Page 56 of Bad Luck Club

Lee. Another flash of his lips on hers, his hardness pressed against her in a way that had promised a long night of passion. A throb of sadness and longing pulsed through her.

“Yeah,” she said numbly. “He was a bit of a fish out of water last week. I’d hoped…well, I’d hoped he’d find his stride with us. But he’s avoided me all week. I doubt he’ll come back. Please don’t mention him around Adalia, Harry. Seriously. You know he’s her brother.”

He was studying her in a way that brought a blush to her cheeks. “Shit. I’d wondered,” he said. “You have a thing for him, don’t you?”

“There are rules against that,” she said brusquely, not bothering to deny it.

“If rules prevented people from feeling something for each other, gay people wouldn’t still exist.”

She shrugged a little. “Okay, so maybe I have some nonsponsor-type feelings for him, but—”

“Wait, are you thinking of takinghimon the date for your challenge?”

“No!” she said, maybe a little too emphatically. “I couldn’t do that. You know I already have three strikes from refusing challenges. That means I have to make more than a token effort to do this one. Going on a date with someone who’s supposed to be off-limits wouldn’t exactly make Bear happy.”

“But itwouldbe a token effort,” he said with a grin. “More than worthy of a half a point.”

“I’m sure that’ll comfort me when I get kicked out.”

He waved her concern away. “No way would Bear kick you out. He acts like you’re the daughter he never had. He’d think of some extenuating circumstance that would make everything you do okay. Augusta, on the other hand. She’s on three, too, and I’m thinking this is it for her.”

“You’re hoping,” she said with a small smile. Augusta pushed everyone’s buttons—it was why she’d joined the club, she couldn’t help herself—but she pushed hardest with Harry.

This time he shrugged. “No one’s ever gotten kicked out except for that one guy, remember him? What was his name? Bob?”

“Todd.”

“Yeah, Todd. Well, he didn’t really want to be there, and he didn’t put in any effort at all.”

Kind of like Lee didn’t want to be there, and it was never going to work if he didn’t.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ll bet they’d let you do an extra challenge to stay in. You know, like extra credit.”

“Why’d you buzz your hair, anyway?” she asked. “Youdon’t have any demerits.”

“What can I say? Cal’s usually right.” His gaze shifted to her right, his posture stiffening a little. “Your friends…you said one’s a redhead and the other has blond hair, right? Both curlies like you?”

“Their hair is curlier, but yeah, that’s them.” She swiveled to look, and sure enough, Maisie was flashing her membership card at the host stand.

“The odds against that are pretty high, you know,” Harry muttered. “Since you didn’t meet in some kind of curl support group, or whatever.”

“Curl support group?” she asked, but then Adalia and Maisie were approaching their table, and she stood to greet them. Harry darted a nervous look at them and then did the same.

From his expression, he’d just realized his choice of seats would require him to sit next to a stranger. She repressed the urge to say,Deep breaths, Harry.He might need the prompt, but she didn’t want to embarrass him around strangers.

She’d already done that with Lee. Sure, he’d reacted with anger rather than embarrassment, but she knew what had generated it.

“So this must be the infamous Harry,” Maisie said.

The widening of his eyes suggested he was worried about what she might have told them, but Adalia stepped in with, “Blue has been a steel vault about you guys and the club, Harry, so I hope you’re a talkative drunk. I want to know everything.”

She grabbed the chair next to him—he always selected the outside one for maximum escapability, as he put it—and sat down, giving him a wide grin.

Maisie took the chair next to Blue.

Thankfully, Harry wasnota talkative drunk. Hence her decision to bring him tonight.

Except apparently she was wrong. While she nursed one drink—she knew she was a lightweight and always planned for it—Harry threw back drink after drink, piling up the keys the server kept bringing over with their orders. The bar had old-timey snack lockers on one side of the room, accessed by the keys that came with every drink purchase, but Harry loudly declared that he didn’t trust food that had been sitting in a locker for God knew how long, and anyway, those keys were probably covered in germs because men never washed their hands in the bathroom.

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