Page 17 of Sexy Bad Escort

Sam flicks mea glance and dismisses me without a word.

“This is good.One of the best IPAs I’ve tasted,” I say.

“You’regood looking, man, but I don’t swing that way,” Sam finallyacknowledges me without taking his gaze away from Donna’s swaying body.

“So thoseclichés about strippers aren’t all true?”

“Nope, not allof them.”

“How about theidea that they can’t have long-lasting relationships?”

Henarrows his eyes and turns his head my way. I nod at thegaggle of women on thedance floor.

“She’s agreat girl. Definitely akeeper,” I say.

“How do youknow?”

“Met her forlunch earlier today.”

Hetenses, the glistening muscles on his arms bunching while heclutches his beer mug and probably talks himself downfrom tossing it at myhead.

“She’s payingme to be here,” I confess. “I’m supposed to go over there and hiton her to make you jealous.”

His eyeswiden. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. Sheclaims nothing else she’s tried has worked.”

“Shehasn’t tried anythingelse.”

I shrug. “Shethinks she has.”

Heswipes his hand over his face and then polishes off the first beerbefore shaking his head. “She hates my job. I keep telling her it’sgood money, it’s harmless, and I’m only doing it to pay my waythrough school. Butshe’s afraid I’m going to fall for one of my clients and break upwith her. So last week she decided to beat me to the punch bycalling it quits on me.”

“And now she’srealized her mistake and can’t figure out how to fix it.”

He gavethe topic ofourconversation a mournful look. “I guess.”

“Doesshe havejustificationfor her fear?”

Heshakes his head. “No. I mean, that’s howwemet, but I love her. I don’t even see these otherwomen. They’re just a paycheck.”

I can relate. Iglance at my almost-empty beer mug. “So how do you want to playthis out? I’m happy to give her a refund.”

“Nah.Keep the money. We all gotta live. But I’ll handle tonight’s job.” He pushes offfrom the bar and stalks to the dance floor. Doesn’t even hesitateas he walks up to Donna, wraps his arms around her, and pulls herinto his chest. She collapses against him, her hands gripping theback of his vest, while he whispers something into her ear. Whenshe lifts her gaze to me, he shakes his head and whispers more, andthen she nods, and the two of them step off the dance floor, handin hand.

My work hereis done.

***

Erinsteps through the sliding glass doors andheads across the patio to hand me a beer beforeshe drops into the lounge chair next to me and puts the otherbottle to her lips.

“Welcomehome. I take it there’s no honeymoon baby?” I ask, watching herdrink. She’s glowing, a combination of post-honeymoon bliss and anice Caribbean tan.

“Nah. Wedecided we just want to have fun. Plus, those fruity drinks were sodamn good, I wasn’tabout to forego them.”

“Can’tsay I blame you. Although I thought the plan was to work onprovidingMama Frostwith her next grandbaby?”

Erinshrugs and drinks more beer.“We’ll probably start trying after the first of the year.That way, if it happens right away, the baby will be born duringthe off-season and Garrett won’t have to worry about traveling verymuch for the first few months.”

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