Even Better (Stripped 2.50)

I roll my eyes. “We’re not trying yet. Not exactly. He wants to wait until we’re married.”

Candy’s eyes narrow. We have jokingly called her the Man Whisperer because of her uncanny ability to know what they like—and subsequently coax them out of their money. But the truth is she is just a People Whisperer, man or woman, and she’s turning all her ability on me.

“When will that be?” she asks, her face the picture of innocence.

“Soon.”

“Of course,” she says, her voice singsong again.

“Oh for God’s sake, stop saying that. I am totally going to marry him. And we’re going to have a baby. And maybe a fence, though I’m not sure how that’s going to work in a condo. It’s just…”

“It’s just that you’re afraid,” she says softly.

I shut my eyes tight, against her words, against the truth. Against the sight of the Grand, the place I was desperate to escape, the place I now miss. “I’m afraid that he’s suddenly going to realize what I am, that I’m a stripper, and what is he doing marrying me?”

“You’re not a stripper anymore.”

“I’m not anything at all. The only thing I knew how to do was dance.” I can’t help the bitterness that creeps into my voice. I don’t mind what happened last night, as much as I mind that it’s all I’m good for. “And turn men on.”

Her hand covers mine on the shiny bar top. “You do a lot more than that. Those hot military guys walk around with all their confidence and their swagger, but inside they’re hurting. You help soothe them. It’s a lot more than just their bodies. It’s nothing they could find within these walls, that’s for sure.”

I hang my head, hoping that’s true. Hoping I provide some measure of comfort for them. Would that be enough, being a source of peace for other men? Being a balm? In some ways it’s all I’ve ever aspired to be, to take care of others—Mrs. Owens and the girls at the club. And Blue.

And now West. He gives me a little wave from across the room.

I’m blushing when I wave back. Because if I take care of West the same way I take care of Blue…our evenings are going to get a lot more interesting.

Candy laughs, and I don’t really mind.

She’s right—there isn’t enough smiling around here.

I sigh. “Sometimes I miss working here. Is that crazy?”

She gets this secret look on her face, half smug, half mystery. “Maybe one day you’ll come back.”

Chapter Seven

The first thing I see is the moon, framed by the windowpane and open curtain. Luminous gray casts the rest of the room in shadows, and I have to orient myself by touch alone. The cool cotton of the sheets and the warm weight of Blue’s arm.

I don’t know what woke me up, but I lie very still. Even after all these years, there’s a part of me afraid of who might walk into my room. I lived in foster home after foster home, with random men and “brothers” who might visit me at night.

My breathing speeds up, and Blue’s arm tightens around me.

Even without waking, he’s attune to me, guarding me. I’m safe with him, and bit by bit I relax into his embrace. I still don’t know what woke me, but I know no one can touch me while he’s around.

Then I hear it—a low keening sound. It doesn’t sound like it’s from a machine. It doesn’t quite seem human either. The hair on the back of my neck raises.

“Blue,” I whisper.

Alertness enters his body quickly, smoothly, the sleep draining right away. “What’s wrong?”

I start to answer—I don’t know. I’m scared. But then the sound comes again, almost too low to notice. I can sense it more than I can hear it, and it makes my body clench tight. Blue is up and out of the bed in an instant, already leaving me behind.

“Stay put,” he warns before slipping out the door.

I hold my breath and clutch the sheets, waiting. God, what could have made that sound? It was almost like a wounded animal, but on the twelfth floor in a glass-walled condo, that isn’t likely.

Blue can take care of himself, I remind myself when the silence threatens to choke me.