“How ya doin’, baby?” He shot her a sexy wink and it was all she could do to keep from groaning. Beck Stallard was the typical man-stud with a cocksure grin and million-dollar dimples.
“What kind of question is that?” Seth snapped.
“One I want Lindsey to answer.” Beck studied her with deep concern marring his brow. “I heard what happened. Can we do anything for you?”
“You’ve done enough,” she assured him, trying to steady her quivering voice. The last thing she wanted was a shoulder to cry on. On second thought, the last thing she needed was a shoulder to cry on and a man to cling to. She was very much aware of the Stallard brothers’ reputation. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay.”
“It’s our pleasure.” Beck grinned. “It’s the least we could do. We should’ve done a lot more.” He shot his brother a quick glance. “Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”
Seth grunted. “Beck, you could start by being a gentleman. Go put some clothes on. You’re making her blush and she’s shaking like a leaf.”
Jerking, Lindsey cursed her insecurities. Since when did she tremble at the sight of a man? Taking a deep breath, she hoped for some semblance of courage. “I’m sure it will all work out.” In spite of herself, she let her gaze travel, following his trunk-like neck down to well-shaped pecs and abs. Holding at his belt, she took a deep breath before she stole a glance of the tight package bulging in his worn jeans.
The man had it going on. No doubt existed there.
“Yes, it will all work out,” she whispered, perhaps referencing the men instead of her farm.
“They’re planning to auction your place off. How’s that gonna work out, Linds?” Seth asked.
“It just will,” she said quietly. Without faith, a woman had nothing. Without a man, she had to rely on herself. After a good night’s sleep, she would regroup.
Maybe a local bank would take over the loan. Perhaps Bob Callaway would magically reappear and Farmer’s Lending would honor the repayment proposal. Worst case scenario? Tom Leonard and his team of lawyers would drag this thing to court and she’d end up with a legal bill on top of farm debt, but she’d still have her home.
Beck’s narrowed eyes were almost slits. Rubbing his boxed, thick jaw, he sat on the bed. Turning to Lindsey, he asked, “Do you really think you can make enough money by stripping to pay off a farm debt?”
“Man, fuck.” Seth dragged his hand through his hair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m asking Lindsey a question,” Beck said, never averting his eyes.
“First, I never planned to strip and didn’t apply for a stripper’s job. Second, it was a lapse in judgment. I
made a terrible mistake by walking in that godforsaken club, but I didn’t go there for an exotic dancer’s job.”
“You didn’t?” Beck crossed his muscular, tan arms and studied her with fierce intensity. “Why were you in that ‘godforsaken’ club in the first place, Lindsey? It’s no place for a lady.”
She wished she could take it back. She’d possessed one fear when she’d gone there. She had been terrified that the Stallard brothers would find out what she’d done.
Apparently they’d known all along.
“Let me guess. You missed the green neon sign out front, the one that reads Live Strippers Tonight?”
“I was applying for the dead positions,” she said, never cracking a smile.
“What are those?” Seth laughed.
“I can’t wait to hear this.” Beck sniffed. “What do those positions entail, Lindsey?”
“They have barmaids. A friend who works there said that if I could learn to sling drinks that I’d stay so busy that I wouldn’t even have to socialize with the customers. According to her, the bartenders go unnoticed. They aren’t harassed like the dancers.”
“Have you ever heard of a bartender without a good personality?” Beck asked.
“I haven’t,” Seth replied.
“Guys who frequent the club aren’t there for the bartenders. They pay their cover charges for the strippers. They barely notice the gals behind the bar.”
“Oh I don’t know about all that,” Beck said, pointing at Seth. “He used to plant his ass at the bar every Saturday night. Bartender at the time was twice his age and wouldn’t hold a candle to you, but the fellas lined up for her. Every damn night she had a crowd in front of her and more offers than she could juggle.”
“I wasn’t interested in anything more than a job. From what I understand, bartenders earn almost as much as the strippers.”