Stripped Down (Tap That)

That made him laugh. “Go for it.”

“So you’re saying at sleepovers you always chose Dare over Truth?”

“Guys don’t have sleepovers. But I would have a sleepover at your house. You could dare me to do anything and I would.” He smirked at her.

She slapped his arm for the second time. “You’re ridiculous.”

Turned on. That’s what he was.

But he’d waited twelve years for a night with Sloane. He could wait until Sullivan had calmed the hell down. And Sloane was ready to understand he was very serious about a slumber party for two involving him, her, and every sexual fantasy she’d ever had.

Three

Sloane blamed the shots.

It was the only reason she could think of to explain how she wound up on stage with Rick and the other guys dancing among their bare chests and grinding hips.

They were her old friends. Buddies. It was no big deal. Not sexual at all.

And God, it was fun. She had a buzz, but she wasn’t loaded and it felt so damn good just to dance and to laugh and to let go.

When was the last time she had let go?

It was a total relief to just move her hips to the pulsing pop music and not worry about anything.

She hadn’t intended to drink anymore but Brandon had egged her on. Besides, she never did this. Tom hadn’t liked to go out to clubs or bars and she only occasionally had a glass of wine. Being here, at Tap That, where she’d spent hours and hours as a kid when her father was the sole owner, was like coming home to a place where she was more confident. On surer footing.

It was tantalizing.

A glance over to the bar showed her father was actually grinning in approval. He had given her a shot willingly and had kissed her cheek and said he was glad she was having fun on her birthday. He’d been worried about her, that was obvious. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was give her father more to worry about. She knew he was stressed out about Sullivan. And her, because she had said very little about the end of her marriage other than insist she was fine. Her dad was too young to have such a weariness on his face. The man wasn’t even fifty yet and he had the weight of the world on him.

But, thanks to old friends, encouragement from Rick, and a little tequila, Sloane was having a great time. She genuinely was.

Jesse took her hand and spun her around. Given how uncoordinated he was, they ended up colliding into each other and Sloane laughed.

The only person who didn’t seem to be amused with the evening was Sullivan. He was standing next to Lilly, arms crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. He kept sipping off a glass of whisky, though Sloane couldn’t gauge how much he’d consumed over the night. He didn’t appear drunk, but he didn’t appear even remotely pleased by anything that was happening.

In their youth, Sullivan had always been a jovial guy, full of practical jokes and annoying brotherly traits. Stubborn, yes. Bossy, too, espe

cially given he was younger. But not sour. This was new. Since he’d lost Kendra. It was like he’d forgotten how to have fun. Understandable that he might be quiet, but not so… cold.

He didn’t even react when Lilly lifted her mic and turned it on to give a hearty, “Happy Birthday to a Tap That family member, Sloane O’Toole! Enjoy your big 3-0, beautiful!”

Sloane blew Lilly a kiss and mouthed “thank you” to her.

She realized that if she had stayed in Minneapolis it wouldn’t have gone down this way. She didn’t have a lot of close friends in the city, having spent more of her time with animals at the shelter she volunteered at than humans. Most of their circle of friends had been Tom’s age, at least ten years older, with kids. She hadn’t bonded with a whole lot of those women and her only real friend had been her next-door neighbor.

This was not what she would consider an ideal birthday, but the amusing reality was that aside from Becca and Emily, Little Dickie was the bright spot. He was the same as he’d been in school in that he was nice, attentive, easy-going. But unlike then Rick was not sheepish now. He was fully in control and a mischievous, wicked flirt. He was dancing behind her and Sloane almost jumped out of her skin when he pinched her at her waist, just high enough as to not be dirty, but still intimately. She turned and opened her eyes wide in question.

“What are you doing?” she yelled over the music.

“A pinch to grow an inch,” he said.

“I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m almost six feet tall.”

Rick’s eyebrows rose. “Six feet of sexy.”

Sloane rolled her eyes, even as she felt a spark deep inside her inner thighs. “I can’t believe those lines work for you.”