“Thanks.”
“Zane,” she said. “I've got eggs and sausages and hash browns if you want some.”
He looked up at her, surprise lighting his eyes. “That sounds amazing. Thank you.”
She smiled and returned a moment later with a plate for herself and for Zane. “So,” she said as she sat and slid Zane's plate over to him. “How did you and Abby meet?”
Zane cleared his throat and looked at me, eyes wide. I smiled and took a bite of grits. I immediately spit it back out and gulped my OJ to cool my mouth. Darn that was hot.
Carly hadn't taken her eyes off Zane. She ignored my burned mouth and Zane's silent plea for help. “It's a simple question,” she said, calm but insistent. I'd never seen Carly so aggressive and sure. It was kind of hot.
“The truth is,” Zane said. “Abigail just drew me in as soon as I saw her at the… Coffee shop. I couldn't take my eyes off her and her smile… I'm sure she's got a line of guys after her.”
Carly grinned and then laughed. “Oh, wow, you're really bad at this, and you clearly don't know Abby at all. I've known her for five years and seen her date two guys that whole time. I—”
“Carly,” I said. “You make me sound like I can't attract anyone.”
Carly gave me a disapproving look. “And you don't ever buy coffee. You always say it's a waste of good money when you've got instant coffee and a machine at home.”
“I was there for a muffin,” I said. “They have good muffins.”
She glared at me. “What's really going on, Abby? And no more lies or I'm going to… Well, it will be something bad and you won't like it.”
I glanced at Zane, who nodded slightly, his bacon, eggs, and hash browns cooling as he ignored them to focus on our conversation. “You can't tell anyone, but Axel asked Zane to stay with me to protect me from Leopold. Apparently, I pissed him off when I refused to be his blood groupie.”
Carly's eyes widened and her entire demeanor changed. “Really? That is so sweet.” She patted Zane's hand as he finally dug into the food. “My boyfriend is a —” She glanced at me, worrying her bottom lip.
I rolled my eyes. “Sweetie, everyone knows about you and Zed.”
Somehow, her cheeks pinked and she paled at the same time. “Are we going to be in trouble?”
“No. Zed's a good guy. Just no more sex at work.”
She smiled. “That is actually a huge relief. I've hated keeping this secret.” She turned back to Zane. “Anyway, my boyfriend is a bouncer and he's like super protective of me and it's just so sexy.”
Zane glanced up and gave a slight nod, before he returned to his food, looking supremely uncomfortable.
Carly chewed in silence for several moments while I finally dug into my, now cool, grits. “You know,” Carly said. “Abby's got like zero game, but she'd make someone a great girlfriend. She's like seriously the nicest person I know.”
Zane straightened, looking interested. “Really? Zero game?”
Of course, that's what he would latch onto.
She nodded, eyes wide. “She's so pretty and smart and sweet, you'd think she could get any guy she wants, but she is totally the worst—”
“I'm not looking for a relationship,” I said.
Carly leaned over the table toward Zane. “She wants to move to Denver, get some big-time, high-paying job so she can afford to travel and see the world. She thinks a boyfriend would hold her back, but I say the right guy could go with her, right? I mean who wants to go to Paris alone?”
“I do,” I said. “I—”
Carly shook her head. “You know, this really hot guy was totally into Abby this summer. He was a tourist here from Denver, so he would have been totally perfect for her. He tried to flirt with her, being super cute and she totally didn't pick up on it, told him she—”
“He was not flirting with me,” I said. “He was just complimenting the mask you'd painted on my face.”
Carly rolled her eyes. “See what I mean? Zero. Game.”
“Did you know her in high school?” Zane asked. “She must have had game then. I bet she was a cheerleader or the prom queen or something.”
If only he knew.
Carly scrunched up her nose. “She totally went to the same high school, she would have been a couple years ahead of me, but I don't remember her being on the cheerleading team. Were you, Abby?”
“Nope.” I didn't have time for extra-curricular activities. I was working at the local flower shop to help my parents pay the bills.
“Did you have any game back then?” Zane asked, amusement dominating his expression along with something else I couldn't identify.
“I didn't have time for game,” I said. “And I sure as hell didn't want to date any of the losers I went to school with and get stuck in this town.”
Carly didn't even flinch, though she had no intention of leaving Aspens Whiten. She knew how I felt about the place, but she genuinely loved it. “That's what she says, but she's got nothing holding her here and she hasn't left yet.”
“No boyfriends at all in high school?” Zane asked.
“None.” Why the hell was he fixating on this?
“Right,” Carly said. “So, don't be put off if you flirt with her and she totally misses it. Don't give up on her, she's good people and I can totally see that you two would be perfect together.”
“Carly,” I said. “Zane is not—”
Thank goodness for a knock at the door. I leapt up and hurried to open it. A woman, short and lithe with thick, chestnut brown hair that fell to her waist in shiny waves, stood outside. She had big, brown eyes like a Disney princess and a smile that glowed. “Hiya,” she said. “I've got clothes for Zane.” She hefted a duffel bag that was bigger than her in one hand.
“Come on in,” I said. “He's just eating breakfast.”
“No thanks. I've got a gazillion errands to run in town.” She stopped just inside the doorway and dropped the duffel on the floor. “See ya, Zane,” she said once she was inside and could see Zane at the table.
“Thanks, Rowan,” he said with a wave in her direction.
Rowan's grin widened and she threw her arms around me in a spontaneous hug. “I hope it works out between you two,” she said in a low voice. “He needs a happy ever after.”
What was wrong with everyone? “We're not really—”
She pulled away. “I know, but maybe you should be.”
With those words, she waved and left. I shook my head and shut the door behind her. Werewolves were strange.
Zane appeared beside me. He stopped, his eyes meeting mine. “You look like hell,” he said. “You should finish eating and go back to bed.”
I put my hands on my hips, mostly so he couldn't see them shaking. “I get that you're here to protect me and I appreciate that, but I won't be told what to do. I've lived on my own a long time, and I know how to handle myself.”
His expression hardened. “You ever had a concussion before?”
“My medical history is none of your concern. I'm going to finish breakfast, and then I'm going to work. You can go with me or you can leave.”
He studied me for a long moment, considering his options, I assumed. “I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here, but Axel is my alpha and my friend. It's important to him that you're kept safe, so it's important to me. I'll try to respect your right to live your life the way you want, but if you're at risk, I'm going to overrule you.” He stepped in closer, his body radiating tension and… Annoyance? “I'll keep you safe, even if I have to tie you to the bed to do it.”
He spoke the last in a low, rumbly voice that vibrated through me. If our situation was one degree different, I'd think he was flirting with me. Was Carly right about me never noticing when a guy was flirting? It didn't matter, because I wasn't interested in Zane. “I'm not an idiot or unreasonable,” I said. “If I'm in danger, I'll do whatever you ask, but I'm not going to quit working or hide in my bedroom just because I'm a little dizzy.”
He
nodded and took a step back. “Good. In my opinion you should rest, but Axel didn't say anything about preserving your brain health, so I'll let it go.”
I felt like sticking my tongue out at him or kicking him in the shin, but the shakiness in my hands had spread to my legs and I really needed to sit down. I made my way to the table without pitching onto my face.
Carly smiled and winked at me. I wanted to ask her what she was trying to communicate, but Zane walked in. “Now that I've got clothes, I'm going to shower. We can leave when I'm done.”
He headed to the back of my place and I tried to ignore Carly's eyes on me, but I knew she wouldn't let it go until I'd looked at her. “What?”
She grinned. “He is volcanic hot and totally into you.”
“He is not even a little bit into me, he—”
“Can't take his eyes off you whenever you aren't looking, and he was the one who insisted on watching you while I made breakfast. Isn't that so sweet?”
“If you think stalkers are sweet. Sure.”
She was in no mood to be deterred. “Don't mess this up like you usually do, Abs. I'm telling you, he's into you and he's a good guy, nice, even if he doesn't have much of a sense of humor. Just flirt back, quit being so mean to him.”
I almost choked on my grits. “I'm not being mean to him. He's the one who barged into my life and started bossing me around.”
“He's here to look out for you, and I think it's sweet that he wants to take care of you, that he's worried about your brain health.” She sighed. “I just want you to be happy, Abby.”
“I am happy.” So what if I was no closer to my goal of moving to Denver and seeing the world? So what if I couldn't sleep sometimes because I missed my parents so much? That was just life.
Carly frowned. “No. You're not. The girls and I think you're lonely, Abby. You should be living your life, chasing your dreams, making love to hot guys, not taking care of a club that's falling apart and worrying about us. We can take care of ourselves, you know.”
“Of course, you can,” I said, even though I didn't actually believe it. “But I can't go to Denver with nothing. I just need more time, to save up some more money, and I'll go. I promise.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I know you're my boss and I'm supposed to be respectful, but that's a steaming load of bullshit.”
“Ready to go?” Zane asked, stepping into the living room, which was about two feet from the table where we were sitting.
I hopped to my feet, the room going blurry. I swiped at my eyes surprised to find wetness there. This concussion was making me crazy.
“I'm ready,” I said.
“Me, too,” Carly said. “I'm ready to clean the hell out of The Booty Carousel.”
Zane gestured her toward the front door and wrapped an arm around my waist. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don't fall over and hurt yourself.”
“I'm perfectly capable of walking myself to the door.”
“Then maybe I just want an excuse to put my arm around you.”
I snorted, because that was definitely not flirting. He was just trying to sweet talk me into letting him help me. Even so, I let him walk me to the door and out to my car.
***
The club was quiet and empty. Sinking into the seat behind my desk, I turned on the computer and navigated to my email.
I was stalling, because walking from the car to my office had exhausted me and I needed a little rest. I also might have been a wee bit frightened of seeing the disaster inside. The damage was likely to set the club back for months financially. I'd be eating noodles and bologna until I got us back into the black, because firing anyone or cutting pay wasn't an option.
Carly had stopped in the locker room to make a quick call to Zed. Zane sat in the chair on the other side of my desk, a chair usually occupied by the women who worked for me. Zane filled and overflowed the chair in a way none of the dancers did. He was a big guy, but his presence felt larger, like he filled the whole room and all my senses.
“Are you just going to sit there and watch me work?”
“Best way to keep you safe.”
I sighed. “I'm more worried about my club than me at the moment. Would you mind going out there and watching for Leopold or any of his people who might be looking to start trouble?”
“Only if you go with me. I don't give a damn about your club, I'm here to watch out for you.”
“Fine. In five minutes, I'm going to get off my ass and start cleaning. You can watch me do that.”
“You aren't up for cleaning.”
I glared at him, annoyed because he was right. “I'm the only one who can get this club back together, so how I feel doesn't matter. If we're going to open tomorrow and pass our inspection I have to get off my ass and get to work.”
“So your club will be closed a few days,” he said, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted. “I doubt the world will cry for the loss.”
“You got a problem with my club? With strippers in general? Or just with me?”
He dropped his gaze to his feet. “The women who work here are doing what they have to do to earn a living. Can imagine there'd be better ways to do it, but I don't blame them for choosing this. Not a lot of options in this town.”
“So, your problem is with me? My club?”
He met my gaze. “You sell their sex for a profit. You aren't much better than a pimp.”
I didn't flinch or grimace, even though his words hurt. It wasn't the first time I'd been accused of exploiting the women who worked for me, but I guess I'd expected something different from him. “No woman who works in this club sells literal sexual acts and continues to work here,” I said. “But I have a feeling that's not what you meant. You think because I profit from them taking their clothes off and dancing for an audience I'm exploiting them.” I shook my head. “I could tell you they choose to be here, I could tell you they make a good bit of money themselves…” He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “They don't make as much as they'd make in one of the big cities, but they make more than they'd make behind the counter in a retail store or delivering pizzas. I could tell you I try to help them, that I advise them to have an exit plan, to save their money, to never take to heart what anyone says or thinks of them, but I doubt it would change your mind.” I don't know why I cared what he thought of me, but we were going to be stuck together for a while, and I'd never seen the point in pretending to be someone I wasn't. “The truth is, I ask myself what the hell I'm doing all the time. When a woman walks in this office crying because some douche bag said her ass was too big or her tits were too small, I hate that I put women in that position. When I watch a woman come in here every day caring more and more about how she looks, putting more and more stock into whether some asshole wants a lap dance, I tell myself I should quit the business and finally get the hell out of this town.”
“Why don't you?” Zane asked, his jaw loose now, his hands no longer in fists.
“Because Zara was turned down for a promotion last month. It was given to a man who had half her experience and didn't work anywhere near as hard. She has a daughter and a disabled mother who depend on the money she makes here. Because Alice gets paid half of what the man who does the same job next to her gets paid and she wants to save up and start her own business. Because Roxy was told she didn't have the right look to be a bank teller and she wants to save money to move to a city where she's not discriminated against because she has D-cups and pouty lips and platinum blond hair. Every woman I employ has a story, a reason she needs the money she makes here. I figure taking it from men who are easily fleeced by a pretty face and a fake laugh is fair play.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Before you say that my club and what we do here just adds to the systemic misogyny against women, I've considered that, too. It's why I want to get out of this business, do something different, but I can't leave when so many women depend on this job,
I can't sell the club to someone who might not have any qualms about exploiting them.”
“You don't have a high opinion of men, do you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I'm a man-hating feminist.” My tone was all snark and sarcasm. I'd laid myself bare for this guy and he threw that crap in my face?
He raised his hands and leaned back. “That's not what I meant.” He paused. “Okay, maybe it was what I meant. It was a gut reaction. I'm sorry. I understand you're trying to help the women who work here. I just wonder if there might be another way—”
“I do, too,” I said. “Every single day.”
He stared at his hands for a long moment. When he looked up, his expression was blank. I had no clue if he still thought I was a pimp or if I'd managed to change his mind a little. I told myself I didn't care.
“Do some paperwork,” he said. “I'll stand outside your door and listen for trouble. When you feel up to it, we can walk the perimeter, make sure Leopold's not looking to cause any trouble, and help Carly clean.”
I hated taking orders from anyone, especially a guy who annoyed me and at the same time made me wonder what he looked like naked. I didn't have any room to argue with him, though, since my legs still felt like jelly. “Fine. Let me know if you hear anything, even the slightest sound. Leopold's done enough damage to my club.”
He nodded and walked out, pulling a slim book from his back pocket as he left and closing the door behind him. My office felt larger with him out of it, larger and colder.
I shook off the thought and got to work.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I heard something,” Zane said, appearing in my office without making a sound. “You should come with me to check it out.”
I'd gotten about an hour's worth of paperwork done and was expecting a couple of dancers to show up for some practice on the pole. Carly had gotten Zed and a few of his friends to come over and help clean up. I'd wanted to help, but Zane and Carly, and Zed when he'd arrived, had ganged up on me and insisted I rest. “If it's Leopold,” I said. “Act surprised to see him. I'm not supposed to know about the health department inspection.”
Stripped (Wolves of Mule Creek #2) Page 4
