Chapter 1
Roxy
Tonight I could be nobody. I had no worries waiting for me. I was just a woman looking to get her dance on. And I was damn happy about that.
The club music pumped all around me, taking over my mind, drowning out the responsibilities that waited for me back in Green Valley, Tennessee. Lights flashed in a pleasing and disorienting way. Bodies all around me moved to the heavy bass and electronic beats; some faced the stage, dancing solo, others paired up, groups of girls clumped together to form that invisible, creep-repellent forcefield any clubbing regular immediately recognizes.
Blissfully in my own world, my arms reached for the sky and I rocked my hips to a sexy blend of hip-hop and Latin that had me flexing newly learned dance moves. Despite how my sweaty face probably looked, I was happy. One dance club in a foreign city, and I could take a full breath for the first time in years. Six years ago, I was given a second chance to change my life. I vowed I would never let down those who saved me.
But maybe just one night off to dance was okay too.
I danced until I forgot about what waited for me back home. The chaos that Diane Donner’s sudden disappearance left, the worry about the promotion I was desperate to earn, or the new manager that was in charge of that decision. I hopped up and down to the music, shaking off the thoughts that threatened to ground me.
An awareness of being watched had me twirl to scan the crowd. Something across the room snagged my attention. Rather, someone. A man stood at the bar, leaning casually despite intense eye contact that zipped through me. Or at least I thought he was looking at me. It was hard to tell among the flashing lights and jumping bodies. A group of girls jostled me and I lost sight of him. I turned in time to the music, trying to spot him again, wondering if I imagined that initial jolt of energy.
There had been something about his look. It wasn’t that scary, stomach-hurting focus that some men triggered. Instead, there was an intense interest to it that felt like more than just a passing glance. It was rare for me to make eye contact with someone and react so physically. His gaze had been piercing but his light coloring surprised me the most. Light hair, light eyes, even across the dark bar I could tell that much. He required more time to study. For science.
Sadly, I would never know because he had disappeared.
It wasn’t long before a deeply satisfying sweat broke out on my brow. I was getting overheated in my favorite leather jacket over a loose tank top and tight jean skirt. When the band took a break, I pushed through the crowd of people toward the bathroom. I missed this in some ways, the electricity of bodies and music and being free. I didn’t really let myself go in Green Valley unless it was from within the safety net of the Scorned Women’s Society, SWS for short. They were my gravity when the world spun out around me.
I didn’t have the same startling beauty that Suzie Samuels had. I didn’t charm easy like Kim Dae. I couldn’t say whatever came to mind like Gretchen LaRoe. I only had the protection of looking completely unapproachable.
I patted my face with a damp paper towel to cool off, careful to not blur my eyeliner. My fingertips shook my bangs back in place. I tilted my head and squinted at my reflection. Gretchen once said she envied my resting bitch face, RBF for short. (A term I resented but, unfortunately, universally acknowledged.) She told me it was my superpower. She was right. I did not exist to make sure people felt comfortable when they looked at me.
My full lips and freakishly long lashes gave me a perpetually pouty face. People always asked me if I was cosmetically altered. It didn’t help that I was naturally thin and covered in tattoos. I always drew looks. Typically, I just gave them one of my winning glares and they scurried away. Smiles came as easy for me as catching a greased-up pig and stayed half as long. My blunt-cut bangs and thick eyeliner completed my badass look.
As I washed my hands, a younger girl—or maybe I was getting ancient at twenty-eight but she looked like a baby—stepped up next to me to wash her own. I felt more than saw her look me up and down. I kept my focus on my reflection.
She was just about to leave the bathroom, when I said, “Hey, you. Stop.”
She froze and turned around. She looked around and back to me, before gripping her clutch tighter. “Uh, yeah?”
I rolled my eyes. Even when happy, apparently I looked meaner than a wet panther. I needed a T-shirt that said “nicer than my face looks.” My RBF was a good thing when I still rode with a scary motorcycle club called the Iron Wraiths, but since leaving, I overanalyzed every interaction I had with “normals.” It helped to think,What would the SWS do?Kim would become her best friend. Suzie would give her makeup tips. Gretchen would probably find out what she needed in five minutes and figure out how to get it for her in another five. Me? I didn’t bring anything to the table, but I could get better.
I pointed to the toilet paper stuck to her shoe. “You’ve got a clinger,” I said dryly.
She followed my gaze and let out a nervous giggle. “Oh. Thanks,” she said and scraped it off.
I turned back to dry my hands as she left, making sure to take my time so I wouldn’t have to make small talk with her. I was making changes but it wasn’t time to start expecting miracles. After I double-checked my eyeliner was in place, I made my way down to the dance floor.
Carillo’s was a hipster gastropub turned nightclub in downtown Denver. It was recommended to me by one of the vendors I had hit it off with earlier at the hospitality convention. I’d spent the last two days representing Donner Lodge, trying to gain new business and potential vendors: corporate suits, fake smiles, small talk, blah. I was beyond exhausted but certainly earned a promotion when I got back. The vendor with the most potential was a corporate adventure company called Outside the Box. Before today I’d never even heard of outdoors activities used to bond coworkers, but after a long conversation with the co-owner, William, not only did I understand the popularity but could easily see how they’d fit in at the Lodge. It was actually William who told me to use his name to bypass the line to get into the club tonight.
Now I could let the weight of responsibility melt off me like humidity on a glass of sweet tea. I was going to dance until my thighs shook or my feet gave up.
The walls of Carillo’s were draped with gold pressed-velvet curtains interspersed with a wide range of mixed media art—or random junk from garage sales—it was hard to tell in the dim lighting. Crystal-beaded chandeliers dropped from the ceiling. Couches made of jewel-toned velvet were tucked away in deep alcoves that lined the dance floor and the upper level. Burly bearded bartenders scrambled to keep up with shouted orders.
I went to the bar and chugged a water. I definitely didn’t scan the room for that man that watched me earlier. What I felt was a one-off. I didn’t care about men in bars anymore. Especially not tonight.
Though I had just told myself how content I was to dance alone, I couldn’t help a hint of disappointment. I had cooled off considerably but wasn’t done dancing yet. The band was getting ready to go back onstage for their next set. I took off my jacket and folded it gently and placed it on a barstool. It felt like taking off a protective shield.
I backed up, ready to get back to the dance floor when I smacked into a solid body.
“Watch it,” I mumbled as I was steadied by strong hands on my shoulders. Then I remembered to be nice and tried to scoot to the side.
The arms held me gently in place. When I looked up, glaring pointedly, he dropped them. It was Mr. Eye Contact from across the room. A little thrill tickled the back of my knees. He was damn fine this close up. Not my taste, but definitely a certain appeal. Like, if I wanted to know someone with a yacht to “summer on,” he’d be my type.
His eyes were startlingly blue. His hair was this dark shade of blond, thick waves swept back with lighter tips that looked as though it had been bleached naturally by the sun. A smile quirked his mouth and my focus moved there. He had soft crinkles around the corners of his eyes and a natural tan that spoke of time outside.
