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The tall, curvy blonde behind the hostess stand smiles as we approach. “Hey there, gentlemen. Do y’all have reservations this evening?”
“We do. It should be under Hellerman.”
Blondie’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, lucky you. You’re in Red’s section.”
Colton laughs dryly. “Lucky us.”
“Just you wait,” she says, winking as she steps out from behind her stand. “Now, if y’all will follow me, I’ll take you on back to your table.”
The din of noise surges even louder as we step around the partition and into the actual restaurant. The sound of scraping knives and clinking glasses ring through the room.
We weave a path through the room until we’re dead center. “Gentlemen!” Dirk stands, greeting us. Whereas Colton and I are both dressed in sharp suits, Dirk looks like he’s headed to a luau, wearing khaki, beach-looking pants with a matching partially unbuttoned shirt. “So glad you could make it.”
Several members of his team are also seated at the table. Dirk makes quick introductions but a flash of familiar red hair distracts me and I miss most—okay, all—of their names.
It’s not until Colton elbows me that I realize both he and Dirk are sitting. Quickly, I claim my chair, trying to shake off the weird feeling making waves in my gut. “What is your deal?” Colton hisses in my ear, pretending to peruse the menu.
“I…I thought I saw—” I shake my head, dislodging my crazy thoughts. “It doesn’t matter.”
Colton glares. “You forced me here, be present.”
A server decked out in five-inch heels and a barely-there black fishnet mini dress—literally, it only covers her vag and nipples—swings by our table. “Gentlemen,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry. “I’m Max, and I’ll be grabbing your drink orders real quick while Red finishes up with another party.”
She leans forward, placing her ample, shimmering cleavage directly into my line of sight, and while in the past I’d have been all over a fine specimen like her, here and now, she does nothing for me. Nope, these days, it seems the only woman that gets my engine revving is a certain tatted-up redhead with killer curves and a smart mouth I’d love nothing more than to kiss any time I damn well pleased.
“What’ll you have, handsome?” she asks me, clicking her pen before deliberately nibbling on the end of it in a way I’m sure most men would find seductive.
As politely and disinterestedly as possible, I order a gin and tonic, my eyes never once straying to check out all of the skin she has on display.
Unruffled, Max moves onto Colton; he, too, orders impassively. I’ll give her credit though; she simply smiles and trots off to the bar to place our order. Then again, a girl like her probably isn’t ever lonely for long.
Dirk doesn’t waste any time launching into why he thinks I should partner with his company. “West, your proposed product line virtually sells itself.”
“Then why do I need you?” I ask pointedly.
The man grins. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
Colton and I glance at one another from our peripheries, likely thinking the same thing—that Dirk Hellerman is full of shit.
“You see, while your product, listed on your site, sells with minimal effort, I want to expand your horizon—and profit margin. In working with me, I can do two major things for you. I can up your production and get your line in front of new consumers.”
I signal for Colton to take notes while Dirk and I go back and forth.
“Tell me this, Dirk, is your company LGBTQ friendly?”
The men seated with us exchange looks. “We aren’t currently plugged into that market,” he says smoothly. But I know what he really means.
“That’s a shame, because it’s an avenue Virtual Kitty is heavily pursuing.”
Dirk starts to speak but a smoky, sultry, and very fucking familiar voice interrupts. “Sorry about that wait, gentlemen.” I tilt my head back to look at the woman who sounds so much like my roommate. “The bar is—West!”
A deep growl works its way up my throat as I shove back from the table to stand. My chair screeches across the floor, silencing damn near the entire dining room. “This?” I hiss the word. “This is where you work?”
Colton mutters under his breath at my side, but I pay him no mind. No, my eyes are locked onto Stacia, standing before me in nothing but a pair of skimpy-ass black leather boy-shorts with red glittery hearts covering her nipples.
“Um, yeah,” she says softly, her eyes looking anywhere but my face.
I step closer to her, and even in her four-inch heels, I’m still a head taller than her. “This has to be a joke. Tell me you’re fucking joking.”
Stacia straightens her spine and snaps her gaze to mine. “You are not about to judge me for—”
“For what?” I sneer. “Serving overcooked steaks with a side of tits and ass?”
