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“All right, boss.” She sashays past him, playfully swatting at his ass, and he mashes his lips together, unimpressed.
The door swings closed, and he stands there, all six foot two of him. He’s in good shape for his age, broad and muscled, and back in the day he was a looker, not that he isn’t now.
Oz is in his early sixties with a full head of hair, white as snow but so thick you want to run your hands through it, and his square jaw, strong nose, and deep-set brown eyes round out his handsome, rugged features.
“You got something to tell me?” He stares intently at me.
My mouth gapes and I want to demand answers. Who told him? But I know better.
I may not be showing—thank goodness, not yet—but there’s no way he’d be as successful as he is, owning the only joint of this kind in the county, without being sharp as a whip and super perceptive. He has to be to hold his own with the wealthy, uppity bunch. He’s figured out my current state all on his own.
“Um, yeah.” I glance down at my fingers, stomach still unsettled, and I’m unsure how to fess up to something he’s heard a million times before. Although I’m willing to bet he never imagined hearing it from me. “I’m pregnant.”
His chin dips and he rests a hand on my shoulder. “How far along?”
“I’m almost at the end of the first trimester.”
He nods. “You feeling okay?”
I nod, unable to find my tongue. Shame never gets easier and he isn’t even casting judgement. He isn’t that kind of man.
“Good. What do you need?”
“Um, nothing for now. I’ll work for as long as you’ll have me.”
A tender grin ghosts his lips. “Well, I can’t have a pregnant woman behind the bar, although half these boys come in here for you.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, tired of the same song and dance. Years ago, with my tail between my legs and behind Travis’s back, I slunk in here, starving and broke, looking for a job. No matter how things look from the outside, this club is a haven for many women who are out of options or have no place to go.
One look and Oz asked if I’d strip. I said yes, but he could see it wasn’t my thing. Without any discussion or fuss, he taught me to tend bar and claims that ever since, business has doubled whenever I’m slinging the drinks.
It’s flattering even if there’s isn’t a lick of truth to it.
Fact is, Oz is the closest thing to a father I’ll ever have. I’d trade my real one for him any day and that’s why this is so hard. I don’t want to disappoint him.
I was saving for a one-way ticket out of here, and he fully supported my goal. Even stepped in when Travis got mouthy, trying to dissuade me from leaving.
The baby changes everything.
I’m no longer going anywhere.
Like so many before me, my chances of something different—better than I have now—just got harder or maybe near impossible.
“I’ll stay until I start showing. Maybe four, five months. Six if I’m lucky.”
“That’s unless you’re willing to show off the belly. Bet I could bring in a crowd for that.” He winks at his tasteless joke.
“Not a chance, perv.” I hit his chest and he chuckles.
“No way I’d put you in that position. But I’ll find you something to do that keeps you off your feet.”
A warmth blooms in my chest at his generosity. “Okay. Sounds good. I can do that. Thank you.”
“You can stay at the apartment for half the rent. It’s the best I can do, kid.” He also owns the building where I live and has helped me in more ways than I can count.
“Thanks, but I’ll have to eventually leave. I need every penny I can save.”
“Aww, shit, Lacy.” A wrinkled hand threads his hair. “I wish I could help you out and waive the rent. The best I could swing is one month rent free, maybe two. Tops.”
