Page 18 of Pinkie Promise

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Yeah, me too. ID?”

I hand her my ID and she looks as though she can’t believe her eyes. She shakes her head and hands it back to me, settling a hand on one of her hips and leaning back against the pool table.

“You’re a dancer?”

“Cheerleader.”

“Are you sure you wanna show your skills here?”

I look around the warm room and see that eyes are already on us. I blush slightly and Don’t Ask says a prayer under her breath.

“Ever ride a bull?” she asks.

“Er…”

“Or pour a drink?”

“Well–”

“Everhada drink?” she continues, her eyes wide with concern.

“Ijustreallyneedthemoney,” I say quickly, hoping that that will be explanation enough for her to stop the inquisition and give me a tray.

She looks at me for a long moment before nodding and turning on her heel. We walk to a door that belongs in a high-security prison and she punches in the code. Then we both go inside and she settles down in a chair.

She pulls on a pair of sexy cat-eye glasses and rummages through a desk full of paperwork. When she finally finds a blank contract sheet she hooks a pen around the top and passes the document over to me.

“You can read through this out there. Sign it if you think you can cope with the attention.”

“I can cope with–”

“Withthiskind of attention, Ford. You know what I’m saying.” Before I leave she adds on, “It’s in the paperwork but working here requires a strong stomach. You’ll be dancing to drunk guys, and they aren’t always cuties. You’ll be riding the bull. You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“Why would that be–?”

“Because boyfriends don’t like other men going after their girlfriends. Any guy-trouble and you’re gone. That rule is hard and fast.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Your bar seems… really nice.”

She pulls her glasses off and cocks an eyebrow at me. “You really don’t have to do this. I’m sure that there are more” – she gestures vaguely at my cardigan – “youjobs out there.”

I take off the cardigan and her eyebrows rise a little higher.

That’s what I thought.

I’ve been wearing cheerleading outfits since I was back in high school – I know how to pull off a mini-skirt and a crop top.

“I did not peg you for the double-denim type,” she says, a little impressed.

I almost smile. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Chapter 6

Hunter

This is bad. This is realbad.

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