Page 9 of Lustful Nights

“He could be. Especially if your brother is his best friend. Or he could think you’re sexy as fuck and has been coming to watch you.”

I shake my head, laughing hard. “Hell no. I know it’s not that.” Even though that would be my wildest dream come true. But, of course, Jensen will never see me that way, no matter how much I wish for it to happen.

He rests his arms on the counter, leaning closer to me. “I’m just saying. Why else would he be here three times this week? Makes sense to me.”

“Nah, that’s not it.” Someone waves from down the bar, trying to get Preston’s attention. “But hey, I’ll catch ya later.”

I hop off my stool, ducking in and out of the crowds of people watching Tristan onstage. Right before I get to the back, I pause to see how his performance is going. He’s dressed in all white,the perfect picture of purity—even though we all know he’s far from it. But the men go wild once ‘Angel’ gets on the stage. The crowd gets loud as his song wraps up and I use that as my cue to go to the dressing rooms.

“How’s Tristan doing?” Declan asks as I plop down in the chair next to him.

I grab the wipes off my table and use them to clean up my face. No one wants to see smeared makeup when I return to the spotlight. “He seems to be doing good. The crowd is really eating up his new act. I kinda wish I would have thought of it first. They are all going crazy. But guess who was here?”

Declan turns around toward me, a quizzical look on his face. “Who?”

“Jensen. It’s the?—”

“Wait, wait.” He cuts me off, his eyes getting wide. “Nick’s Jensen? Fucking hot as hell, thick-as-fuck beard with those bulging muscles. That god of a man was here? And I missed him. Why the fuck? Hold up, Jensen likes men? Dammit, if I knew that, then I would have tried to hook up with him years ago. The things I bet he can do. Imagine the delicious beard burn he would give.” An unexpected growl leaves my lips, and Declan snickers softly. “Or not. I knew you had a crush on him, didn’t realize you still had one.”

“Oh, my god.” With two of my fingers, I rub the space beside my eyes. “Whatever. I don’t have a crush. At least not anymore. But anyway, it’s annoying as hell. He found out I worked here and now he’s come multiple times to check up on me.”

“How did he find out you worked here?”

“I don’t know, actually. All I know is he said he saw me here one night, and he came after to check up on me. But now it’s getting so fucking irritating. I told him not to tell Nick, but now he’s being so damn overbearing, I rather he just hurry up and tattle already.”

“I don’t know Lennox. That doesn’t make any sense to me. I get coming and checking on you once. But more than that? Nah, there has to be more going on. Are you sure he’s here to watch you? I mean, you said it yourself that he saw you here one night, which means he came here that first night on his own. Maybe he’s here to check out one of the other dancers?”

My mind creates a list of all the workers I know that work here. My body deflates at the thought of Jensen being here to see someone else. “That actually makes sense,” I mutter, an instant sadness washing over me. “That’s probably why he keeps dipping out so quickly.”

“I wonder who he’s here to see. Obviously, it’s not me, even though I wish it was.” I gently push at his shoulder, laughing when he squeals out, “Kidding!”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll never know.” My eyes drift up to the clock in the corner and I jump up. “Shit, I have to change. I’m on in ten minutes.”

“Make sure to shake your ass!” Declan yells as he walks out of the dressing room.

I turn off the ignition to my car, sitting back against the seat. Tonight is Nick’s birthday, and he’s throwing himself a huge party at his house. Turning thirty is a big deal, so Declan and I are here early to help set up and decorate. My eyes scan his driveway, a flutter appearing in my stomach when I see Jensen’s motorcycle parked up at the front. I guess we’re not the only ones who are here to help prepare.

Declan and I step up to the front door and I use my key to let myself in. The overwhelming scent ofPine Soland lemon hits my face, and I wrinkle my nose. “I think you’ve usedenough cleaning products,” I shout, as I kick off my shoes at the doorway.

Nick walks out of the kitchen, yellow rubber gloves on his hands. “I haven’t deep cleaned in a while, figured now would be the perfect time to get it done.”

“Ah.” I smile, shoving by him to place my bags on the counter. “That means a special girl is going to be coming to your party.”

“What? No. I just want a clean house.”

“Lies. The only time you want to tidy your place this thoroughly is when you want to impress a girl and try to show you’re not a messy pig.”

“He’s not wrong.” Jensen cuts in, popping up from somewhere in the house. “You invited Amber, which means you’re trying to impress her.”

I whip around, taking in Jensen standing in front of me. I haven’t seen him since the night at Peaches a week ago. Either he’s come in when I’m off or he hasn’t been there at all. He’s wearing dark jeans with a tight black tee, the sleeves clinging tightly to his bulging biceps. I can’t help but stare as he scratches his beard with one hand, his arms covered in interlocking tattoos. He looks at me before darting his eyes away.

“Well, let’s make sure the house is enough for Amber,” I tease, pulling out different items from my bag. “You two can keep cleaning while Declan and I decorate everything. Now, where’s the speaker? I need some music to listen to.”

Nick disappears down the hallway before returning with his portable speaker. I set up my phone, then hit play on my ’90s R&B playlist. Nothing can make me more focused than listening to music from the ’90s. The four of us spend the next hour cleaning and getting the house ready for the party. Declan is blowing up the balloons and I’m doing the tablecloths when Jensen steps over to us.

“This place looks really great,” his deep voice rumbles, goosebumps raising on my arms from how close he is.

“Thanks. You, of all people, know how much Nick loves to go all out for his birthday.” I turn around, lifting my head up to look at him. He has a few inches on me. I’m five-foot-six, so he has to be at least six-one or maybe six-two. “Haven’t seen you at Peaches lately. Did you get tired of checking up on me?”

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