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“Hey, good-looking. You still working?” He pauses. “What’s that noise?”
I chew my bottom lip. “Uh, no. I’m, uh…I just got out and came to a little get-together with Ryann,” I lie through my teeth. Something I’m apparently getting good at. “Did you win?”
“You know, if you didn’t want to come to my game, you could have just said that,” he says coolly. “Fake relationship or not, we can at least tell each other the motherfucking truth.”
“No, I did. I wanted to come. I just—”
“I gotta go,” he snaps.
He ends the call abruptly, leaving me alone in the dressing room of the strip club, feeling like absolute shit.
Hunter
Even though it’s the last place I care to be, after my phone call with Sutton, I say fuck it and go out with the guys to Peaches. Contrary to what people might believe, all men don’t get horned up over strip clubs. I know I don’t. It’s awkward to me to sit around and watch girls fuck a pole, knowing half the dudes around me are likely pitching a tent in their pants. Gross.
We take our seats on the leather bench that wraps around, making a U-shape, and within minutes, a chick takes our drink order. She’s only in her bra and underwear, her asscheeks hanging out, and her face is covered with a mask.
I look around. All of them are wearing masks. Shit, these girls probably go to Brooks, and we’d never even know. It’s a smart idea on the owner’s side. Obviously, it protects the dancers, no one knowing who they actually are.
Once drinks are passed out, I sip on my beer. Taking out my phone, I pull Sutton’s profile up on Instagram to see if anyone has tagged her in any pictures tonight that might indicate where she is. But I find nothing, which leaves me even more pissed. For all I know, she could be around a bunch of creeps, and they could even be trying to take advantage of her.
Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I look around the entire club. It’s nothing like what I imagined it would look like in here. The guys have been trying to get me to come to Peaches for years, but I was never interested. And I know the only reason why my ass is sitting here, looking like a pervert right now, is because I’m mad that Sutton is out somewhere, probably finding her Romeo.
“Glad you came out, brother,” Cade says, throwing back another shot. “Scenery’s pretty good, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter.
“Don’t sound so impressed. If you’re more into meat, I’m sure one of us can take one for the team and go shake our asses for you,” Walker teases, waving around. “Seriously, man, how can you not be happy? Titties and ass.”
“Titties. And. Ass,” Cade mimics, grinning like a fool. “Also known as heaven.”
I shake my head at them, gazing around again until my eyes fixate on the girl dancing for the next booth over. She’s wearing a sheer black bra, exposing most of her breasts, except for her nipples. Her thong matches her bra, along with her thigh-highs. But on her feet are some hot-pink high heels. Total fuck-me heels. There’s something about her that draws me in.
Her chest glistens with some kind of shimmer she’s applied. And her long black hair falls in waves around her face and down her back. But there’s something familiar about her too. And when she lifts her arms up, gripping the pole…I see a familiar tattoo—5…6…7…8…
And when I watch her hold back a cough, clearly struggling to catch her breath…I see fucking red.
Within a second, I’m on my feet, heading to her. And I don’t even think about how it’s going to look or that there’s a bouncer when I make my next move. Frankly, I don’t care. But before I can reach her, she walks off the stage, around the bouncer, and through a door.
Going to the same door she went through, I point in her direction. “That’s my girlfriend, man. Help a guy out. She knew I was coming tonight to watch her.”
He eyes me suspiciously before signaling to another bouncer and taking my arm. Walking me out back, he knocks a few times, and Sutton appears in the doorway, holding her inhaler in her hand.
“Yeah?” she says blankly before her eyes find mine and widen. “Hunter? Wh-what are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, the bouncer grips my arm tighter.
“You told me she knew you were here. That’s strike one, puck boy.” When I give him a surprised look, he shrugs. “Yeah, I know who you are. I like college hockey. What can I say?”
I’m so fucking mad at the girl standing in front of us right now. And knowing this fucker is probably looking at her body makes me want to take the bat from the rage room last week and attack him.
Nodding at my arm, I attempt a smirk. “Go easy on my arm, big boy. Be awful hard to carry a stick around when it’s crushed.”
“I haven’t checked my phone,” Sutton blurts out. “He probably texted me that he was coming, but I haven’t seen the message yet.” She looks to me. “Right?”
“Right. Yes.” I nod but send her a glare because I’m fucking fuming right now, looking at her in this slutty outfit, letting every man in this motherfucker see her perfect body.
Eventually, he walks away. Leaving no one here besides me and Sutton. And when I back her up into the room, locking the door behind me, I press her against the wall with my body. It’s just her and me.
