Hit the Spot Page 13

  “They absolutely did not just double,” I shot back.

  My urges were fine. He was wrong about that, too.

  Jamie opened the door, but he didn’t step through it, keeping his hand on the knob instead. He looked back at me over his shoulder.

  “That thing you were wonderin’ about,” he began, and I felt my insides turn into liquid.

  Oh, no…

  Please don’t…

  He smiled, promising, “You’re gonna fuckin’ love it.”

  My tell-all body reacted again, this time with my lips parting. It was a subtle reaction. One that could go unnoticed.

  Too bad it didn’t.

  Jamie’s gaze lowered to my lips the second they parted. “Take that back. Thinkin’ those urges just tripled,” he guessed with all the confidence in the world.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  His sparkled like moonlight on the water.

  Then he looked ahead and stepped out of my house with his delicious bag of leftovers, calling out before the door closed, “Later, babe. Have fun dreamin’ about my dick.”

  I stared, mouth agape, at my door for a solid minute. And then I went to bed, where I absolutely did not have fun dreaming about his dick.

  Not for one second.

  I also did not have fun thinking about it the following day when I avoided any chance of contact with Jamie by spending my day off at my parents’ house. And when I finally got home close to one a.m., that not-so-fun feeling only continued throughout the night and carried over into today, bringing us to right now.

  I was standing at the kitchen window at Whitecaps, fingers curving under the edges of two plates that were ready to be taken to the tables waiting for their food, but instead of delivering those plates, I was staring at the curved barbell in Stitch’s bottom lip.

  Never gave it a second glance before.

  Now? You’d think I was witnessing a unicorn being born or something with the way I was engrossed by it.

  “You got a problem?”

  Stitch’s hard, grating voice jolted me into consciousness.

  I blinked up at him, saw he was paused in his vegetable chopping and glaring at me like I’d personally done him wrong, then decided I didn’t much care for his growing attitude today and went ahead and shared that feeling.

  “Catch more flies with honey. Ever hear that?” I asked, sliding the plates off the metal lip of the window and holding them in front of me. “Sure she’d forgive you a lot sooner if you started acting a little nicer.”

  I was referring to Shay and the grudge she was holding against Stitch for blowing off their first official date a while back, and I knew Stitch was following me.

  The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened. Stitch was scary looking without the added hostility. Tall and built in the shoulders, wide chest, limbs covered in ink. Intimidating swagger.

  Total badass biker vibe.

  “You and Red need to stay the fuck out of it,” he bit out. “Ain’t your business.”

  Red was Syd apparently.

  It fit her. She did have wild red hair.

  “I’m gonna let you think that since we’re slammed and I don’t have time to argue it,” I told him, turning sideways and leaning closer to the window. “Just know, you chose the wrong profession if you want to keep personal stuff personal. You work with a bunch of women, Stitch. We get high off gossip.”

  Stitch had gone back to chopping up the vegetables, but when I informed him of this, he stopped again.

  “Leave it alone,” he ordered, eyes coming up.

  “Ask nicely and maybe I will.”

  “This is me askin’ nicely,” he growled.

  I straightened up, hearing the seriousness in his voice and the threat of an even angrier Stitch, something I couldn’t imagine, so I decided to let him think I’d be leaving this alone for the sake of Whitecaps. Pissing off the cook could lead to him up and quitting, and I really didn’t want that. So I nodded once and let Stitch see it, knowing he’d read that as my surrender, then I turned and walked away with my hot plates of food and delivered them to table eight.

  “I hate being this busy, but I kinda love it, too,” Shay said, meeting me at the hostess podium, where we were both putting menus away. “Keeps my mind off things.” She gave me a weak smile.

  I put my hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze. “He’s an idiot.”

  “I know.” Her eyes moved over my shoulder toward the kitchen. She sighed. “I just wish he’d realize that and fix it. I miss talking to him.”

  I started immediately regretting backing down and faking surrender with Stitch. But I couldn’t do anything about that now, for two reasons. One, it was lunch rush and I had a billion tables. And two, my phone started ringing from the back pocket of my shorts.

  Normally, I wouldn’t take calls during work hours because it was unprofessional, but seeing as my tables were all happy at the moment and not needing anything from me, and also considering it was my mother calling, I decided to make an exception.

  Typically, her calls were short. And this one should be extra short. I’d just spent all day with her yesterday.

  “Two seconds,” I told Shay, not wanting her to feel like I was ducking out of our conversation.

  She waved me off, shaking her head and conveying what we were discussing wasn’t important. But it was. And we’d be getting back to it.

  I heard the door chime from behind me as I made my way toward the employee lounge, phone pressing to my ear.

  More customers. I really needed to make this quick.

  “Hey, I’m at work. What’s up?” I answered.

  “Would you please call your father and tell him he needs to make an appointment with his doctor? He’s refusing to listen to me.”

  My mother sounded at the end of her rope. Her voice was tight and high-pitched.

  She’d been arguing with my father about this last night, too, while I was there.

  “Is he still having heartburn?” I asked, pushing the door open and stepping inside the lounge.

  “If that’s what it even is, and I’m not convinced. He hasn’t been eating anything spicy.” she replied. “I’m thinking he’ll listen to you, pumpkin. Just try for me, will you? He worries me.”

  “Okay. I’ll call him now. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Thanks, baby girl.”

  “Sure, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I disconnected the call and dialed my father’s cell, knowing he was probably out in the factory right now and not at his desk, considering he hated being cooped up in that office.

  It was newly renovated, came equipped with its own private gym, and had a spectacular view of downtown Raleigh.

  I could see why he hated it.

  “Your mother called you, didn’t she?” he answered with a smile in his voice.

  I laughed. “Can’t blame her for getting creative. You know how she is.” I looked at the clock on the wall. “What’s going on, Daddy? You’re still not feeling good?”

  “Feeling fine, princess. Just a little heartburn. Nothing a few Tums can’t knock out.”

  “You sure that’s all it is? Maybe you should go see the doctor just in case—”

  “No need,” he cut me off short.

  My father hated going to the doctor. He hadn’t been to one in over twenty years.

  “They’re just gonna run some tests that aren’t necessary and give me pills I don’t even need. I know how they operate,” he argued. “No thank you. I’ll stick with my Tums.”

  The door to the lounge swung open.

  I turned my head and watched Jamie stride into the room, looking like he’d just stepped out of the water and off the beach.

  Hair saltwater damp and board shorts on. Thank Christ he was wearing a shirt.

  And the board shorts. I did not need my memory jogged.

  I gave him a look after the door closed behind him, signifying he wasn’t allowed back here.

  He
gave me a look back, signifying he didn’t give a fuck about where he was or wasn’t allowed. Then he leaned his shoulder against a locker and pulled out his phone, looking down and messing with it.

  Apparently he was waiting me out. Terrific.

  I went back to my phone call.

  “They aren’t a cure-all, Daddy. And it might not even be heartburn that’s giving you chest pain. Did you think about that?”

  “It’s heartburn,” my father argued. “I know what it feels like. Been dealing with it for years.”

  “I think you need to go see a doctor to rule out anything more serious.”

  Jamie’s eyes came up then. He looked at the phone I was holding.

  “Love you, princess, but I’m gonna tell you what I told your mother. Doctors are for sick people, and I’m not sick.”

  “But you could be sick.” My hand came up and started gesturing. I was getting impatient. “You could have, I don’t know, heart issues or something. You don’t know!”

  “If the Tums stop working, I’ll look into making an appointment. Until then, quit worrying about your old man. I’m as healthy as a horse.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, nodding. He was right. He was healthy. Had a little extra weight on him, but that didn’t seem to slow him down.

  Aside from the heartburn bringing this conversation on, my father never had anything wrong with him, which was one of the reasons he hadn’t been to the doctor in so many years. There was no need for it.

  “All right,” I sighed, looking back to the clock on the wall and checking the time. “I’d really feel better if you got this looked at, but if you promise you’ll go see someone if the Tums stop working, I guess that’s good, too.”

  “Have my word, princess. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “Gotta get back to work.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Love you, princess.”

  I smiled. “Love you, too.”

  Jamie straightened from the locker as I slipped my phone away. He jerked his chin at me, asking, “Your dad sick?”

  He sounded genuinely concerned. As if he actually knew my father himself.

  “Uh.” I blinked. This was weird. “No. Not really. He’s just having a lot of heartburn.”

  “Won’t go get it checked out?”

  “My father doesn’t do doctors.”

  Jamie smiled a little. “I see where you get your stubbornness,” he said.

  I grabbed my hips, telling him, “I hope you’re not expecting to get a table anytime soon. We’re slammed, if you didn’t notice.”

  “Not stayin’. Got work shit to do.”

  I blinked. “Oh.”

  I wanted to sound surprised. Pleased. Elated. Jamie wasn’t staying. This was great for me. But my “Oh” came out sounding disappointed.

  The hell?

  Jamie’s smile grew hearing this disappointment.

  Shit.

  “Well, good,” I quickly added, wanting to shut down that smile. “What are you doing here then?”

  He shrugged, slipping his phone away. “Wanted to stop in and see how you were doin’ with that situation I left you in the other night. Came in yesterday, but you weren’t here. Gave me the slip last night, too.” His eyes lowered to my shorts. “How’s the ache?”

  “I need to get back to work.”

  “Figured it was bad last night for you to stay gone. I’m thinkin’ you’re on the fuckin’ edge now.”

  “How’s it for you?” I asked, tipping forward.

  He wasn’t the only one still playing this game.

  Jamie mouth lifted in the corner. He stared at me, not answering as seconds ticked by. He looked like he held a thousand words on his tongue, but he wasn’t giving me any.

  I rocked back onto my heels. I was starting to regret even asking.

  Then he smiled a little bigger and brighter, and jerked his chin, promising, “You give me the slip tonight and I will come lookin’ for you.”

  My fingers lost their grip and slid down.

  Tonight. Quinn’s party.

  Crap.

  Jamie would be there. Of course he would. It was his sister’s birthday. And it was at a strip club.

  “I’m going, but only for your sister,” I informed him, tipping my chin up. “She’s sweet and I like her.”

  “She thinks you’re sweet, too,” he said.

  My heart warmed hearing that.

  “You wearin’ those sex pants?” Jamie asked, eyebrow lifting.

  Oh, my God. What was up with him and these pants?

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ll most likely be wearing this, since I’ll be leaving right from here,” I shot back. “Not sex anything. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Ain’t disappointing me,” he said. “Know how I feel about that uniform, Legs.”

  “Yeah. You shared that.”

  “Also know what’s underneath,” he added with a smirk.

  I scowled.

  I was going to regret that game plan until the day I died.

  Jamie’s phone beeped. He glanced at it and then tucked it away again, saying, “Gotta go, babe. I’ll see ya tonight.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” I sighed.

  There was no point in fighting it. It would just take up more time, and I had work to do.

  I made for the door, expecting Jamie to open it so we could both get back to our jobs, but instead of doing that, he blocked it with his shoulder the second I reached it.

  We collided, my hands flying up to his chest and pushing away, but I met resistance when he wrapped his arm around my waist and yanked me closer.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, voice tight and startled, looking up at him while putting pressure on his hand at my back.

  “Thought I’d get a kiss before I go,” he said casually, as if this were a normal thing between us and we shared kisses regularly.

  I sucked in a breath. “What?” I whispered.

  “A kiss, Legs. I want one.”

  “But we don’t do that.”

  “Feels like a good time to start.”

  His face slowly moved in, drawing closer and closer as his gaze focused on my lips.

  My heart was beating like crazy and my stomach was clenching tight, not in fear or disgust, but in anticipation.

  I wanted Jamie to kiss me. I wanted to feel it again. His mouth and his need. I wanted it.

  I could go back to hating him after we were finished. Immediately after we were finished.

  Body trembling, I closed my eyes.

  I was going to do it. I was going to kiss Jamie McCade.

  “How’s that ache now?” he whispered against my ear.

  My eyes flashed open. That was when I heard his deep, amused chuckle.

  Mother—

  “You are such a jerk!” I hissed, shoving hard against his chest.

  Jamie staggered backward, still laughing. Then he opened the door and flashed me one of the biggest grins I’d ever seen him wear before sauntering back out into the dining area.

  And I got back to work and back to hating him immediately, as if I never even stopped.

  * * *

  I’d never been to a strip club before. Male or female varieties. And they were both in Dogwood Beach. So I didn’t really know what to expect of The Dollhouse.

  After showing my ID to the bouncer at the door, I paid the cover and stepped inside.

  The room was cast in a pink glow, keeping it dark except for the two stages. They had additional lights above them to shine down on the dancers. A bar ran the length of one wall, and in the corner on a raised platform was a DJ booth, pumping tunes into the air. Fabric hung from the ceiling and separated the back VIP area, I was guessing. There was a very large man standing guard there and only letting certain people pass. Chairs were pushed up close to the stages for prime viewing seats, and behind them there were small round tables with stools pulled up so that people could sit together.

  That
was where I spotted Quinn and her group.

  “Tori!” She jumped up and waved me over, then pulled me into a hug when I reached the table. “Thank you so much for coming!”

  I hugged her back. “Anytime, babe.”

  Quinn leaned away and smiled, flashing dimples that matched her brother’s. She was wearing a black bodysuit with sleeves down to her elbows, see-through stockings, and black combat boots, had her eyeliner winged out and her hair extra spiky. She faced the other three women sitting with her and went about with introductions while keeping her hand on my back.

  “Guys, this is Tori. She’s the kick-ass chick I told you about. Knows Jamie. He’s totally staking claim, but she’s not hearing that. And if she starts playing with your hair, let her. It feels amazing.”

  I turned my head and gaped at her.

  Not because I disagreed with what she’d just said—she was spot on with the Jamie thing—but because that had to be the strangest introduction I’d ever received.

  Quinn shrugged, catching my reaction, then started pointing around the table. “This is Chante, Jen, and Andrea.”

  “Hey,” I greeted each of them, lifting my hand in a wave.

  They were all in short, tight dresses and, by the looks of them, spent ample time on makeup and hair. The three were young like Quinn and seemed to be just as friendly by the way they were smiling at me.

  “What’s up?” Chante said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jen offered.

  “Hey,” Andrea threw out last. “That was really cool what you did for Quinn. Thanks for looking out for her.”

  “Of course.” I gave Andrea a smile, then slid it to Quinn. “Here. I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got you an Amazon gift card. You can pretty much buy anything from there,” I told her, pulling the small card out of my pocket and handing it over. “Happy birthday.”

  “Oh, my God! You didn’t have to do that!” She threw her arms around me again and squeezed me tight. “Thank you. You’re so cool,” she whispered next to my ear.

  I hugged her back and wore an even brighter smile when she pulled away, letting her see it. I really liked Quinn.

  She did a little dance with her gift card before reclaiming her seat.

  I glanced around the room and smoothed out the ends of my hair, not looking for anyone in particular.