Page 1 of Not Ready

Chapter One

Vale

It’s nights like tonight when I really wish the universe would get on board with setting me up to be independently wealthy.

Working two jobs has been kicking my ass since long before I got pregnant.

My back aches and my feet throb, but I’ve got a little over an hour left before I’m cut. Being a server at The Kitty Cat Lounge isn’t terrible, but some nights are more chaotic than others.

There’s a bachelor party, and it’s a Friday night, so it was already packed to capacity. Most of the eyes in the room are on the stage, which makes sense because Sasha is a fan favorite.

My empty tray is heavy, and my nearly eight-month pregnant belly makes it awkward to hold it vertically to my chest like I used to. I try to flatten it as much as possible, but it doesn’t really help as I weave through the patrons.

One of my tables is in the front near the stage. Making it back to the bar without being jostled around just isn’t happening tonight.

“Watch out.” Andrew’s voice shocks me, and my head flies up. He grabs a guy that I’ve never seen before, yanking his elbow away from making contact with my stomach. “She’s pregnant, asshole.”

The other guy doesn’t seem to like being touched, and he shakes out of Andrew’s hold.

I back away as the three guys at Andrew’s table stand to back up their friend. They surround the guy who almost bumped into me. They’re all kinda rough around the edges. I’m not sure if they just work hard, or maybe they’re actually involved in some sort of criminal activity.

Either way, I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever is brewing.

My gaze darts around the room, searching for security.

The Kitty Cat Lounge doesn’t necessarily cater to the most desirable patrons. I’m used to ignoring gun holsters and redirecting grabby hands.

It’s a whole different world of stressful to have a baby on board for all of this, but if I want to be able to afford said infant, then I don’t have a lot of choices.

I give Andrew a tight smile. “Thanks, but don’t get yourself kicked out trying to protect me.”

He flashes what I imagine some women would consider a dazzling smile. “I’ve got you, honey. Get back to work.”

There’s something about him that makes me uncomfortable, but I’ve never been able to place my finger on exactly what it is.

I nod, pulling my shoulders back and heading for the bar. He’s been coming in at least once or twice a week for over six months, and the other girls say it’s always during my shifts.

I’m one of the few omegas not on the roster for the main stage or private dances. I never realized how putting myself off-limits would actually make me more attractive to some of these guys. Seriously, I’m an awful dancer. They wouldn’t be pleased with my performance, but they still make outlandish offers to try to tempt me into it.

I sigh, praying the rest of the night goes more smoothly than it has so far.

Living a couple of blocks away from my job is convenient. Especially since my apartment doesn’t have a parking lot. The car lot where I rent a spot charges the same for a day ticket as it does a week. Which means if I exit the lot after a day, it’s the same price as if my car sat for an entire week. Being poor is hell. I often wonder if it’s really worth taking my car or if it’s better just to walk.

The cool night air teases my skin as I head down the sidewalk.

Today was a long-ass day because I worked a double shift—two p.m. to two in the morning—but I’ll live. The major upside of working weekends is the tips are so much better than weeknights. Walking home with hundreds of dollars of cash in my purse always feels a little sketchy.

I never fail to psych myself out.

Truthfully, I’m not stupid.

No matter how much I need the money, I’d chuck my purse and run in a heartbeat if the need arose. Not that I’m all that swift, considering the extra pregnancy weight, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying.

My head swivels as I peek over my shoulder.

The area is pretty well-lit, considering the late hour. I pick up my pace, and the sound of my flats hitting the concrete fills the air. There’s a dog barking somewhere to my left and car noises from one of the busier streets to my right, but nothing to indicate anyone is following me.

So, why the hell are my impulses going completely haywire?

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