Page 35 of The Winslow Brothers

Once we reach the end, it opens into a big, wide-open space that’s packed to the brim with clubgoers, and a pretty blond woman dressed in formfitting, all-black attire greets us with a grin.

So I can hear her over the pandemonium, I shove my way to the front of our boisterous group and lean in toward her as she speaks. “If you ladies will follow me, I’ll lead you to your private VIP room.”

Evidently, she’s already been updated by the bouncers of our arrival, and I wave a hand back at the group to follow her lead. Carefully counting off ladies and sending them ahead of me to make sure we all stay together, I make it through all but one when something grabs the back of my coat and drags me in the opposite direction.

“What the—?” I shriek in the pitch of a dying cat. It doesn’t matter, though, because the atmosphere in this place is so dang loud, I don’t think the women of my party would have realized if a bomb went off behind them.

My steps stutter and stammer as I fight to keep myself upright, the scent of my sister’s perfume on my attacker the only thing that keeps me calm.

Before I know it, Belle’s yanking me into the closest women’s restroom. The instant the door shuts behind us, she up and locks the damn thing so no one else can get in.

“Soph, I can’t do it,” she whispers harshly into my ear before backing away toward the sinks and mirrors.

“What are you talking about?”

She’s already shaking her head. “I can’t do it.”

“You can’t do what?”

“I know I said I wanted the whole shebang for my bachelorette party, but I’m done.”

I jerk my head back in surprise. “What do you mean,you’re done?”

“I mean I’m done! I can’t let some greased-up stripper dance up on me in front of everyone!”

I blink several times, open and close my mouth like a fish, raise a finger to speak, and then drop it again.What in the ever-loving hell?

“Sophie,” she says and grabs both of my shoulders. “I’m not joking around. If I have to go sit in that private VIP room while all my friends watch some dude rub his dick on my legs, I’ll freaking shit myself. Or have a heart attack. Or a brain aneurysm. Or—”

“Belle,” I cut her off before she pushes herself into a panic attack. “Take a breath. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” she repeats with stretched-out, crazy eyes. “I can’t calm down! Soon, everyone in that stupid VIP room you rented will be watching me get dry humped by a stripper. I don’t want to be a human pillow or sock or come rag or whatever. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“I’m pretty sure the politically correct term isexotic dancer, and it’s not like he’s going to jizz in your belly button. That’s what backstage is for.”

“Sophie, now isnotthe time to be a smartass.”

I snort. “Listen, I don’t want to be a bitch right now, but I feel it’s important that I remind you thatyousaid youwantedthis. I remember it distinctly, actually.” I change the pitch of my voice to mock her and continue, repeating her own words back to her.“I just want to get crazy, Sophie. Live it up! This is my last hurrah!”

“I know!” She tosses both of her hands up in the air. “I know. I thought I did. But I don’t. I just want to go home and let John rub my feet.”

“Belle.”A shocked laugh pops from my lungs. “Honey, we can’t go home right now. Everyone came out tonight to celebrate with you, and our limo driver won’t be here for another three hours. Plus, I’m pretty sure Tonya will throw a temper tantrum if she doesn’t get to utilize all those dollar bills she brought with her tonight. You saw them in the limo. She has three hundred of them stuffed into the cavern between her boobs.”

Belle huffs out a sigh and runs a hand through her dark hair. She’s agitated. Nervous. But she’s also starting to consider what I’m explaining. At least, Ithinkshe is.

“You have nothing to be freaked out about. For one, you look gorgeous,” I say and turn her around by the shoulders, so she sees her reflection in the mirror. “And two, no one is judging you. Everyone here just wants you to have fun. That’s it. And it’s not like I paid the exotic dancer to give you a happy ending with his penis. Only dancing, I swear,” I tease, trying to swing heremotions all the way back to where they started, but she doesn’t even offer a smile.

Out of the two of us, my sister is the introvert, and I’m more of the extrovert. It’s probably why I’m in the business of event planning and she’s in the business of scouting out models to attend the events. She’s never been fond of being the center of attention, always preferring to be a fly on the wall rather than the focus in the middle of the room. That’s not to say she’s not outspoken with people she’s comfortable with—with Katelynn and her fiancé John and me, she’s a brutal bringer of truth—but with friends and a complete stranger involved? Forget it.

Even growing up, I can’t tell you how many times I ended up doing her oral presentations in class because the teachers could never tell us apart and Belle’s social fears were too much for her to stomach.

It’s the number one reason why I asked her over and over again if she wassureshe wanted this kind of bachelorette party—you know, one that included her being the center of attention in front of a crowd of people, one that took us to several New York hot spots throughout the night, and one that ends with her getting jiggy with a sexy, exotic Club Craze dancer.

And while Belleassuredme numerous times that she did want this, I probably should’ve anticipated the night would lead us here anyway. I’ve known her my whole damn life, obviously, and this fits her MO a whole lot more than her telling meI just want to get crazydid.

Honestly, at a time like this, I’m most thankful that she and John decided to keep their wedding small and intimate. A freak-outduring your bachelorette party is one thing, but on your wedding day? Talk aboutno bueno.

I meet her emerald eyes in the reflection in the mirror, but when she tilts her head to the side and starts tapping her chin in a familiar way I’ve seen a thousand times, I furrow my brow.

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