Page 10 of Dragon in Boots

“Oh really? He tell you that?”

“Maybe,” Dash said coldly.

“Okay, well, I speak kitten, too, and he just told me he wants a safe, warm home that won’t make him deaf.”

Dash chuckled. “Pfft. Like most women, you know nothing.”

Wow. Woooow…“Says a man who takes his pants off in a club that pumps vaporized roofies in the air so the audience empties their wallets.”

His plump lips crawled into a slow snarl, and he leaned in close, bowing his tall frame over the bar. “Careful, or you’ll end up vaporized, too. Now give me some water.” He looked at the cat. “He’ll have a shot of Fireball.”

Hell no would she give alcohol to a kitten. It would kill him. Obviously, the guy had to be testing her.Like a fat dick.

Suddenly, an image of a large, plump penis, belonging to a particular male stripper wearing a black Speedo, flashed in her mind.Crap. Did I just think about the chubby roll in Dash’s pants?

No. Not going there. I do not, nor will I ever, want a man for his body.All she wanted was a man who stood up like one. For her. For himself. For her fur babies, scaly babies, and feathered babies. Basically for anyone who needed standing up for.

She grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the hand-operated soda dispenser, and set it on the counter. She then poured a shot of flaming hot cinnamon whiskey and threw it back with a smile.

“Now fuck off,” she said. “And if I see that kitten anywhere near a speaker again, I’ll call animal control. Got it?”

He was about to open his mouth and dish what would surely be a word salad containing crunchy sprinkles made of pompous hyperbole, but Heebie jumped onto her shoulder and began purring against the side of her head.

That cat really liked her. “See. The cat agrees.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Dash’s plump lips flattened into a hard line. “You’re lucky my kitty likes you.”

“That makes one of us.” Her kitty was hissing big time.

“Don’t push it, bar wench. Now hand me my cat.”

Wench?Did he think medieval slang would send her cowering? She lived with wild beasts—lions and tigers and bears.Oh yes.Lizards and poisonous snakes and a boar.Give me more.

“Think you scare me?” She laughed. “I bet you’ve never been attacked by an alligator.” Of course, Herman had no teeth, but it still hurt like a son of a gum.

Dash was about to speak, but then he looked at the cat like he expected it to say something.

“Well?” she prodded.

Dash snapped his mouth shut and strutted away.

“That’s right. You keep on walking, stud muffin!” she bellowed. “It’s all you’re good for, anyway.” She blew out a breath and hugged Heebie to her chest. “You’re coming home with me tonight. This is no place for us decent animals.”

The second show of the evening began like the first, only this crowd came in pre-lit and much thirstier than the first, so Jac had been too occupied with drink orders to pay attention to the strippers until the final act.

Like earlier, Dash strutted onstage bare chested, and the crowd went crazy over his tool belt and…eh-hem, tool, but this time, she didn’t feel a thing. Not one twitch of the hand urging her to remove her shirt. Not one bead of sweat. Not one dizzy spell.

Maybe Peepers skipped the roofie aerosol?

Then Dash’s jeans came off, and the audience ignited like a stick of dynamite. Money flew through the air, and the sexual energy turned electric. Meanwhile, Jac still felt nothing. Nada. Zilch.

So maybe the effect Dash had on the audience was psychological. It was the only explanation.

Jac went back to preparing drinks, only to look up for the finale of Dash’s performance when he sauntered to the end of the catwalk and snapped his fingers.

No kitten.

Confused, Dash glanced over his shoulder, finding the stage behind him empty.

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