Page 39 of Sexy Bad Escort

Her chucklechases me down the hall.

***

It’smidday, too late for the lunch crowd and too early for happy hourpatrons, which means thebar I’m meeting my latest client at is pretty much deserted.There’s a silver-haired host who I think might be the owner, apretty blonde bartender, and one dark-haired guy sitting at thebar, hunched over his drink. My client hasn’t arrivedyet.

I bellyup,leaving a few seatsbetween me and the other guy, and ask the tender for a SummerShanty in the bottle. She places it in front of me and wanders offto stack glasses. I take my first drink, and out of the corner ofmy eye see the other guy slide off his barstool. My client shouldbe here any minute.

Then theguy drops onto the stool next to me, and I glance up sharply… at my brother. He’ssporting a full-on beard; clearly hasn’t shaved since he arrived inChicago nearly a week ago, and he’s wearing a pair of khaki shortsand a T-shirt that stretches across his massive chest, outliningevery single bulge and angle. No matter how hard I work at it, I’llnever be as big as him. I’ve mostly come to terms withthat.

“Whatare you doing here?” I ask. “Never mind.Listen, I can’t chat. Meeting a client.” I glanceat my watch. It’s 2:35. Where’s my latest assignment? I start toslide off the stool when he drops his hand onto my arm.

“I’myour client,” hesays.

“What the fuckare you talking about?”

“I knowwhat youdo. Saw yourwebsite. Made an appointment online.”

“Son ofa bitch. I need to get better at vettingthose inquiries.”

Hesmirks.“Nice graphics,by the way.”

“Ronniedid them.” I’m glaring at him. My face is probably turning twenty shades of red as myblood pressure rises. Waiting for him to start trashing what I’vechosen to do for a living. Just like Dad would do.

“Prettyingenious. I bet you’rereally good at it too.”

I freezein the processoflifting the bottle to my mouth, and then I stay like that for fartoo long. My mouth is hanging open, too.

“Why do youlook so damn surprised?” he grumbles, looking down at his ownbeer.

“I, uh,I guess I didn’t realize you knew what a complimentwas.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I mean,Iassume you know how tocompliment the ladies. Or do you just flash your guns and they fallat your feet?”

Joe shrugs.“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

I snortandthen chug my beeruntil it’s empty. Holy shit, am I having a semi-normal conversationwith my brother? We haven’t had one of these in…

“How long’s itbeen?” I ask while waving at the tender.

Shegrabs another Summer Shanty, popping the cap off as she walkstoward me.Her gaze ison Joe as she places the bottle on the bar. “How about you,handsome?”

“What am I,chopped liver?” I mutter.

“Nope.You’re hot too,” she says. “But you’re not my type. You’re thestick-around-forevertype. This guy, he looks like all he wants is a couple hours of mytime. Which I’m totally down for.”

Joe lifts hisbrows. “We gotta go to your place.”

“That’scool.I get off atseven.”

“Actually, you’ll be getting off at seventhirty,” Joe says, and I spew beer ontothe bar. The tender chuckles and wipes it up before stepping awayagain.

“Holy shit,that was one of the worst pickup lines I’ve ever heard,” I say.

“Itwasn’t apickup line,” Joe shoots back. “We’d already made plans by thatpoint.”

“I can’tbelieve you ever get laid. I mean, I can”—I wave at his gigantic arms—“but still,that was horrible. Also, I’m not the forever type. I don’t knowwhere she got that from.”

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