Page 37 of The Winslow Brothers

Katelynn and the rest of our group join in on her toast, and I’m tempted to flip Belle the middle finger. But I shake off my annoyance and try to remember the fact that my sister looks relaxed and happy—playing me for the night—and that’s the whole intention of this party.

To make sure my twin has a good time.

Even if it means I have to spend the next sixty minutes playing grab-ass with one of Club Craze’s male exotic dancers.

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Jude,” our female hostess announces and opens the door to reveal a man dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt with sleeves folded to his forearms.

He’s tall, and the muscular lines of his body can’t be missed beneath his clothes.

With light brownish-blond hair and a little scruff on his chin, this guy reminds me of a young Brad Pitt. I’m talking sexy Fight-Club Brad Pitt mixed with Ocean’s-Eleven Brad Pitt to create some kind of insanely attractive superhuman.

“Good evening, ladies.” He flashes a sexy smirk that slides through the room and ultimately lands on my wide eyes. “As Kelsie said, I’m Jude, and I’ll be taking over to make sure you have a good time.”

I swear, those eyes of his are as blue as the freaking ocean, and their depths are downright hypnotic. It’s like I can’t look away even if I wanted to.

Holy hell.

Self-preservation in the form of distraction speeds up in my head, and somewhere in the whirling thoughts, a bell of recognition rings. I pull myself out of the insane trance of his eyes to focus on an inconsistency. “I thought Maverick was supposed to…” I start, only to pause when I realize my faux pas. I definitely shouldn’t be the one asking this question since, technically, I’m Belle for the night and every step of the itinerary has been a surprise for her, but luckily, no one picks up on the mistake. They’re all too busy staring atJude.

“Unfortunately, Maverick realized he wasn’t man enough to handle this party of beautiful women, so I went ahead and stepped up to the plate.” Jude winks, and I throw up in my mouth a little.By God, the cheesiness of that line knows no bounds.

Our hostess snorts and nudges him in the side with her elbow, but he just laughs it off and moves his gaze back to me.

“I take it you’re the gorgeous bride-to-be?” he inquires with a little rasp in his voice.

I swallow thickly, trying to find the words in my dry mouth like an animal searches for water in the desert. It only takes a few moments to give up, however, because despite my debut as a mime, he’s striding right toward me. Each step is calculated and with purpose, and a shiver threatens to slip up my spine.

“She sure is!” Tonya shouts at the top of her lungs. “That’s our girl Belle!”

Kirsten and Laura pretend to fan themselves. Katelynn laughs. Belle stares at me over the top of a glass of champagne with wide, amused eyes.

With one long hand stretched out toward me and veins making themselves known on his forearms, Jude grips the fabric of the sash around my chest and smirks down at me.

“You ready to have some fun?”

Oh boy. Now that line or move isn’t cheesy. At all.

I nod. Gulp. Nod again. “Uh-huh.”

And then, he leans in closer to me, whispering directly into my ear, “Buckle up, gorgeous, because I’m going to make sure you have a good fucking time.”

Oh, mamma mia. What in the Weird Al Yankovic has Belle gotten me into?

Jude

Right on cue, Kelsie hits play on the music I selected about thirty minutes ago for tonight’s role asJude, the exotic dancer. After listening in on Maverick’s “instruction time” about how to become an exotic dancer in thirty seconds or less, she insisted on being the one to host, just so she could get a load of what I looked like on the other side of the coin—like a fucking episode ofUndercover Boss. I’m not sure why I agreed, but if I’m honest, I’m not exactly ready to teach classes on the reasoning that led to accepting this little bet in the first place.

I do my best to ignore the employee voyeur, but when she doesn’t exit immediately, I pull back from the bride, do a spin, and hit Kelsie with a roll of my eyes that suggests she’d better scoot if she wants to live to see another paycheck.

Finally, Kelsie steps out, a panicked yet elated smile painted on her lips making me purse my own. I take a full deep breath for the first time to settle into my role of uninhibited dancer Jude. Maverick told me I needed to come up with a “stage name,” but there was no way in hell I was going to have these women calling me Fabio or some shit and getting confused every time they screamed. They can call me Jude, just like the women I take to my bed, thank you very fucking much.

The first song on my list is by the one and only Pretty Ricky, and when the opening beats of “Grind with Me” start to echo inside the private room, I smirk to myself. Frankly, if I weren’t so focused on making sure I beat Maverick at his own game, I might even laugh out loud over this. I mean, when I headed into work tonight, playing stripper for the evening didn’t even cross my mind.

Hell, if my three brothers knew what I was up to right now, they’d be begging these women to record it so they could razz my ass for the next fifty years. Also, I’m pretty sure Ty would keep it on hand for future blackmail purposes.

Normally, I spend my weekends schmoozing the VIPs at whatever club my company is currently promoting, not engaging in the customer experience. But I’m no stranger to a wager, and to be frank, resisting them is kind of my weak point. The thrill, the excitement, the bragging rights that come with besting a challenge—they’re better than any drug.

I’malwaysup for a contest. And by tomorrow, Mav is going to have to cough up the dough when he realizes I can pull more tips than him in a night by a long shot.

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