AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But—”
The protest dies on her lips when she takes in my not-fucking-around expression.
She turns, grabs her purse and another, larger tote bag, slings the straps over her shoulder, and faces me.
“Where are your shoes?” I ask.
“In here.” She pats her bag. “Rav said I couldn’t wear my dance sneakers on stage.”
Sneakers. For fuck’s sake. “Come on.”
Maybe later I’ll laugh about the ridiculousness of Emily’s plan but for now, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against the shelter of my body to walk her out of the dressing room without anyone bothering us.
As we reach the more crowded part of the dressing room, Emily tips her head back. “You know, in hindsight, this wasn’t my brightest idea. I don’t think I fit in here.”
I snort. Gee, ya think? “You belong with me.”
Girls whisper and comment as we pass. Emily burrows closer. The hallway between the dressing room and my office has cleared a bit. I’m almost at my door when a girl runs past us, barefoot and clutching a red dress to her chest.
“Nope, nope, nope, nope,” she mumbles. “Can’t do it.”
Stacia follows behind the girl, carrying a pair of red, glittery heels in one hand. She’s laughing and shaking her head.
“Stage fright?” I ask.
“Yup,” Stacia cackles.
I hurry Emily into my office, closing the door behind us. All the ways this could’ve gone badly for my girl fire off in my head one at a time.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I explode.
She glances away, shaking her head.
“You wanted my attention, now you’ve got it,” I snap even louder. “So, start talking.”
She backs away from me, her white socks slipping against the tile floor, until her butt bumps into the edge of my desk. “Oh.”
Deep breath. Stop fucking yelling at her.
“What’s this all about?” I ask in a calmer tone.
She glances over her shoulder and perches on the edge of my desk. “I’m sorry about this morning.”
“What about it?” I thought we had a pretty good morning. Well, until I got the information about her dad’s ex-partner. But she doesn’t even know about that. And I can’t think of a reason why—even if she did know—that information would make her think dancing naked in my club was suddenly a good idea.
Just like that, my anger returns to the red zone.
“When Libby asked about your job. I panicked.”
What’s she talking about? “I thought you were very smooth with the ‘entertainment venue’ answer.”
“Oh.” Her gaze flickers toward me, then away. “I thought you were mad. And that’s why you didn’t answer me all day.”
“No. been busy, that’s all. I didn’t realize my phone’s dead.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “We should’ve talked about what you wanted me to tell her.” I run my hands through my hair. “It was bound to come up eventually.”
“It’s just…” She waves her hand in the air, trying to come up with the right words.
I step closer and catch her hand midair. She lets out a surprised gasp and stares up at me.
“So you were worried I was mad at you for not telling your teenage sister I run a strip club?” I recap. “That still doesn’t explain how we got here.”
She shrugs.
I brush the pink hair out of her eyes, then walk my fingers over her hairline, searching for how she has the damn wig attached. Unfortunately, I’m well aware of a few different ways the girls use to secure these things. This one seems to be a few simple clips close to her scalp. I use both hands to flick the clips open and gently tug the mass of fake silky strands off her head.
“Ugh, don’t!” She grabs for the wig. “My hair’s probably all flat and gross now.”
I shake the pink mop at her. “This wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on stage.”
“I was pressed for time.” She lifts her chin and runs her hands through her messy hair, shaking it out.
Unfortunately, the movement jostles my flannel on her open, baring the small silver bra. It’s doing a shit job containing her breasts. A wave of savage possessiveness consumes me. I hook my finger under the tiny string holding the two cups together. “You drive here like this?”
“Well, no. I had a sweatshirt on.”
“Where is it?”
“In my car.”
“So you walked through the parking lot in these scraps?”
“I didn’t want to have to change in front of everyone in the dressing room.” Her eyebrows draw down as it seems to sink in how ridiculous that sounds.
I can’t help rubbing it in, though. “But you were going to take this off in front of an entire club full of strangers?”
“Yeah.” She drops her chin to her chest, complete misery written all over her. “Like I said, I didn’t think it through.”
“Obviously.” I twist my finger in the string until the cups of her bra slip loose and her breasts pop free.
