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Both looked at him with brows raised and said at the same time, “You’re joking right?”
“Yes! Lane?” Luke busted a gut laughing. “Are you kidding me, strip in front of women? No. He’s self-taught. Now me on the other hand wouldn’t have a problem doing that.”
“Have you?” Brit asked.
“Hell no,” he laughed. “I can’t dance.”
“You goof,” Brit smacked him across the chest with the back of her hand.
The catcalls and whistling started up again drawing Desi’s attention back to the dance floor. The song hadn’t even ended, and the women were already chanting for more. Some even tossed five-dollar bills onto the floor at his feet.
Desi crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “Did someone hand that money out as a gag they are throwing at him?”
Luke shook his head, “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Hmm.” Was all Desi said, as she saw Lane stoop over to pick up his shirt. He started putting it back on when the cougar from 2’oclock started to stalk her prey.
Lane was tired. It had been a while since he’d danced like that, and he was worn out. Ignoring the whistles and money, Lane shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. He was heading back to Desi and was looking down, concentrating on buttoning it up when he was stopped by a woman in his path.
“You’re quite the dancer,” she said, holding her hand out. “I’m Justine Taylor.”
Noting her British accent, Lane nodded but didn’t touch her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, sidestepping around her.
She hurriedly spun around, stepping in his way. “I’m staying at Ben and Abbi’s and was wondering if you would like to come over for a... night cap.”
Ah, she was one of the uninvited. He almost laughed in her face the way she said Ben and Abbi’s. Clearly the woman didn’t have a clue who he was.
“No, I’m good.”
She ran her hand down his chest, her nails grazing over his skin as she did. “You’re very handsome, are you sure?”
“Yes, he’s sure.” Desi reached around the bimbo and grabbed Lane by the hand, “Come on darlin’ you promised me a ride,” she tossed over her shoulder as they walked away.
“Thanks for that,” Lane said, as they stepped onto the patio.
“Anytime. Can we please leave now? Or I can walk, I don’t care, I just need to get some sleep.”
“Ah, yeah,” he said, feeling his pockets. “I just gotta grab my jacket. I hope my keys are in it.”
“Where is it?”
“Inside, follow me.”
Together they walked into the kitchen and Lane said, “I threw it on Kim and Dean’s bed with my helmet, I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” Desi murmured as she looked at the dirty dishes that were piled high.
Taking off her sweater, she tossed it onto the back of a chair and rolled up her sleeves as she walked over to the sink. Squirting some dish soap into it, she started to fill it with warm water.
He came back into the room and asked, “What are you doing? I thought you were tired?”
Carefully she placed the teacups and glasses into the water then turned and looked over her shoulder. “I am, but I can’t leave this mess.”
Without a word, Lane sat his helmet on the chair and hung his jacket over her sweater. Rolling up his sleeves, he took the garbage pail, and started scraping the scraps off the plates into it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, making short work of washing the glasses.
“What does it look like? I’m helping you.”
