Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(39)

“West, dear! Wait right there,” she hollered, turning back into the house. She reemerged five seconds later with a box and sauntered across the street.

“Go with it,” he whispered to me.

“You had a delivery this afternoon, darling. I signed for it for you, so here you go.” She patted the top of the box with a fond smile and turned soft, hazel eyes on me. “Hello, dear. I’m Patricia Evans. Are you a friend of West’s?”

Her eyes sparkled when she said friend.

Oh dear. Now I understood his “go with it.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans,” I said politely, taking her offered hand. “I’m Mia, and I actually work with West. I’m his new marketing consultant.”

“Ooh, how lovely.” She patted my fingers and turned to him. “Bit late for work, isn’t it, dear?”

“Not on the Strip.” He smiled at her. “Business dinner.”

“Business dinner. Mhmm.” She looked back at me. “Well, I’ll leave you kids to it. Just wanted to bring this package to you before I forgot.”

“Thank you very much. I appreciate it.” West bent down and kissed her cheek. “Tell Walter I said hello.”

“I will, dear. I will.” She took a few steps and looked at his yard. “I do wish you’d let me plant a few flowers in your yard. It’d brighten it right up and attract the ladies, you know.”

Because he had such a problem attracting them. I bit my laugh at that back.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you in your Christmas card this year,” West called after her.

“You do that, darling!” she called right back.

“Quick. Get inside before she drags Walter out to get a look at you,” he said in a low voice, gripping my elbow. “Package my ass. She knows I would have seen the card and gone and got it. She heard the car, looked out, and saw you. Nosy old dear.”

I laughed into my hand and let him manhandle me into his house. Almost immediately, the rich scent of spaghetti Bolognese attacked my nose, and I inhaled deeply.

“Damn. Is Beck really cooking that?” I asked West.

He nodded. “Isn’t a thing he can’t do well. Asshole.”

“Did Mrs. Evans corner you?” Beck appeared in the doorway to what was, I presumed, the kitchen. “She saw you leave and came over to find out where you were going.”

West stared at him. “What did you tell her?”

Beck grinned. “I told her you were going to pick up a lady friend for dinner.”

“Jesus, Beck. No wonder she was desperate to get this package to me. I don’t even know what it is.”

“Oh, it’s an empty box.”

“Why would she give you an empty box?” I looked at West.

He slid his gaze back to me. “Because Beck kindly told her you were coming and she wanted an excuse to see you. She’s shameless, I swear.”

“She was one of the most sought-after strippers in the city before she met Walter and married him two weeks later,” Beck explained, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t think she knows what shame is.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna hear the end of it now, so thanks.” West moved past him, package in hand, and dumped it on the side.

Beck winked at me. “Always a pleasure to piss him off.”

Oh boy. I had a feeling this was going to be a long evening.



I had been right.

In the last hour, I’d been regaled with tales from both their childhood and teenage years, and almost every one was designed to embarrass the heck out of West. I learned that, when they were eleven, he’d broken his arm climbing a tree to impress a girl. Apparently, he’d never considered that falling was something that might happen to him.

When they were sixteen, he prepared a giant promposal for one of the girls on the cheerleading squad in front of almost their entire high school, but she said no and he refused to go to their prom that year.

And the first time they ever stripped, he fell over, spilled the girl’s drink all over her, and almost got himself fired because he inadvertently groped her very intimately as he attempted to clean her up.

To West’s credit, he sat there and let Beck get it all out while I giggled my way through both dinner and dessert. Sure, he shot him a few dirty looks and, I suspect, kicked him under the table like a child, but he never told him to stop.

I wondered how many times they’d done this routine before.

“All right, all right,” West finally said. “Can we switch to you now? You’ve done stupider shit than I have in the past.”

“You mean like the time I pulled that chick before our sophomore year in college and she ended up being the teaching assistant in one of my classes?” Beck asked. “Because that was a bummer. I was really into her.”

“You... You did what?” I put my glass of wine. “Did you sleep with her again?”

He grinned. “Of course I did. We slept together for six months before she had a pregnancy scare and we decided it was over.”

“You mean you decided it was over,” West reminded him.

“Was she pregnant?” I questioned.

“No. But she told me she was protected. How many scares do you have if you’re sure you’re protected?”