All Night Long (Man of the Month 9)

"You mean about the gym?"

She nodded. They'd met this morning at his downtown gym on Lavaca like they always did before grabbing breakfast together. But instead of leaving right away, as was their habit, he'd taken her into the bowels of the gym. He'd talked to her about the various machines and their cost. About the floorplan of the building. About his membership stats.

And then he told her that he was going to move forward with franchising.

He already had several locations around Austin, and he oversaw all of them, using managers for the day-to-day stuff. And, sure, he'd talked about franchising, but she'd assumed that was a lark.

But today, he was talking as if it was really happening. With lawyers and paperwork and money flowing.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked. "I mean, not to rain on your parade, but are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said, without the slightest hesitation. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. It's such a permanent step. What if it falls apart?"

"Why should it?"

"I don't know. Because something happens."

He nodded slowly. "You do understand that at the end of the day, I'm the glue that holds the whole chain together. There's no one I trust more than myself. Not even you."

"Yay for self-confidence, but you know that things won't always turn out the way you want them to. You'll get it going and then, boom, it'll get pulled out from under you. Nothing is ever solid."

"Maybe not. But it's worth trying to be." He tilted his head as he eyed her. "Are you nervous for me?"

"Always," she admitted.

"Do you think I can do it?"

"You're one of those guys who can do anything."

"Except, apparently, find a good woman."

"You will," she said firmly. "One who deserves you." Her phone chirped, and she frowned at her brother. "That's my alarm. I have to run. Free-Tail is one of the sponsors for tonight's event at the Winston Hotel, and I've got temporary waiters coming in I have to train."

"Go for it. I'll sit here in peace and finish my mountain of pancakes."

She slid out of the booth.

"Hey." His single word stopped her.

"What?"

"You can do anything, too," Matthew said.

"I know. And that means I can also do everything." She winked, then turned and hurried for the door.

The last thing Easton had wanted after his unexpected night of debauchery and sin was to leave a warm and willing woman in his bed so that he could fly up to Dallas for hours of mind-numbing depositions. Especially since, when he'd finally returned home at just after five in the evening, the sheets had turned cold and she was nowhere to be found.

The second to last thing he wanted to do after a night of wild, acrobatic sex chased by mundane depositions, was to be standing in the grand ballroom of the Winston Hotel in Austin, trying to kick-start enough brain cells to allow him to make conversation. And yet here he was, standing right inside the doorway leading to one of the many charity balls that served to get his name in front of voters and influencers with as much

efficiency as a finger swipe on Tinder.

And considering he could barely walk straight today, he wanted to be here even less.

Still, Easton had a goal, and he and Judge Coale had a plan for reaching that goal. Which meant that despite the fact that Selma had essentially ridden him to the moon and wrung him dry, he was at this party to work.

He drew a breath, straightened his tie, and stepped the rest of the way into the chaos of the ballroom. Immediately, a waitress in a black tank top handed him a glass of bourbon, and he took a sip, impressed by the smooth taste with just enough burn to make it worth drinking. He looked up, realized the waitress's tank top had the Free-Tail logo on it, and froze. Because there she was. Selma. On the other side of the ballroom.