the window with the occasional inconspicuous peek at Hart.

At one point, I acted like I was just checking out the scenery as my gaze roamed over to Hart’s side. His confidence was radioactive. I didn’t know if it was his protectiveness from earlier or his quiet strength that had my body buzzing. I jerked my gaze away the few times he’d caught me but not before witnessing a big grin break out across his face.

I was in the midst of a good long look when suddenly the car stopped.

“Everybody out!” Hart announced.

The guys tumbled out into the parking lot. Doug and Ronnie hovered around the front of the car while Colin headed toward the back.

I turned to Hart. “Do you need my help with anything?”

“Nah, Colin will get the parts from the back.”

“Okay.”

I twisted in the seat and placed my hand on the door handle.

“Bryson, wait for me by the car.” Hart’s tone was firm and adamant.

“Okay.”

I slid from the passenger seat and closed the door. As I rounded the front of the car, I caught a glimpse of the building in front of me.

“Um . . . whoa . . . whoa . . . whoa . . . this is a strip club.” My pitch reached heights only dogs could hear.

Hart was attaching the second wheel to his chair. The blinking neon sign lit his face just enough for me to see the corners of his mouth twitch in a poor attempt to hide his amusement.

“Hell, yeah, it is!” Doug shouted.

“I thought we were going to a bar for drinks.”

Colin walked up next to me. “There’s a bar inside.”

“Um . . . there are a ton of . . . um . . . regular bars in town. Why this one?” I stammered.

Doug draped his arm over Ronnie’s shoulder. “Cause it’s our boy’s final moments of freedom.”

I whipped my head toward Ronnie. “You’re getting married?”

He grinned from ear-to-ear. “Yeah, next weekend.”

Standing firm with hands on hips, I said, “You guys didn’t tell me this was a bachelor party.”

Colin tilted his head, trying to look all innocent. “Didn’t we mention that?”

Looking at each other feigning confusion, Ronnie and Doug mumbled and muttered.

“I thought we mentioned it.” Ronnie piped up.

Doug agreed. “I’m positive we said something.”

My head shook back and forth so quickly I could hear my brain rattling along with my nerves. “I can’t go in there.”

“You’re over twenty-one, right?” Ronnie joked.

I nodded blankly.

Colin draped his arm loosely around my shoulders. “If we’re lucky it might be open pole night.”

My jaw went slack as my eyes stretched wide. “Open pole night? What’s that?”

Doug positioned himself directly in front of me. “It’s when they let the lady customers ride the pole.” He gyrated his hips while his eyebrows danced.

Hart’s booming voice startled us all. “God dammit, Doug! I warned you!”

Doug threw his hands in the air and backed away. “Just having a little innocent fun with the princess.”

Hart slid from the driver’s seat into his chair. “Y’all go ahead. Bryson and I will catch up.”

The guys quickly headed toward the giant lady-shaped sign with the flashing neon nipples.

The crunch of the gravel echoed in my ears as Hart rolled up beside me. “I can take you back to your car. No problem.”

I didn’t want to go back to my car. And I didn’t particularly want to go in the strip club. But I wanted more time with Hart.

“That’s not necessary. I don’t want to ruin your night. I’m fine. I’ve seen naked women before. I get naked every day . . . obviously not out in public with a pole between my legs . . .”

“Bryson . . .”

“Girls gotta make a living though. Right? Who am I to judge . . .?”

I felt the touch of his large warm hand grab mine. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Just say the word and I’ll whisk you away.”

Gazing at his sincere expression, I felt safe.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I took a deep breath before Hart and I headed into the club.

My only frame of reference in regards to a strip club was from TV and movies. I expected the inside to be seedy and full of middle-aged men in ugly leisure suits with comb-overs. To my surprise there were several female customers, some looked to be part of bachelorette parties and others were there with men. The clientele looked normal and not creepy at all. Tall leggy topless women constantly circled the large dimly light room carrying trays of drinks. The loud pulsating music pushed on my chest.

Hart and I weaved through the dense crowd until we spotted the guys sitting at a table a few feet back from the main stage. I did as Hart had told me and stayed close by his side until we reached our table. Smiling up at me, Doug patted the empty seat beside him. I hesitated for several seconds until I saw Hart take the spot on the other side of the chair. Relaxing a little, I positioned myself between the two guys. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed with the flashing lights, the crowd, and the naked women. Hart must have sensed my anxiety. Placing his warm hand over mine, he gave it a slight squeeze.

With my attention aimed forward, the large stage suddenly went dark. The crowd erupted into whistles, hollers, and the occasional bark. The song
Earned It
by The Weekend seductively surrounded the room. The stage lights slowly brightened, revealing the silhouette of a tall curvy female. She swayed her way into the light toward the pole at center stage. My brows furrowed as I took in what she was wearing, sparkly pasties with matching thong and killer heels. For a stripper, there was very little on her to strip down to.

“How ya doing?” I was so focused on the show, I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of Hart’s voice in my ear.

I turned to face him, putting us only an inch apart. My eyes closed slightly as the scent of warm pumpkin pie wafted over me.

“Bryson?”

My eyes shot open to a grinning Hart. “Trying to take it all in.”

Neither of us moved for . . .

One Mississippi.

Two Mississippi.

Hart blinked, pulled away, and fished his phone from the front pocket of his jeans.

After reading what I assumed was a text, his eyes met mine. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re leaving?” The panic obvious in my voice.

“Just for a few minutes. Don’t move.”

I slowly nodded, my gaze staying glued to Hart as he left my side.

The clank of a glass being placed in front of me caused my head to snap forward. I looked down at a shot glass full of amber liquid.

Twisting my head to the right, I saw all three guys smiling my way with their own shots ready to be chugged. “Hey, I didn’t order this.”

Colin raised his glass. “First round’s on me.”

“Maybe we should wait until Hart comes back,” I yelled over the music.

Lifting his glass, Doug nodded in the direction Hart went. “By the looks of things our boy won’t be coming back for a while. That a boy, Hart!” he shouted.

A huge lump formed in the middle of my throat. Hart was over in the corner near the side of the stage talking with Amber. They were too far away and the place too dark for me to make out a lot of details. She was wearing boy shorts, a barely there bikini top, and the tallest heels I’d ever seen. She was in front of Hart, her chest practically shoved in his face. Images of the window display popped in my head.

I grabbed the shot glass, clamped my eyes shut, and downed the drink. The second the whiskey hit the back of my throat a fire erupted. Coughs flew out of me as I slammed the shot glass back down on the table.

Doug patted me on the back. “You okay, princess?”

The patting quickly morphed into slow deep circular rubs moving lower and lower. I backhanded Doug in the chest as the coughing fit died down.

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “How’d you know I liked it rough?”

Turning toward him, I let the final cough slap him in the face. He leaned back with a toothy grin, unfazed.

“The first shot’s a real ass kicker,” Ronnie said.

“How long has that been going on?” I tilted my head toward Hart and Amber.

Colin was the only one to answer. “Awhile.”

Another shot magically appeared.

Doug sat up taller with his glass held high. “A toast to the man of the hour! To Ronnie!”

All four of us raised our glasses and in unison yelled, “To Ronnie!”

One-by-one shot glasses hit the table.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack

Whack.

The boys and I were like a synchronized swim team.

My lips and tongue tingled from the spicy hot cinnamon flavor. Other than wine, I wasn’t a big fan of the harder stuff. But these shots reminded me of red hot candies and were delicious.

My gaze drifted over to where Hart and Amber were still talking. “Is it slerious?”

“Doubt it.” Doug waved his hand in the air. Seconds later another round and a pair of bare breasts popped into my sightline.

I tried not to look but the bedazzled nipple art was hard to ignore. I couldn’t get over how high this chick’s breasts were without the aid of a bra.

“Bottoms up!” Ronnie shouted.

Leaning in close, Doug brought his face within an inch of mine. “Bry . . . son. Brys . . . on. Did I ever tell you how much I like your name? Cause, I do like it. I like it a lot.”

It may have been the alcohol but I don’t remember Doug having a British accent.

“What exactly is your stitchuation?”

I blinked a few times trying to bring him into focus. “I’m in transizon . . . transition.”

He jerked back and gasped. “Holy shit! You’re a dude?!”

“No!” I leaned forward. “Do I look like a dude?”

Moving closer, he said, “You look like a hot piece of ass.”

The comment was rude and crude, but it made me smile inside.

“I’m in the prob . . . cess of ending a long-term relatiationship.”

“You’re getting a divorce?”

I nodded.

“Whew! Now where were we?” He was so close the tips of our noses were almost touching.

Suddenly, Doug was yanked back as if a giant vacuum were sucking him away. Then my body vibrated from what was quickly becoming my favorite sound.

“Doug, back the fuck off!” Hart growled.

My head whipped around, smashing into intense blue-gray eyes.

Tingles.

“Hart’s back!” I yelled.

“Bryson, are you drunk?” Hart’s lips were sexy forming the words.

“Nope.” I popped the p.

“God dammit, guys. I was gone for less than ten minutes. What the hell did y’all give her?

“Calm down! We just had a few shots of Fireball.” Ronnie sounded unaffected by the alcohol.

“She’s fine. Just having some fun,” said Colin. Sweet adorable Colin, the peacemaker.

My head began to swim as my body swayed from side-to-side and back and forth. Grabbing my shoulders, Hart steadied me before I fell out of my seat.

“Bryson, you’re not much of a drinker, are you?” Hart was so close if I stuck my tongue out I’d be able to lick his sexy lips.

“Nope.” Once again I popped the p and smiled.

Through gritted teeth, Hart scolded. “Nice going, guys. She’s plastered.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

I looked in the air searching for the source of the shower of apologies falling all around me.

“Bryson . . . Bryson . . .” My gaze swung to Hart. “I’m going to take you home, okay.”

I leaned toward him. “What about big tits?”

I was woozy and unfocused but a definitely laugh came out of that sexy man.