Good Time(9)

I know, I know. He’s not even wearing a tie. Damn my overactive imagination.

“That’s not even a thing,” he responds, picking up a mug from his desk and leaning back in his chair as he takes a sip, eyeing me over the rim. “The saying is serious as a heart attack.”

“Like sharks aren’t serious? You try swimming with a shark and then tell me how not-serious they are.” I rattle my ice and take another sip, confident I’ve made my point.

“You know he slept with all of them, right?”

“Duh,” I reply. I’m not an idiot.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” Vince asks, setting the mug down on his desk and leaning forward, arms braced on the desk. He’s wearing a white oxford shirt, no tie. I find the choice very compelling for a Saturday morning. Most men would be in a t-shirt. The sleeves are rolled back to his elbows and I find this sexy as all hell. The top couple of buttons are undone and I can see a hint of his chest and if I thought he’d allow it, I’d crawl into his lap right now and work my way through the rest of those buttons. I know this isn’t the time or place and that my insta-lust defies reasonableness but he just does something for me. Something primal. Something wanton. He’s even better-looking up close than he was from my vantage point on the balcony a few days ago.

“I’m a lot of things. It’s true,” I agree. I bet this is exactly what my life coach meant about capitalizing on my strengths. I feel good about all of this.

“Payton, was it?” he questions and I beam. He remembers my name. Granted, I only gave it to him three minutes ago, but I like a man who pays attention. It bodes well for his skills in bed.

“Yeah?” Big smile. I know I’ve done most of the talking thus far but I’d say it’s going well and my lust crush is still a hundred percent on. Vince looks like a real good time and that’s what I’m after. A good time is a great place to start and maybe it’ll lead to something more, maybe it won’t. Likely it won’t because he owns a strip club and I’ve got issues.

“Why are you here?”

Ugh, Vince. That was rude. I literally just explained why I’m here. Of course, I suppose that was an explanation of why Lydia is here, wasn’t it? I didn’t explain what I’m doing here, did I? It’s not as if I planned to come here with an offer to be his girlfriend, because I didn’t even know he was going to be here. That was all fate.

“I’m earning my best friend badge,” I offer with a small shrug. I wouldn’t mind a best friend badge, actually. I lost the few badges I had during the badge pyramid débacle.

“Vince,” Lydia interrupts, finally gathering the courage to take charge of this meeting, which is a good thing because I’m pretty sure Vince is contemplating booting us out of his office. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m listening, Miss Clark,” Vince replies, his gaze sliding away from mine as he focuses on Lydia. “You’ve got nine minutes left. If you want something you’d better get to it. Quickly.”

This is the part where Lydia blurts out her plan. The part where she asks the owner of a strip club—a man she’s never met before—to auction off her virginity. But only if Rhys is the winning bidder.

Good Lord, how did I allow her to leave the apartment with this idea? I do not deserve a best friend badge.

When she finishes Vince stares at her in complete silence, his fingers drumming on the desktop. Crap, this is kinda tense. I hate tension. I take a nervous drag from my iced coffee but it’s empty so the room fills with that annoying hollow rattling noise that occurs from creating a wind tunnel in an empty cup. That and the sound of me shaking the ice against the side. Vince glares at me, but I attempt another sip in case the ice-shaking freed a few drops. It didn’t.

“Are you for real?” Vince asks, eyes firmly on mine.

“So real. And so are my boobs.” Which he has yet to look at. I’m never wearing this top again. The man makes his living running an establishment with topless women and he can’t even be bothered to check out my rack? It’s insulting. And bad business. My tits are phenomenal. He should make a note of that in case I ever do submit an application. Jerk.

He stares at me another moment before shaking his head with a single nod as he turns his attention back to Lydia. “This isn’t a brothel,” he tells her. “Prostitution isn’t legal in Clark County.”

“Of course not,” she agrees hurriedly. “Double Diamonds is a business though, isn’t it, Mr...?”

“Vince,” he replies, deadpan.

“Right. Mr. Vince, you’re a businessman at heart, aren’t you? So let’s make a deal. I’ll make it worth your while,” Lydia promises.

God, this girl. A basket of fresh-baked cookies is not going to make this worth his while. She is so out of her league.

“Scout’s honor,” I volunteer as I give Vince a wink, a big dramatic wink complete with a head tilt and a click of my tongue. “The Urban Dictionary kind, big guy.”

Lydia’s head turns towards me and now she’s glaring at me too. Sheesh, you try and help a friend out! It’s not as though I was volunteering her for sexual favors. No way I’d volunteer her, Vince is mine and I’m already sharing him with those two other girlfriends. Wait, he never confirmed that, did he? Huh, he’s really not very forthcoming with the personal information. He’s not wearing a ring, but maybe he’s already got a girlfriend. A real one whom he loves and doesn’t fuck around on.