Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(38)

He laughed again and, wrapping one strong arm around my shoulders, pulled me against his side. I blushed as he tucked me right against his body and kissed the side of my head.

“You’re crazy, Mia.”

“The evidence does support that theory, yes.” I wriggled out of his hold as we reached his car. It was parked right in front of my rental and honestly made mine look like something that needed restoration. “Why are you so scared about me having dinner with you and Beck?”

We got in the car before he spoke.

“So scared is an exaggeration. Apprehensive is a better word.” He started the engine. “For the most part, Beck and I are like chalk and cheese. I’m far more serious than he is. Even when we were kids, I was always the one who had to work before I played. He tended to do everything last minute, but luckily for him, he’s stupidly f*cking smart, so it was never a problem.” He laughed low, and I had to smile at the gentle fondness that intertwined with his words. “If I had my way, tonight would be a business dinner, but that stupid dick had to go ahead and do it at my house, where the chance of that happening is nothing. He’s likely to tell you every dumb thing we did as kids to embarrass me.”

“Won’t it embarrass him too?”

He flashed me a half smile. “In our senior year of high school, he was dared to pull his pants down in the middle of the hall. He did it and asked the girls who wanted his phone number.”

“He did... Seriously?”

“Yep. He was suspended for a week, but I’m almost certain he slept with a different girl in our year every night that week.”

I laughed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Wow. I think I’m impressed.”

“I think, after that, he became a hero to every guy below our year. Even our math teacher was impressed and gave him a high five.” He shrugged. “Nothing can embarrass Beck. I’ve tried.”

“You were the one who dared him to pull his pants down, weren’t you?”

“Of course not.” His eyes sparkled. “I was the one who gave the kid the idea though.”

“And you say you’re the serious one.”

Another shrug. “I am. Most nights, he’s by the bar in the club—both Rock Solid and The Landing Strip. The women’s club next door,” he added. Like I didn’t know that. “I’m usually working, making sure they’re both running smoothly, while he plays.”

“I don’t believe you’re that serious, West. Nobody who’s totally serious strips.”

“I told you—that’s my fun. I was a stripper before we owned the club. We both were. At Rock Solid before it was Rock Solid.”

“What happened? How did you get the club?”

He looked at me when we reached a red light, and a little hesitance glimmered back at me from his eyes. “My parents died in a car crash around the time Beck’s grandmother passed away from cancer. Most of her inheritance went to his parents, but she’d left him a good chunk. I don’t have any siblings, so I got everything my parents owned. We were twenty-four and realizing we couldn’t strip forever. It was good money, sure, but eventually, we’d have to get real jobs. We both had business degrees, so when our boss announced he was selling the club, we invested our inheritances and savings.”

“Good choice.”

“It was. The club was failing, but between us, within a year, we had it running successfully again.”

“And it’s been successful ever since.”

“Honestly, we almost lost it two years ago,” he admitted, his expression darkening. “I made a few stupid choices that almost cost us everything, including some of our other businesses, but my grandparents weren’t willing to let us lose what we’d worked so hard for. They lent me money. And charged me interest.” He smirked, all traces of darkness disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared.

“Most people wouldn’t admit that, you know. Especially not to their marketing consultant.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well, your boss drives a hard bargain. You’re already paid, angel. She wanted it up front because, apparently, you’re very expensive.”

“Well, you know. You get what you pay for.” I grinned as he turned into what looked like a very wealthy area. I knew nothing about Vegas except for the Strip, but these houses, while they weren’t mansions, were definitely bigger than your average property. “Nice.”

“It’s not bad.” He smirked, pulling into one of the driveways.

The two-story house was red brick, simple, and the front yard consisted of a stone path and cacti.

“Cacti. In the desert. How original,” I teased him, getting out of the car.

Another laugh. God. I love that sound.

“Do I look like I garden to you, angel?” He held his arms out. “They look after themselves. Sometimes they even flower. Although I’m pretty sure Mrs. Evans across the street is desperate to come plant some flowers in there. One day, I might just let—oh, f*cking hell. Here she comes.”

I spun around and saw the classiest-looking older lady I’d ever seen standing on the doorstep of the house opposite West’s. Her silver-gray hair was twisted into an elegant updo, and her peach dress fit her perfectly. The pearls around her neck set it off though.