The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men 7)

I’d never tried the brand before, and I wasn’t a fan of malt liquor, but I couldn’t go drinking a piña colada, and no way could I say no to him for some odd reason, so I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Remy?” Ten repeated with a frown as Asher strolled off. I jumped, surprised he’d appeared out of nowhere on the other side of the counter. Whirling to him, I dragged my stare from Asher’s perfect ass and into Ten’s hazel eyes. “Hmm? Sorry, what?”

He frowned at me, turned his attention to a departing Asher, and then came back to me. “He just called you Remy.”

“Yeah...” I said slowly. “Probably because that’s my name.”

Just as I said that, Jodi reached my side and slung her arm over my shoulder. “Hey, puta. What’d you order me?”

“Well, well, well,” Ten murmured knowingly. “If it isn’t Jodi.”

Jodi whirled to him, her gaze immediately heating with interest. “Oh! Hey, Ten,” she purred in her most seductive voice.

Unease stirred through my stomach, but fudge nuggets. If Jodi knew Ten, they’d probably slept together. Shit.

I motioned my finger between the two of them. “You two...know each other?”

As I silently begged them both to say no, Jodi licked her lips and skimmed her gaze down Ten’s tight black shirt. “Not as well as I would’ve liked to.”

Ten’s eyes narrowed slightly. “As well as you’re ever going to, you mean. I’m married now.”

Jodi’s smile spread slowly. “Hey, that’s fine. I don’t mind if the wife watches.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I’m actually better when I put on a show.”

“Okay, down girl.” I grabbed her arm and yanked her backward, away from the married bartender. “Try to keep your hands off friends of my new bandmates, especially the married ones, please.”

She sniffed out a sound and scowled at me. “Speaking of bandmates, that bastard Billy Galloway refuses to give me my panties back.”

I blinked at her, momentarily clueless what she meant before I tipped my head to the side and asked, “How the hell did he get your panties?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “How do you think, puta?”

My mouth dropped open. “¡Dios mío! You had sex with him? Just now? But...you...how...Holy Lord, you just met him. And you were only gone five minutes.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? He hit the right spot. Didn’t take me long.” Then she paused, her eyes growing big. “Oh, shit. You didn’t want him for yourself, did you?”

“What?! Eww, no.” Wrinkling my nose with disgust, I shook my head, still trying to deny what she was telling me, but...no. I didn’t want her to have any kind of carnal knowledge of any of my bandmates. Especially that one.

“So...you didn’t mind that I...?”

When she l

ifted her eyebrows, I sighed. “A little too late to ask me that now, but no...I guess not. I just can’t believe you actually wanted him.” He was disgusting.

With a shrug, she flipped her hair and started to scan the crowds again. “Why wouldn’t I take him on? He’s like a male version of me.”

The hell if he was. Promiscuous-wise...okay, maybe. But other than that, Gally was a bigoted jerk who didn’t care about anyone but his dick. Jodi was a fun-time girl who sometimes—or lots of times—didn’t think things through or consider other people’s feelings, but underneath that, she had a good heart and never set out to purposely hurt anyone. Or maybe I just always made excuses for her because to me, I’d known her long enough, she was more like a younger sister than a friend. I might’ve possibly put up blinders to her flaws, forgave her too easily, and got a bit protective when anyone tried to bash her.

“Ooh! There he is.” She arched up onto tiptoes and peered through the crowd of people before saying, “Those were my favorite pair, too. Excuse me. I have undergarments to retrieve.” And she was gone again.

I gaped at the spot where she’d been standing, still stunned that she’d already captured one of my fucking bandmates.

Suddenly, Ten slapped the top of the bar and then pointed at me.

“Remy,” he nearly shouted. Then he pointed after Jodi. “Jodi, Remy. Remy, Jodi. Holy shit!” His eyes went huge and he jabbed his finger in my direction. Then he leaned my way and hissed, “It’s you. You’re...” His gaze skimmed over me. “Jesus, now I understand why you text such long messages to Hart. You’re not a dude at all. You’re a fucking chick!”

“What?” I immediately glanced around to see who’d heard him, but fortunately, no one was paying us any attention. So I whirled back to the wide-eyed man who kept staring at my chest and squinting. “How...what...?”

He learned forward. “Unreal. What’d you do with your tits—”