Page 19 of Unmistakably Us

Being unprepared for this revelation was an understatement. She knew outdoor play was a bad idea, but God, his tongue. There was a little part of her that took satisfaction in the fact that someone had heard them and that it was Platinum. There was a touch of possessiveness she harbored over Logan. He is not mine to keep. I need to get over it. And Platinum might be the ticket.

“Okay, yes. He is hung like a horse, and yes, he knows how to use it.” Before she lost her nerve to keep Platinum’s interest in Logan, she kept going. “And for the record, what you heard? That was just his tongue.” She wiggled her eyebrows to add to the casual air she was creating about what happened.

Platinum was fanning herself and raining “good Lords” into the bass sounds of the dressing room.

Not that it was the best idea, but January was just forming it. She could enjoy Logan a bit more before her life all but ended, then set Platinum on him. Once he touched her, she’d be done with him and problem solved. She was proud of herself for her quick and effective plan. Then she remembered sneaking out and his answering absence. It might already be over, and she wouldn’t have a problem.

“You should give him a ride, after I’ve had my fill, of course.” January damn near threw up in her mouth uttering the words, and that was the exact reason they needed to be said.

Before Platinum could accept or decline her offer, January threw her backpack on her back and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.” Platinum had yet to recover from her parting words to say bye. Good, that means she is thinking about it.

She bumped into Ariel as soon as she opened the door. “Umph. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Ariel said as she skirted around her to take her place at the mirror. “Cute top, by the way.”

January looked down to see what she was wearing. Apparently, Logan was occupying every single brain cell and she couldn’t even remember what the hell she just put on five minutes ago. It read, “STILL KINDA PISSED ABOUT NOT BEING A MERMAID.” Of course, the redhead whose persona was Ariel, for crying out loud, would like my top.

January liked her well enough, so on impulse, she dropped her backpack, removed her shirt, and tossed it at the stunned dancer. “It’s yours. It suits you.” Ariel wasn’t like the rest of the dancers there. Most, like January, had reasons other than survival for dancing. Daddy issues, fun, rebellion, you name it. They were as varied as the dancers themselves, but for Ariel, it was nothing as trivial as that.

She had two kids by a biker turned inmate. He was one of the good guys in a bad news MC, and when shit came down, they rolled it all to him. Ariel’s version painted him as a fairly upstanding guy who had his club change around him when his prez was forced out because of his unwillingness to handle drugs.

The club offered her all the help she could want, but she knew the strings attached would bind them even tighter to the MC. She came this way to drop off their radar and raise her kids as best she could. She stripped for them, so she couldn’t afford cute tops for herself.

While January dug for another top in her bag, Ariel gushed. “Oh, my God, seriously?” No sooner had she pulled another tee over her head and Ariel was squeezing the life out of her.

January didn’t realize how much such a simple gesture would mean to the other woman, but in hindsight, it made sense, so in a rare occurrence, January returned the embrace. Not out of obligation, but because she wanted to.

“No one has ever given me something without strings, and no other woman has ever liked me enough. Thank you so much. You’re good people, January. You have a beautiful soul. Don’t let this world steal that from you.”

“You’re welcome, hon. You deserve some things for yourself occasionally, even if it’s not new.”

When Ariel pulled away, she was wiping her eyes and Platinum spoke up, breaking the emotion-laden atmosphere. “If you’re in a giving mood, I’ll take that one. It’s so me.” For the second time in a matter of minutes, January had to look down to see.

“ONE CLASSY BITCH” her shirt read this time. “Dream on, chicky. I make it a point to have one moment of generosity each year, and that was it. Try again next year.” January donned her backpack again, gave a little wave to the girls, and headed into the club corridor.

Curiosity changed her path from the back door to the side so she could peek into the smoky main room, looking for Logan.

No luck, still a no show. I guess I have my answer as to if he was broken up over my leaving last night.

She opened the side door, letting the salt air wash over her and soothe her aching…anything but heart. No way her heart hurt. I can’t like him. I just can’t.

She threw her leg over Demon and fired him up. His rumble quieted her soul more than the salt air. She could live without the beach if she had to, but freedom? That was going to kill the essence of who she was, and Demon was freedom to her.

When she turned to reach for her helmet on the sissy bar, she realized it wasn’t there. “Fuck, I left it.” She didn’t bother to shut down her bike and take the key. Who was going to take it in the two seconds she was gone, anyway? She pulled her leg off and headed back inside. She made it through the hallway to the back when Ariel almost ran into her again.

This time, she was wielding her helmet. “Oh, thank goodness, here, you left it. Obviously, you know that already. I was terrified thinking you might just ride home without it.”

January took the helmet from her—she guessed actual—friend. “Thanks, but never fear, I am not in any hurry to taste the pavement and do my impression of a cucumber for life. I always wear it. Thanks for caring, though.” Again, they embraced until the strains of an electric keyboard interrupted them.

“That’s my cue, gotta run.”

Back outside, January went to toss her leg over her bike and realized it wasn’t running and the keys were gone. She placed the helmet on the sissy bar, stealthily removed her backpack, and noiselessly set it on the rock lot.

Her head on a swivel, she started to slowly walk toward the back door. She chose the back, thinking that whoever it was might be expecting her to use the side door again or even the front. Of all nights to not park on the walk by the door. Plus, she snuck out on Ruger. Now she was alone in an empty lot with someone who had her keys.

A jingle from behind had her executing a frightened leaping turn. A shadowy figure leaned against the corner of the building by the dumpster. It looked like he was twirling her keys on his finger. Her body recognized the outline before she did because wetness pooled between her legs.

With a few rapid clicks of his tongue, he pushed off the wall and started to approach her, but he was still bathed in shadows. “I’m starting to think you’re a professional runner, Little Rabbit.”

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