Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I considered taking the night off, but when Amy was readily available, I thought, why not? Apart from work, I don’t really do anything without my son, and that’s not exactly social. I just hope it’s worth it, so I don’t consider paying the babysitter tonight a waste of money.
So here I am, walking into the club—without lingerie on for a change—and finding mostly everyone already here. I know I’m late, and it’s not that I intentionally do it to piss people off, but I prefer to have dinner with my son before I leave.
I place my bag on the table in the back, then reapply my lip balm—the cold has been wreaking havoc on my lips—and I ease into the sound of everyone enjoying themselves out on the main floor.
“Late as usual,” someone says from behind me, and Dutton walks in.
My breath hitches because I forgot how intense his ocean-blue gaze and dangerous aura are. Two weeks without this man is not long enough to wipe away the fact that despite being beautiful, he’s an asshole.
I focus back on the mirror and pucker my lips. “Seems I’m right on time if the boss is only arriving now.” He briefly looks me up and down before coming to a stop behind me with his hands in his pants pockets. I’m sure it must be different for him to actually see me in clothes for once, and yet, somehow, I feel even more judged than when I have my body on display.
I’m dressed in jeans tight around my waist and ass, which flare at my ankles, a shirt that says something about riding a cowboy, and my hair is up in a bun.
Samantha bursts through the door, wearing a short pink dress. “Yay, you’re here!” She runs up to me and almost tackles me in a hug.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask her. It’s only then that she realizes Dutton is in the room, and her demeanor changes, if only slightly, because the alcohol won’t let her act any other way. He’s taken two considerable steps back, however.
She wisely chooses to ignore him and place her full drink into my hand. “You have to catch up, come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the main floor.
I sniff the drink and am blinded by the toxicity of the vodka. “Jesus, Samantha, did you put a dash of orange juice in this just for kicks?”
“That’s what happens when the brats get into the liquor cabinet like dirty little raccoons,” Mike says as I’m dragged past him. “Want me to get you something drinkable?” he quietly whispers to me, and I nod silently.
A few of the other girls with whom I don’t work many shifts are dressed more presentably than we usually do. I’m sure this is a warm-up for a wild night out.
Paula steps in front of Samantha, cutting her off, and I’m so fucking grateful I could kiss her. “Help me,” I mouth.
Paula keeps her expression composed as she asks Samantha to give us a moment.
“Okay, but you better have finished that drink by the time I return! I’ll pour us another one!” Samantha says giddily. I don’t even know if she’ll make it out tonight.
She skips to the bar despite premade drinks being readily available by a hired bartender.
Mike walks over to Paula and me, and she says, “I didn’t think you would come.”
“Free food? How can I pass that up?” I say with a smile as I place the toxic concoction of Samantha’s drink on the high-top table beside me.
“Well, I was shocked you left your house,” Mike says, pulling me in for a side hug and placing a flute of bubbly liquid into my hand. “Here, have this, these taste great.”
“Thank you. I didn’t think I’d come, but here I am,” I say triumphantly as I notice Dutton speaking with one of the security guards; however, he’s staring at me. I take a sip of the drink and focus back on Mike as he complains.
“You never come out when I ask; it hurts my feelings,” he says, brushing my shoulder with his playfully.
I laugh. “You know I don’t go out. Ever. It’s too expensive, and I’d rather be in my PJs at home.”
He rolls his eyes. “You sound like a woman in her fifties, not a twenty-four-year-old.”
“Hey!” Paula interjects. “There’s nothing wrong with being in your fifties.”
Mike lays his hands over his heart dramatically. “But, madam, you don’t look a day over thirty. I never knew.”
“Smartass.” She smirks, and takes a mouthful of her drink. I follow her lead and sip from my own. It tastes festive and decadent but too sweet for my liking. However, the buzz it offers me isn’t all that bad.
Paula excuses herself from our conversation to start the games.