Page 10 of Back in Black

“I’ve never been in a bar.”

Unbelievable. He missed a few beats there before asking, “Never?” When she shook her head, he asked, “Why not?”

A preoccupied couple stumbled out, and it was obvious the woman was tipsy. Her date held her up, laughing with her, nuzzling her neck while she tried to stroke him.

Audrey looked aghast. She stared so hard at the couple that Brett caught her chin and brought her attention back to him.

“They must have been celebrating.” He smiled.

“Oh.” She turned to get one last look at the couple before they stepped outside. “A little too much celebrating if you ask me.”

Brett preferred not to judge. Over the years, too many people had drawn conclusions about him, and found him guilty by association. He hadn’t liked it, so he tried not to do it.

Besides, to him, Audrey looked more fascinated than repulsed. Had she lived such a sheltered life that she’d missed out on some fun?

He planned to find out. “You don’t visit bars because . . . ?” he prompted.

Again flustered, she frowned and said, “I don’t drink.”

Nice. Brett had few aversions regarding women, but smoking, too much drinking, and cruelty of any kind were dead turnoffs for him. “Me, either.”

His admission surprised her. “But . . . then what are you doing here?”

“There are other things to do at a bar besides get hammered, especially at this bar, which is more like a club, ya know?”

Suspicion inched her back a step. “What else do you do here?”

Laughing, Brett leaned down to her to say, “Little Audrey, it’s not a whorehouse, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nothing wicked going on, I promise.” He put an arm around her and got her moving again.

People jostled them, danced around them, and along the way Brett handed out the flyers. A few of the fighters he’d met gave him a funny look, but they accepted the paper when he held it out, especially after they peered around him to see Audrey.

Despite some misconceptions, most fighters were not dumb louts. Fighters in the SBC were more often astute than obtuse, and with one look at Audrey they surmised exactly why Brett was passing out her info.

By the time Brett got them to the other side of the room, he was out of flyers—which meant he now had both hands free. He tugged Audrey over to watch the antics on the mechanical bull for a while.

In no time, her eyes went wide with exhilaration and curiosity.

When one fellow got tossed hard, Brett felt Audrey’s gasp and gave her a short, quick hug. Bending close to her ear, he whispered, “He only hurt his pride.”

They shared a smile, and Brett said, “Come on.” He got her as far as the hallway, then she resisted going any farther.

“I should get back out front . . .”

Brett held her elbow in a light grasp. It was quieter here, but music from the band filtered in, overlain by the drone of laughter.

He glanced at his watch. “We have a few minutes yet. Let me show you around the rest of the bar.” When she balked, he added, “That way, if you stage a protest, you’ll already have the lay of the place.”

After biting her bottom lip, Audrey agreed.

He wouldn’t mind nibbling on that soft, plump lip, too—but it was too soon for that, so Brett showed her the billiards room instead. Next he let her peek in on the arcade, and he then took her to where they served food on the upper level.

In awe, Audrey walked to the railing and looked down on the crowded barroom floor.

“I had no idea the bar itself was so . . . huge.”

Leaning back against the rail, Brett watched her. Colored lights from below flickered over her face and in her eyes. She looked . . . mesmerized. And hot.

“Wanna come back with me sometime?”

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