The guy from earlier in the night was one of the few single guys in the group and was older than most of his friends, but he had one of those faces that could seriously be anywhere between twenty-five and forty-five, especially with the hat on. His faded Henley shirt, baggy jeans, and mismatched socks pushed Lucky’s guess closer to thirty. Thirty and working some kind of tech job out in the burbs and quite possibly never been laid. His tense muscles and shifting eyes said he was intensely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the usual straight-guy-dragged-to-gay-bar discomfort. Guy was absolutely gay or bi. This was more like I have no idea how to have fun. Someone save me from myself. And damn if Lucky didn’t find that a little endearing.
He gave Mr. Adorkable a wink before spinning and giving the guy one of his best twerking sequences. The crowd whooped as Lucky spun back to face them. The guy next to Mr. Adorkable wore a “Birthday Boy” T-shirt. Brother had a smaller blond guy on his lap and the bemused expression of guy well on his way to getting smashed. He jostled his boy until the guy bounded off his lap, cheeks pink, and put a tightly folded bill in the waistband of Lucky’s briefs.
The blond returned to the birthday boy’s lap amid much hoots and hollers. With the attention still somewhat on him, Lucky went for a bit of wall twerking, and a few of the birthday boy’s friends tipped while Lucky was still upside down. Someone brought a round of shots over, and the birthday boy got a gleam in his eye. He pulled a five out of his pocket before grabbing a shot. He nudged Mr. Adorkable. “Shot or you have to tip the dancer.”
“And if I want neither?” Damn. The guy had the nicest voice Lucky had ever heard from a white guy—rich and deep, with enough grit to keep things interesting, but a smooth delivery that could get the guy any radio job he wanted.
“Shot. Or. Tip.” Yeah, birthday boy was loaded. But so were his friends, who joined the chant until the guy twitched nervously. He looked up at Lucky, a plea in his eyes.
“Shot’s gonna burn. I won’t.” Lucky winked at him again. Sorry, buddy. I’m not saving your cute ass.
Guy blushed way harder than the birthday boy’s boy toy had as he folded the bill, face flaming all the way to his ears, which made the whole group whoop again. The man was tall enough that he barely had to leave his seat to reach Lucky’s platform. He looked Lucky up and down, considering. Damn. Lucky was pretty much immune to heated glances at this point in his career, but something about the amount of sheer wonder in the man’s expression made Lucky’s insides all flippy.
Then, with surprisingly deft fingers, the guy tucked the bill in the top of Lucky’s boot. His shoe. Not that he was the first to tip that way, but damn. Lucky didn’t miss a beat, but he did give what he hoped was a playful frown.
“Ooh. You insulted the stripper.”
“That so doesn’t count!”
“Wuss!”
The group had no shortage of complaints as Mr. Adorkable took his seat again. A skinny Adam Lambert clone reached for a shot, and Lucky knew what was coming even before he held it out with a five.
“Tip the dancer for me, M. Please.”
“Y’all are trashed.” M’s voice had a hint of country this time. What was interesting, too, was that this was the voice of a confident man, someone used to being in charge of shit. And yet M was so clearly out of his depth in the club.
“And you’re way too sober.” The punk guy had the sort of grin that made all the boys want to line up and sin. “Shot or tip? Come on, man.”
The others chorused their encouragement for M to pick one or the other option.
“Fine.” M grabbed the money. Oh this was interesting. Adorkable clearly wasn’t going to drink, but he also seemed loathe to just tell his friends to keep their liquor to themselves. Lucky’s Uncle Benny was working his twelve steps hard—again, and part of Lucky wanted to tell M’s friends to stuff the peer pressure.
He gave M his most welcoming, nonthreatening smile and held the waistband of his briefs open a smidge. “See, told you I don’t bite,” he said as the guy slid the money in.
The guy muttered some words, far too softly for Lucky to hear over the music, but after working in enough clubs, he was damn good at reading lips. He could swear the guy said, “Not what I’m afraid of.”
Which could be interpreted a dozen ways, not all of them a come-on, and the puzzle gave Lucky something to cogitate on as the music transitioned to the next song. M was back in his seat, but his eyes hadn’t left Lucky.
You watching? Watch this. And Lucky busted out some pole moves using the vertical support of the rail. He worked that Nicki Minaj beat hard. His best shit really, and he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to impress the obviously flustered M. And really, really wasn’t sure why in the hell he was hoping the friends kept feeding M their tips for Lucky.
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bedcovers. Now she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multipublished Pacific Northwest romance writer. Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two toddlers.
Annabeth can be found online at annabethalbert.com, @annabeth albert on Twitter, and Facebook.com/annabethalbert.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
LYRICAL SHINE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Annabeth Albert
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Shine and Lyrical Shine logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: February 2016
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3504-8
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-505-5
ISBN-10: 1-60183-505-1
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