Page 43 of Indigo Sky

Scott laughed with a shake of his head while buffing the bar with a rag. "You always gotta make it weird, don't ya, Wend?"

"Oh, shut up, you." Wendy playfully slapped Scott's hand as the rag passed her by.

He flashed her a grin, then said to me, "I'm gonna go grab your burger. Don't let her hit on you. Her husband wouldn’t hesitate to murder you."

"Thanks for the tip," I said, giving him a one-fingered salute.

He walked back through the door to what I assumed was the kitchen, and Wendy was quick to start chatting, makingsmall talk and whatever, when the smooth voice over the speakers grabbed my attention.

"Please give a warm welcome to our next dancer …" He paused for effect, then said, "Indigo Sky."

The name set my heart beating an irregular tune, and without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder. The woman who had once upon a time given me my first kiss took to the stage, wearing a sheer, sparkling, long-sleeved white top and a pair of shorts to match. Her legs looked three miles long in her silver stiletto heels, and her long, wavy hair was still that bright, vibrant shade of pink.

"Ah," Wendy said from beside me in a knowing, teasing tone. "Yeah, all the guys like Indie."

"Huh?" I turned to look at the blonde woman to find her watching me with a smirk.

Scott hurried out and put my burger down in front of me. I thanked him and began to eat, all too aware that my break was quickly coming to an end, though I couldn't imagine Saul giving me shit for taking a minute or two longer to inhale my food.

The crowd behind me cheered and hollered for the woman onstage, and while I felt the tug of desperation to know why, I kept my attention on the burger as Wendy began to talk.

"She's the favorite around here," she said, but not in a jealous sort of way. Nah, she said it with affection, maybe even pride. "Gorgeous girl. Absolutely freakin' stunning. Guys have quite literally gone insane over her. Honestly, she could've made it big as a ballerina or model, but—"

"Who?" Scott asked, lifting a brow.

Wendy nudged her head over her shoulder. "Indie."

He clamped his mouth shut and exaggerated a nod. "Oh, yeah. Indie is …" He gave a low whistle. "She's somethin' else."

I eyed him over my burger as a rush of protective possessiveness washed over me for a woman I didn’t know. I had kissed her once. She likely didn't even remember me in the way I remembered her, and that was fine. I understood the nature of her job. She took her clothes off for men and women night after night, gave dances to whoever was willing to pay, and how many of them she had kissed … I could only imagine. Yet there was still a part of me—a pathetic one really—that wanted to think that maybe there had been something about me that set our kiss apart from the others. Something special. Something that had made me stand out in her mind if that moment from years ago ever came forward, the way she did in mine.

Like I’d said, it was pathetic, and I had no right to feel at all jealous of Scott for maybe having the same experience with her … or more.

Wendy sighed and stood. "All right. I’d better get back out there. Rev, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too," I mumbled, holding a hand over my mouth to keep my food from falling out.

She walked away, leaving Scott and me alone at the bar. He folded his arms against the surface, obviously taking the stance of someone who wanted to chat.

Now, let's just get this out in the open … I liked Scott. He wasn't a friend, not in the way that I considered Joe to be one, but he was a good guy. I didn't mind hanging out with him when he met Joe and me at the bar for drinks. But when it came down to it, I didn't know a whole lot about him, and I guessed now, seeing as we were more or less working together, that was about to change.

"So, technically, the girls aren't allowed to give the impression that they’re called for while working," he informed me in a low voice, as if it were a secret. “So, no giving dances to husbands or boyfriends or whatever during working hours. No wedding rings, that kinda thing.”

"Okay," I muttered wryly, not sure how I felt about this particular rule. Not sure why he was telling me.

"It's a part of the boss's policy to maintain a level of anonymity between the dancers and customers," Scott went on, holding my gaze as I finished eating. “However, we aren’t prohibited from dating them, as long as there's a level of professionalism during work hours."

I lifted my chin and eyed him with curiosity. "I mean, that's good to know and all, but—"

"All I'm saying is"—he shrugged and pushed off the bar—"if, in the future, the opportunity should arise and you wanna ask someone out … nobody would give you a hard time. That's all I'm saying."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I didn’t see her again that first night.

Honestly, I was caught somewhere between wanting to stare at her for all of eternity and never wanting to see her again, and I couldn’t really tell you why. Maybe I was worried that the fantasy would die, you know? Like, we’d had a few moments of killer chemistry a long time ago … so why ruin it by finding out that chemistry was no longer alive?

So, yeah, I didn’t go out of my way to see her. I can’t say Iavoidedher. I just … you know … didn’t force it.

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