by Piper Rayne
“You called me here to talk, not to fight.”
“Not true.”
“True.” The song ends and he steps closer to me, finally positioning himself into a boxing stance. “Otherwise you would’ve come here by yourself. Admit it. You want me to convince you not to screw her.” He winks. Sometimes he thinks he’s so superior that it’s annoying, but damn if he doesn’t have a point. “If your mind was made up you would’ve called Vance and he would have said ‘look at me and my fairy tale come true’ and you would’ve run right out of here to her.”
“The cocky, arrogant asshole isn’t your best look.”
He chuckles, his fist weaving over my head as I duck. “Ha. It’s my only look, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“One day you’re gonna get your ass kicked.” I chuckle and hammer him right in the face, a tad harder than I intended.
“Watch the face, asshole.” He steps back into the ropes.
“Come on, pretty boy.” I wave him forward with my gloves. “Let’s shift the conversation your way.”
He comes toward me, the promise of payback in his eyes. “Pretty soon I’m going to tell you to fuck her so that you can work your aggression out. I’m not the fucking punching bag.”
“Let’s just spar and quit the bullshit.” I start bouncing on the balls of my feet and we circle each other a few times.
“I didn’t know you guys were here.” Mark, the gym manager, stands next to the ring.
“I’m just kicking his ass,” Jagger says, hammering a punch right to my ribs. I slide back away before coming toward him again.
“He wishes.” I go toward his face and he dodges and then stops.
“Not the face,” he says.
Mark laughs. “Good thing you aren’t looking for a career in boxing,” Mark says.
“No shit, right?” I say, giving Jagger a two-punch on both sides of his stomach.
My movement fuels Jagger’s competitive side and he picks up the intensity. Mark disappears and our casual sparring turns more physical with us dancing around one another, fists flying, both of us out for the other’s blood. I aim for his face to unnerve him and he jabs my stomach more than a few times.
“Time’s up, boys.” Mark rings the bell and we both collapse on the mat.
“Thanks,” I say to Jagger and sit up, resting my forearms on my knees.
“Anytime. I think I needed it more than I thought.” Jagger mimics my stance and we smile at one another. “Seriously though, don’t bang her until you fire her.”
He has to hammer down that last piece of brotherly advice. He did the same thing to Vance when he was interested in Layla. He’s right, it may have been subconsciously, but I asked him here to remind me why I can’t touch Teegan’s sweet ass.
“Who’s the suit?” Jagger asks Mark, nodding toward a guy walking around with one of the trainers.
“Lucas? He owns all the Xtreme gyms.”
Jagger and I both look over at the guy more likely to adorn the cover of GQ magazine than step into this ring. Mark must recognize the look on our faces.
“Don’t underestimate him. He used to box in the amateur series up in San Francisco. Then he got married and had a few kids. He could kick both of your asses.” Mark’s smiling face says he’s just trying to razz us.
“Fuck that,” Jagger says.
“Upset that you don’t have the biggest bank account here?” Mark laughs and I join in.
Jagger’s head whips in his direction. “Fuck that. I do too.”
Mark’s tongue clicks off the roof of his mouth. “I think you’re wrong.”
While Mark and I find amusement in this, Jagger looks disappointed. One day he’ll have to realize it’s not the suit you wear, the car you drive, or how much money you have that makes you the person you are. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great friend—obviously, since he dropped everything to meet me here—but the man thinks his worth is tied to those things.
“Think of it this way. He’s married, so at least you have more women than him.” I pat Jagger’s back and stand up to make room for the next guys in the ring.
“Damn right.” He follows me through the ropes. “Let’s go out tonight. With these fresh marks, you can get that chick out of your head and I’ll find some new chicks.”
“I’m meeting Oscar tonight. You can come.”
An annoyed huff leaves his mouth. “Not exactly the chicks I was hoping for.”
“He’s threatening to stop working for me if I don’t join him.”
“He’s such a drama queen. He’s just trying to recruit you to swing for his team.”
We walk into the locker room and I grab my t-shirt from my bag. I look down my nose at him. “Pretty sure he knows I don’t.”
“I’m out tonight. Last time, those guys at the bar had a hard time accepting no.” He grabs his shower stuff.
“Everyone wants a piece of Jagger Kale,” I joke.
“Isn’t that the truth.” He shakes his head. “Call me later.” He disappears into the shower area and I grab my duffle bag, heading out of the gym to head home for a shower.
A night at the gay bar is not going to get Teegan out of my mind. It seems these days nothing will.
10
Teegan
“Why do I let you talk me into these things?” I ask Sophie as she passes the line in front of the building. “Also, remind me how you have an in here, since you aren’t exactly their ideal clientele.” I smile at the men in line who are looking me up and down as I jog in heels to catch up to my friend.
“My cousin bartends. He’s putting us on the list. Plus, we need a fun night out without dealing with a bunch of assholes thinking a five-dollar drink gets them in our bed.”
“You know one of the assholes might end up being Mr. Sophie one day.”
She huffs. “From your mouth to Satan’s ears. I will not be meeting my HEA in a bar, thank you very much.”
Sophie believes she’ll meet her future husband at the supermarket as they both reach for an apple, or they’ll be seated next to one another in the last two available seats at a movie. She wants the movie romance, the perfect story that will be told to generations of great-grandchildren five hundred years from now.
She stops in front of the bouncer, who’s looking down skeptically at us. Yes, we’re the chicks who think they deserve VIP access.
“Can I help you?” the bouncer asks, muscles bulging out of his t-shirt, his jeans moulded to his strong thighs.
“Sophie Kingsman.” She rises to her tiptoes to stare down at the clipboard in his hand. The girl should be an actress, not a reporter.
The blond man stares down at us, obviously still confused to why we would be on a VIP list of the hottest gay bar in the city.
Sophie pushes out her breasts and the man definitely notices, but his face remains unreadable.
“Kingsman, huh?” he asks, his eyes not diverting away from Sophie.
“Yes. My cousin is Drew.”
Sophie can work almost any man into a frenzy and she’s pulling out all the moves tonight. Her recently whitened teeth bite down on her lower lip and her innocent eyes flutter and I can’t help but wonder why she’s trying so hard when we’re supposed to be on the list.
He glances down at his clipboard, his lips curling into a smile. “Kingsman.” He nods and reaches for the latch of the rope. “Come on.” He glances at the line where a bunch of patrons voice their displeasure about him letting a couple girls in.
“Wasted space, man,” someone yells.
Sophie saunters through, blowing a kiss to the guys in line while I follow behind.
“I’ll come find you when I’m off.” The bouncer’s big hand lands on her hip, pulling her to him. Clearly the man working the door of the gay bar does not need to be gay himself.
“I’ll be waiting.” She tilts her head, allowing her hair to brush his arm. She’s so evil.
Then we’re through the door and my eyes are met with an abundance of bare chests.
>
“Why is it that gay men always have the best bodies?” I say, taking in the insane number of six-packs in the place.
“Don’t you just want to touch and lick?” Sophie responds, running her hand down a guy’s sweaty chest. He winks at her playfully, enjoying the attention.
“I don’t think you’re their type,” I remind her and she laughs all the way to the bar.
The line is three deep, but Sophie’s never been one to abide by the rules, so we slide and weave through the bodies, my face heating with each step.
“Drew!” she screams.
So she does know a Drew here.
She jumps up, her hand high in the air, but in a sea of men, most well over her short stature even with heels, she’s got no chance.
“Scream for him,” she tells me. My shoulders slump.
“I’m only a few inches taller than you.”
“Then prop me on your shoulders.” She tries to turn me around.
“Not happening. Let’s just wait.” I grip my purse in front of my body.
“We’re women. Women don’t wait for drinks.” Sophie continues to hop up and down on her tiptoes.
“In this bar, we do.” I smile over to the guy beside me who’s watching us with an amused expression. He smiles back.
“Best friend?” He leans in close to ask me.
I nod, the music pounding throughout the space.
“You’re the quiet one, she’s the loud one, I’m guessing?”
The guy is shirtless with a slight gut, nothing I’d complain about, but given the washboard abs surrounding me, if I were him I’d feel self-conscious. His jeans are slung low with the waistband of his underwear peeking out. He might not be as young and good-looking as some of the other men, but if he was straight, I’d give him a second look.
“Did the fact that I’m hanging back while my friend offends everyone possible tip you off?” I chuckle.
He leans in again, the smell of cologne and sweat permeating my nose. “We’ve something in common.” He points to a guy two people away from Sophie with his hand raised, calling for Drew.
“Drew gets around,” I say over the music.
The guy wraps his arm around my shoulders and to not offend my new friend, I keep the fact his sweaty arm might be staining my dress to myself. “More than you know. I’m Jack. Let’s dance.”
“I need to wait for my friend.”
He looks in Sophie’s direction. “Cade!” he screams and the guy he pointed out earlier turns in our direction. “Watch the girl.” He points.
Cade nods and then slides past the two bodies and cozies up to Sophie. She shoos him away, probably telling him to get behind her, but right as Jack is swiveling me around, I see Sophie start laughing.
On the way to the dance floor, Jack sees someone he knows and veers off toward a table, grabbing some guy’s ass once we reach it. Not sure I blame him. It does look awfully nice in his jeans.
The man turns to find the culprit, shaking his head at Jack and pushing him gently in the chest. Then his eyes move in my direction. His gaze runs up and down my body, but not in a way that suggests that he’s checking me out, more in an is-there-a-vagina-under-that-dress-or-are-you-a-drag-queen kind of way. He points over in my direction.
“Who’s your friend?” he asks Jack, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I don’t even know, but she looked lost and you know how much of a lover I am.” Jack laughs.
“Don’t I,” the other guy says, his gaze remaining on me.
“Teegan.” I place my hand in his.
He shakes it and I catch an amused expression on his face. “Oscar. Oscar Reyes. Do you want a drink?” He grabs a bottle from the middle of the table.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you though.” I smile so I don’t offend him, but no way am I taking a drink from an open bottle, even if gay men surround me.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and pours more of what I think is champagne in his glass.
“Did you get stood up again?” Jack asks Oscar, reaching for the champagne and drinking straight from the bottle.
“No.” Oscar’s eyes light up. “He finally showed this time.”
“I told you. You were so worried,” Jack says and the two of them continue having a conversation, as I stand by like an outsider. Jack looks around and I want to raise my hand and say, I’m here—the woman you stole from the bar to dance with, only to have a conversation with someone as I stand here like an idiot—but he looks past me. “Wait. Where is he?”
Oscar laughs. “Had to take a phone call outside.”
Jack cringes. “I hope he comes back.” Then the DJ blends the music into a new song and Jack’s eyes light up. He grabs my hand and yanks me toward the dance floor.
“Hold up.” I dislodge from Jack’s hold. “Do you mind if I leave my purse here? I’ll be right back.”
My eyes must plead enough for me because Oscar nods. “You’re paying for the next round.” He smiles.
“Definitely.” Then Jack picks me up around the waist and his sweat soaks the back of my dress.
Hello, dry-cleaning bill.
Out on the dance floor, Jack has moves and he shoos plenty of men away in order to twirl me around the floor. His sole attention is on me and not for the purpose of trying to pick me up, but just because we’re having fun. Now I realize why Sophie wanted to come here tonight. We’re able to have fun here with no expectations.
Three songs later, I’m the one hugging Jack and allowing his sweat to ruin my outfit. It doesn’t matter because I’m probably just as bad at this point. My hair is now stringy and wet. Seriously, do they have the heat on in here? Now I understand why there’s so many bare chests in here.
“Drink!” Jack yells.
He pulls me by the hand, dragging me through the crowd until we reach the table. Thankfully, Sophie’s there, tucked in the middle of a booth with Cade, right next to Oscar’s table, the two of them laughing. I slide in next to her, finding my purse at her side.
“Oh, good, Oscar gave it to you?”
She shoots me a fleeting look, crinkling her forehead, and focuses on Cade once more.
I dig through my purse, finding a hair tie and pull my hair up off my neck, securing it up on top of my head. I’m not even sure why I did my hair to begin with.
Jack grabs a bottle of water from the table, downing half of it, and then sliding another one my way.
“Thanks.” I gasp for breath, twisting the plastic cap off and letting the cold water pour down my throat.
“You looked amazing out there,” Sophie says and wraps her arm around my shoulders.
Cade’s tongue is now halfway down Jack’s throat.
“Thanks. I needed this. Needed to get him off my mind.” I rest my head on her shoulder.
“Well, the night is young. But I’m surprised you left your purse on the table with some guy you don’t even know.”
“What can I say? I guess you’re rubbing off on me.” Truth is I always keep my ID tucked into my bra and I only brought a little bit of money, so even if it did go missing it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.
She giggles and hip-checks me to slide out of the booth. “Let’s go dance again.”
I look around. “There’s no one to watch my purse.”
“I told you not to bring it.”
I roll my eyes. She’ll be asking to borrow my lipstick later on when she’s freshening up and then she’ll be glad I brought my purse.
She giggles again. Cade and Jack are already on their way to the dance floor.
“Where’s the guy from before? Oscar?”
She looks around. “He said he was going to see if his friend got lost.”
“You go then. And as soon as he returns I’ll go. We probably don’t want to lose the booth anyway.”
Sophie looks at the wall-to-wall people in the place. “You’re right. Okay, two songs max and I’ll be back.” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “I hate to leave you alone.”
I glance past Sophie and wish the smile would leave my face because it makes him smile and he looks so damn good when he smiles. Although I shouldn’t be surprised to find him here, I wish he wasn’t.
11
Leo
“Leo?” Teegan’s eyes bug out of her head.
“Why are you at my table?” I look over to her friend. “Nice to see you again, Sophie.”
“You, too.” Sophie’s voice is meek and from what I witnessed standing across the room, I don’t think it’s her usual personality.
“Go dance. I got Teegan.” I slide in to the booth until my leg touches Teegan’s. A current of electricity courses up my leg and straight to my groin. Bad idea.
“I’m sure you do, but—” Sophie stands at the edge of the table.
“Go, Soph, I’m good.” Teegan gives her friend the go-ahead and Sophie runs toward the dance floor. “Are you here with Oscar?” Teegan asks.
“You know Oscar?” If she knows Oscar, she should know that he’s my business partner. I use that term loosely since he only owns ten percent of the company, but his work with the appliqués and beading—not my forte—were worth it.
She shakes her head, her brain still working overtime putting all the pieces together. “No, I just asked him to hold my purse while I danced.”
“You do love dancing.” The memory from earlier today of her tight ass swaying in my store hits me like a freight train.
She smiles and my guess is she’s remembering the same. A second later she’s bouncing in her seat and reaching for the champagne. “Hey, I get to celebrate with you after all!”
I cover my glass with my hand. “Nah, I’m not drinking tonight.”
“Why?”
I tilt my head, staring at her for a second. She’s so damn beautiful. “Early morning tomorrow.” I don’t mention that I never drink when I’m out with Oscar because I’m usually the one carrying him home. He asks me why I’m straight and I ask him why he’s gay. He says he loves dick and I say I love pussy. From the bar to his apartment it’s like going around and around on a carousel.