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“I’m thirty-six,” I say with a fair amount of shock in my voice. How can he even ask that? “I have no business popping anyone’s cherry at my age.”
Hunter joins in the conversation, sitting across from me at the table with Emerson at the head. “I’m confused. Is something going on between you and Mia? When did this happen?”
Inwardly, I groan. I really don’t need the whole company getting involved. I left the lake yesterday, and Mia and I had fun, but we’re done. We spent the week doing exactly what I said we would—playing. No sex. A little fun. And no regrets. It was the first time my dick was touched by a woman in way too goddamn long. No strings, no complaints. And now, we can both return to our lives like nothing happened.
Except that we still talk almost hourly as Drake and Mia—instead of Garrett and Mia—and she keeps hinting at us meeting in person. That’s a hole I’ve dug for myself that I don’t want to face right now. Because I still can’t quite get the taste of her lips out of my mouth, and when she finds out I’m Drake, and that I’ve been lying to her this whole time, I’m going to lose her twice.
“It’s complicated,” I grumble, rubbing my forehead between my fingers. “She’s a camgirl and I happened to see her online and might have joined under a fake name and watched her a couple times. Next thing I know, we’re doing everything but fucking.”
“And you came clean about the fake profile?” Emerson asks with a hopeful expression on his face.
I give him a one-word response. “Ha.”
He lets out a disappointed sigh, and it kills me. Emerson Grant is the last person you want to disappoint. “Garrett,” he replies, my name sounding like a punishment.
“This is why we didn’t have sex. I don’t need to feel any more like a piece of shit for what I’ve done already. Taking her virginity would be the icing on the cake.”
Emerson is sending me a stern look. “I don’t like when you do that,” he mutters.
“Do what?”
“Call yourself a piece of shit when you’re clearly not.”
Well, that was…unexpected. Am I supposed to apologize for that? Like Emerson Grant has ever known what it was like to feel like a piece of shit. Even when he was banging his son’s ex, he probably didn’t beat himself up, feeling like the world’s worst dad.
Okay, he kind of did, but that was a single incident. I highly doubt my perfect best friend knows what low self-esteem even feels like.
We need a change in subject. “How’s the club?” I ask.
The way his face screws up into a pained expression has my heart dropping. “Well, numbers are steady. But the hall has been a little lackluster lately.”
Fuck. “What? Why?”
“Last week, we had three rooms filled at once and only four spectators in the hall.”
Fuck, fuck. Groaning again, I slide my face into my hands. I should have known I’d come back to a mountain of work. I never should have left.
“I think we need to start vetting who we let take the rooms,” Emerson adds.
Immediately, my brain shifts into idea mode. We can fix this. It’s not a lost cause. “I’ll get back some of my regulars. We can get a group in there. They love that.” My gaze slides over to Hunter, who looks personally affronted as if I’m specifically asking him to partake in a gang bang.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Talk to Drake,” I say. “He’ll do it. Room fee waived, of course.”
Speak of the fucking devil himself, Drake walks into the room.
“Talk to Drake about what?” he asks with a sly smile on his handsome face.
“Jesus,” Emerson groans. Drake isn’t an owner of the club, but he is head of the construction crew responsible for building it, which means he has a free lifetime membership, which he uses to its full potential. And he tends to find himself at our meetings, more often than not, which is not something Emerson particularly likes. He doesn’tdislikeDrake exactly, but it’s clear Drake’s flippancy and nonchalance when it comes to the club and life in general has always irked Emerson. Not to mention, Drake doesn’t hold back with his flirting, and if Emerson so much as catches him glancing in Charlotte’s direction, he turns murderous.
And speak of the devil again, Emerson’s girlfriend-slash-secretary, Charlotte, walks in with Maggie. They take the last two seats around the table while Drake stares at me, waiting to hear what I brought up his name for.
“Drake, if we could get you a room in V-hall, do you think you could gather up a little group to put on a show?”
Now that gets everyone’s attention. Chitchat suddenly comes to an end as everyone watches him for his response. His eyes light up with excitement.
“Just girls or guys too?”
