Katie had agreed, but only because Dwayne didn’t push her to interact with the customers. She danced on stage and did the occasional lap dance, although she steered clear of those whenever possible. Considering the other girls were more than willing to rake in the money that Katie was willing to pass up, it all seemed to work out.
But that meant that Katie spent more time on stage. Which, if anything could be considered a blessing, that was it. Only because when she was up there, she could get lost in her own head while forgetting about her problems at the same time. Not an easy feat, mind you.
That and she didn’t have to deal with all of those wandering hands.
But tonight, more than ever, she just wasn’t feeling it. Not that she hadn’t been on a downhill slide for the last few months, ever since she’d put distance between herself and the only happiness she’d ever known.
But Dalton didn’t want to have anything to do with her, and she had predicted it in the beginning. Sure, part of her had hoped that he would fight for what they’d had, but just like everyone else in her life, he’d turned and walked away without looking back.
It was your own fault.
Katie ignored the voice, not wanting to deal with the guilt. It was her fault. No need to rub it in.
And Dalton had plenty of other reasons to not want to talk to her anymore. After all, Katie had lied, although by omission. That she could definitely understand, because it was something she beat herself up for over and over again.
With hurried movements, Katie pulled off her leggings and her T-shirt after kicking off her sandals. She flipped through the clothes hanging on the metal rack in her personal dressing room — another perk of this particular establishment — before yanking one of the outfits off its hanger. Picking out the limited amount of clothing that she was going to wear tonight seemed somewhat redundant to her, but it was a task she endured on the nights she came to work.
Once she pulled on the sequined turquoise bra and matching thong, Katie slipped into an oversized man’s white dress shirt that she kept on before she went up on stage. She would’ve worn it all the time, but Dwayne would have her hide, and avoiding an argument with him was always high on her priority list. The shirt wasn’t much, but as far as she was concerned, it offered a plentiful view of her body, which Dwayne repeatedly informed her was the whole objective when she was in the main part of the club.
Even with the shirt on, she still felt naked.
Sliding onto the stool at the small makeup table, Katie did what she did best. She plastered her face with goop in order to make her look older. Dwayne had wanted to exploit the fact that she looked so young, but even after three years working at Diamonds and Lace, Katie had never given in to him. It was bad enough flaunting her naked body to men she would never even talk to, but she damn sure had no intention of supporting some sort of taboo teenage fetish that they harbored.
A sharp knock sounded on her door, followed by, “You’re on in five.”
“Thanks,” Katie called out to whoever was kind enough to remind her that her doomsday clock was still counting down.
As she stared back at the woman she no longer recognized, Katie sent up a silent prayer, just like she did every single night.
Lord, please let me get through this night. Please forgive me for my sin. And, just because, please know that I’m only doing this for Lexi. Everything I do is for Lexi.
Chapter Eighteen
Dalton never would’ve pegged Cooper for the type of guy to go to a strip club as a way to celebrate his last hoorah to bachelorhood. Yet here they were, all five of them sitting at a table, beers in hand with naked women flaunting themselves back and forth in front of them, hoping for one of them to request their services.
The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on him.
Dalton was well aware of the fact that he’d condemned Katie for working in a place like this, yet he had no qualms about coming in and enjoying all the place had to offer.
It didn’t matter that the strip club that they were at … er, hold up. Amend that. This was a gentlemen’s club as the sign out front boasted — as if it really made a damn bit of difference what they called it. It was still full of nearly naked women.
Regardless of the fancy-ass words in the name, Dalton had to give the place a little credit. Diamonds and Lace Gentlemen’s Club was somewhat classy, if one could actually use class as an accurate adjective when describing a strip club. Truth was, he had definitely been in seedier joints than this one back in his younger days. He just wasn’t one to frequent these sorts of establishments anymore, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was past that stage of his life.
He still had a healthy appreciation for naked women, beer, and hanging with the boys. But when it came to his women these days, he just preferred them to be in his bed, not flaunting their assets for a bunch of horny cowboys drinking cheap beer while losing the last of their common sense.
That and there just wasn’t enough time in the day, to be honest.
Then again, for the last few months, the women he’d busied himself with were one-nighters at best. And even that had been infrequent. It was hard to be with a woman when he closed his eyes and the only person he saw was the one woman he couldn’t have.
But Dalton had vowed not to think about Katie tonight.
Despite his rule to focus on his surroundings, it still didn’t make their outing any easier to wrap his mind around. A strip club? Cooper?
Nope. If he weren’t seeing it with his own two eyes, he never would’ve believed it.
Even though Diamonds and Lace served up a damn good steak, Dalton still didn’t understand how they’d ended up there in the first place. Since he wasn’t much for questioning his friend’s motives, Dalton had just gone with the flow.
Granted, he’d gone a round or two in his head on whether this was actually a good idea or not. After all, he had no idea where Katie worked, or whether she was still stripping. And truth be told, he really didn’t want to find out.
But nevertheless, here they were, and it was true, the venue Coop had chosen to spend the last few hours of his wild and wicked single days did have some kick-ass cuisine, which made up for everything else. Dalton would admit that he was quite fond of a good steak, and to his surprise, he’d just finished one off that had left him wanting more. Rather than look like a backwoods redneck, he had opted not to rake the leftovers from Coop’s plate, although he’d been damn tempted.
Truthfully, Dalton would’ve preferred to be hanging out at The Rusty Nail, gnawing on some chicken wings, downing some shots, singing a little, chatting it up with the locals — the same shit they did most nights when he was in town.
Although, he had been avoiding that place for quite some time. When Coop or Tessa questioned him, he gave them the answer he’d rehearsed over and over again. He had too many other things to focus on. Like work.
Tipping his chair back on two legs, Dalton used the same motion to sip his beer as he leisurely surveyed the room, looking beyond Eric, Adam and Jack The place was nice; he’d give it that. He wasn’t much into the whole strip club scene, but he wouldn’t deny an appreciation for this one with its friendly girls, fantastic food, and elegant décor.
Then again, elegant might’ve been taking things a little too far. It wasn’t like it was a palace. The walls were dark, the floor was dark, but the lighting didn’t blast him in the face the way he was used to when he was on stage, and the girls working the room were pretty. Since that was the gist of the décor, yeah, maybe elegant was going a little overboard.
Dalton would blame it on the beer.
Not that he was paying much attention to the women. That wasn’t why he was there tonight, and Coop knew that. He’d come along to help his buddy bid farewell to singlehood, but only because he hadn’t wanted to throw Cooper to the wolves without backup.
Right, keep telling yourself that.
Dalton downed half his beer in one gulp, purposely ignoring that damn voice in his hea
d that had been prominent over the last three or so months.
Tonight was about enjoying himself, not thinking about anything — or anyone — else.
And he was enjoying himself.
At least that’s what he was forcing himself to believe.
He was actually a little (translated to a helluvalot) surprised that Tessa had allowed Cooper out of the house in the first place. He’d damn near fallen over when he’d found out this had been her idea, and when she’d practically shoved Coop into Dalton’s truck a short while ago, his jaw had been scraping the floor.
Honestly, Dalton had been expecting bingo for Coop’s bachelor party.
However, Tessa never ceased to amaze him. Dalton didn’t have any question as to what his friend saw in her. She was smart, funny, pretty, maybe a bit on the neurotic side at times. And on top of that, she was a little tame for his taste, but to each his own and all that shit. Or at least he’d thought she was, then she went and informed them that she’d booked a night at the club for them.
Who were they to argue with a pretty woman?
Dinner, drinks, and a couple of lap dances later — no, she had not approved of that last part — and they were enjoying the hell out of themselves.
Granted, neither he nor Cooper had been on the receiving end of one of those lap dances. He knew when to keep his shit in his pants, and with his name and his face plastered all over God’s creation anytime he so much as fucking sneezed without warning, Dalton knew better than to attract any unnecessary attention.
He’d been in the paper more than he cared to be in the last few months. Going headstrong into his music and gearing up for some of the farm concerts they’d been focused on had sent quite a bit of attention his way.
It beat having his name in the paper for dating a fucking stripper. Thank God, that shit had died down. He’d had to stop showing his face in Devil’s Bend for a short time, but his disappearing act had worked like a charm.
Didn’t mean he’d managed to get his mind off the only woman who had succeeded in sparking anything in him and the only one capable of holding his attention for longer than five minutes.
Katie Clarren.
The sweet little waitress at Tessa’s bar had captured his eye the moment he’d stepped foot into The Rusty Nail back when Coop had summoned him to the little backwoods town he’d landed in. The same place Cooper now called home.
Not that he was thinking about her anymore.
Right.
It still pained him that he’d lost her long before he’d ever even had her. But he wasn’t about to take the blame for that little fuck up. He hadn’t been the one who had lied.
The moment his eyes had met Katie’s across that crowded bar, Dalton had realized there was something incredibly hot about the petite dark-haired beauty and her sexy little girl-next-door good looks. One of the things he had liked best about Katie… She didn’t give a shit who he was, although he had recognized a little giddy excitement in her pretty gray eyes, which he had to admit was a boost to his ego.
Too bad she used that sweet innocence to take money from naïve cowboys who thought they might just have a chance with her.
It wasn’t easy, but Dalton had managed to stop thinking about her for at least a few hours every day. Mostly when he was asleep. But even then, she’d occupy his dreams. When he was awake, she was frequently invading his thoughts.
Like now.
Fuck.
There was no doubt about it, Dalton still had a hard-on for the pretty little waitress. So much so, he found his wandering eye had ceased to wander too much in recent months even when he’d tried his damnedest to fill his waking hours and sate the lust she’d inspired in him all those months ago. As it turned out, other women just didn’t do it for him, but he’d had to learn that the hard way, too.
Getting over her seemed to be an ever-increasing problem for him, one he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle, but he was up for the challenge.
“How long do we have to stay here?” Coop leaned over as close as he dared and grumbled near Dalton’s ear.
“Your ol’ lady will think you’re the world’s biggest pussy if you come home before nine o’clock,” Dalton answered with a laugh, his chair landing back on all four legs.
“Nine o’clock! Are you fucking serious? What time is it?”
“Seven thirty, bro.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly,” Dalton chimed in as he watched as a new girl took center stage, the previous one rotating to the secondary stage to the right.
Oh, fucking hell.
He would know that walk anywhere.
His eyes didn’t stray beyond the short little number with the long, silky hair. He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t need to. His vision wasn’t obscured because he was sitting near the back, either. She had some sort of fancy mask over her face, apparently part of her costume. Damn. Despite the fact that he could only see her from the neck down, that woman captured his attention like no one else. Even knowing what she was up there doing, Dalton had to admit that she was kind of hot. Okay, no. Kind of wasn’t the right word. She was fucking hot. How was that?
Goddammit, this was not supposed to be happening tonight. What were the fucking odds that they would stumble into the same fucking strip club where Katie worked? Even without seeing her face, he knew it was her. He fucking knew it, and he wanted nothing more than to charge up on that stage and whisk her away from all of this.
Dalton glanced down at his beer, realizing it was empty. Third one and he was ready for another, especially if he was expected to sit there and act like a monk while Cooper passed the minutes before he could get home and engage in some premarital sex while Dalton had a date with his fucking hand. The only thing he was grateful for was that he didn’t have to sleep in Cooper’s guest room anymore. Those two damn sure didn’t have a lot of consideration for their houseguest — at least not once they were in their bedroom. Even the night Dalton had pounded on the wall, answering the call of what he assumed was their headboard, he had been met with a growling Cooper, who’d told him he was more than welcome to go sleep in the barn.
Yeah, no thanks, buddy.
At the time, the new stable and the new barn hadn’t been built yet, and his house had just been a bunch of lines on a sheet of paper. These days, having a bed to sleep in while he was slipping through town whenever possible was the only thing he cared about, which was why he hadn’t given his house much attention.
When he wasn’t in Devil’s Bend, which had been quite a bit these last few months, he was burning a hot trail from state to state focusing on his tour. That had been the only way he could keep his mind off things he knew were better left alone.
Although Cooper pretended not to notice all the flesh shimmying and shaking around him, there was no doubt the guy was going to need to burn off a little steam when he got home.
Too bad Dalton wasn’t going to have that option.
Nodding at the waitress when she asked if he wanted another beer, Dalton gave the room another once-over. The girl on center stage, the one he was pretty damned sure was Katie, caught his eye again as she slowly unhooked that teeny tiny thing she called a bra and allowed it to slide seductively down her arms until it fell to the floor. He gripped the empty beer bottle so hard he was surprised the damn thing didn’t shatter. Even from where he sat, he could see there wasn’t any silicone injected there. Nope, her pert yet plump breasts were au naturel, and he recalled every single fucking time he’d held them in his hands.
Not only did she have an incredible body, all trim and curvy, there was something about the way she moved. Almost as though she was making love to herself as she swayed to the music, using that pole every now and again for effect. The cowboys in the front row were definitely enjoying themselves. Too bad that damned mask obstructed his view, because he was actually quite interested in seeing all of her.
Glutton for punishment — that’s what he was.
He was mesmerized by
her long, dark, shiny hair as it caressed the gentle curves of her ass when she dipped down, glided seamlessly over her gleaming tan skin as she slowly stood back up, offering the cowboys in the front row a perfect view of her bare ass. If it hadn’t been for the barely there turquoise thong separating her ass cheeks, they would’ve gotten a lot more than just that. Her skin was coated with what looked like some sort of body glitter, and the lights did crazy things as she spun around that pole like a woman who’d been trained in the fine art of seduction. He could almost imagine wrapping his fist in all that hair again, holding her head back as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth.
That’s Katie, you dumbass, and you’re done with her, remember?
Thank you, subconscious… For the not-so-subtle reminder that he was acting like an idiot.
The last thing he wanted was for them to realize that was Katie. That wouldn’t go over well at all, so Dalton turned his attention to the others at the table, trying to listen in on the conversation. Eric was telling a story about something that’d happened at the bar the other night while Tessa’s brothers, Jack and Adam, chimed in from time to time. Eric seemed about as interested in being in the club as he probably was in going to the opera, and the way he kept his eyes from wandering past the edge of the table was pretty damned amusing.
Of all five of them, Tessa’s older brother, Adam, who was down here for only two days, seemed the most comfortable. He’d already paid for a couple of lap dances, bought some chick several drinks, but didn’t seem to be working too hard to take her home. Every time a naked ass sashayed past, he’d take a hearty swallow of his beer and allow his gaze to linger for a little while.
At least one of them was having some fun.
Jack, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. If Dalton wasn’t mistaken, Jack hadn’t glanced once at any one of the nearly nude women flaunting their God-given — albeit surgically enhanced — gifts all around him. Dalton wasn’t surprised. Had this been a Chippendale’s, Jack might’ve been a little more interested. Not that Jack would’ve admitted to that, but Dalton knew. He might be the only other one at the table privy to that information, but he knew Jack was firmly rooted in the closet and it was only a matter of time before he came barreling through that door. The guy was keeping his sexual preferences close to his chest, something that would eventually tear him apart, but it wasn’t Dalton’s place to say anything.
Vanishing Dreams: Vanishing Dreams (Devil's Bend #2) Page 14