Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I don’t want a performance, Emily.” His words echo in my head. Doubt slows my freakout spiral. Was he sincere?
This is why I had a don’t sleep with a guy until you’ve dated him for at least six months rule.
I don’t know a lot about Dixon Watts. The things I’ve learned are superficial—what toppings he likes on his pizza, motorcycles are more than a hobby, he’s a widower—okay, that one isn’t superficial.
But I thought I knew him. He’s a good man. Thoughtful, kind, amazing in bed. My intuition—not my lady bits—thinks he’s a good man, right? But doesn’t this change everything I thought I knew?
Let your intuition guide you, not your past trauma.
Desperately, I type in another search. And another. Maybe there is an actual nightclub with the same name?
Crystal Ball + Slater County.
Dance club + Crystal Ball.
Crystal Ball nightclub + Ironworks
Crystal Ball + New York.
Crystal Ball + Dance club.
No other clubs by that name.
Minutes from a zoning board meeting dated a few years ago pop up. Crystal Ball expanded and renovated the interior. Dex’s name isn’t listed anywhere. Just a law firm. The Lost Kings Motorcycle Club is briefly mentioned in the transcript as an “unsavory element” associated with Crystal Ball. But the board member who brought it up is shut down. By the end of the meeting, he votes to approve the renovations.
I’d looked up the MC when Serena was staying with me and don’t remember finding anything about a strip club. Then again, my only concern was that Grayson might send someone to hurt Serena. A concern that turned out to be silly. The man treats her as gently and reverently as finely spun glass.
At Serena’s baby shower, I’d gotten to know some of the other wives and girlfriends. Charlotte had even invited me to her wedding. None of them ever mentioned Crystal Ball, strippers, or anything else unsavory. They only had sweet and affectionate stories to share about their husbands.
This isn’t accomplishing a damn thing. I shut my laptop down and set it on the end table. I need to take a breath, then go talk to Dex like an adult, instead of making assumptions. That’s the rational thing to do. At least my brain says so.
My heart’s ragged and torn in two.
Crystal Ball was easy enough to find. It’s actually not far from my office. It’s in a part of Empire I rarely venture into. After work, I usually race to beat rush-hour traffic out of the city. Wandering around and checking out strip clubs is low on my priority list. I don’t have any friends or men in my life that visit such establishments, either.
Or at least I thought I didn’t.
Parking right in front of the building seems too obvious. Besides, what if someone recognizes my car and thinks this is my part-time job?
I circle around to the back parking lot. Several cars are parked in the last row and that’s where I tuck my car. It gives me a prime view of the back door. I scan the row of motorcycles lined up along the cinder block wall of the building. My search stops on Dex’s Harley. I let out a sigh. Part of me hoped I’d made a mistake.
Nothing about the plain building suggests tawdry things are happening inside.
It’s a strip club, Emily. Hundreds and hundreds of Yelp reviews confirmed it.
Keeping a watch on the door, I recline my seat. What’s my plan? Jump out and start firing off questions as soon as I see him? If I see him at all.
What if he’s with another woman?
Is this the kind of relationship I want to be in? One where I can’t trust the guy to go to his job?
“This is stupid,” I grumble.
But a few minutes later, I’m rewarded for my stalking efforts when Dex steps outside. Alone.
My stupid heart jumps at the sight of his large frame and serious expression.
Like I tumbled into a bad Lifetime movie, where the girl flips out and stalks the boyfriend who rejected her, I stare.
Why does his scowl make him even hotter? Maybe because around me he’s all relaxed smiles and sexy determination. Even from here, I notice the tension in his shoulders and jaw. The silly, smitten part of me wants to rub his back or do something to take the tension away.
My phone buzzes, scaring me out of my trance. I jump, banging my elbow into the door.
“Ow. Dammit.” I grab my phone and stare at the screen.
Dex: Thinking of you.
A sliver of the icy doubt around my heart melts. He stepped out of a club full of naked women to send me a text? Why is he thinking of me when he’s in the middle of a shift at every man’s dream job?
I need to talk to him. Not sit here and watch like a lovesick teenager. I’m too old to behave this way.