Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses Book #8)(58)
“You and Blake biting the dust on the same day? Geez.” I pull him in again and shoot Blake a thumbs-up as he wails into the mic. He shoots one right back with a wink.
“So that’s what they’re doing over there.” He taps his knuckles over the bar. “Spending some money.”
We share a dull laugh.
“I can’t believe this.” It’s the first time I’ve smiled in two solid weeks, and a coat of guilt fills me, heavy as marbles.
Holt wipes down the counter in front of us, and Wyatt nods to him. “And you know about this guy, right?”
“No way,” I groan to Holt before offering up a fist bump. “Are you taking one for the team, too? When’s the big day?”
“August lucky thirteenth.”
“Man.” I give a wistful shake of the head. “You guys are falling like flies.”
Holt pushes out a short-lived grin. “You don’t know how lucky I feel. I used to dream of being with Izzy, and now I am. It’s like something I waited for my entire life I finally have right here in front of me. Gift wrapped. It’s Christmas morning every single day.” Someone calls for his attention, and he swats his towel over his shoulder before taking off. My stomach falls to my feet. I know exactly what he’s talking about. Being with Cassidy would feel like just that, Christmas morning over and over again.
“I’d better get back there.” Wyatt’s chest bloats with his next lungful. “I hope you find what we have. You deserve it, Cade.”
He takes off, and I lose any desire to sit on this stool for another second. Instead, I make my way to the back, to the poolroom in hopes of finding Owen hanging out with his buddies, and sure enough, there they are, Piper and her two girlfriends included.
“Big brother!” Piper gifts me a running hug. “Can I get you anything? Do you want me to get you some soup?” Her big blue eyes expand twice the size.
“No, that’s okay.” A dull laugh rattles in my chest. For the last week and a half, Piper has been plying me with comfort foods, and for the last week and a half, I’ve been trying to convince her I don’t have the flu. I’m sick both physically and emotionally, yes, but that’s because I miss the hell out of Cassidy. I’m concerned for her. She’s been my one singular thought from the moment I met her right here at this bar.
“Where is she?” I plead with my sister. For as often as she’s been trying to hydrate me with fluids, I’ve been begging her for answers to no avail.
Something in her loosens as she looks to Owen for help.
“Dude”—I head straight over and try my hardest not to shake the shit out of him—“tell me where she is. I’ll do whatever you want.” I’m this close to bribing him with cash and prizes.
Owen looks over my shoulder at Piper while his two buddies, Jet and Rex, flank him on either side, offering up their sympathy to me as if there’s been a death in the family, and in a way it feels as if there has been.
Owen shifts his pool stick from one hand to the other. “She’s at Stilettos.”
I bolt out the door and make a mad dash for my car. I hop inside and shout “Stilettos” into the GPS, and before I know it, I’m headed to Jepson.
Nobody is more startled to shit than me to be circling a strip club on a Friday night in hopes to track down the woman I love. I hit the rear of the establishment and park in the boonies before running like hell to get inside.
“Whoa, cowboy.” A roided-out bouncer holds up his stump of an arm, barring me from the entry. Something about the way he called me cowboy makes this feel like a good omen. “Pay up. Cover’s fifty bucks.”
I whip out a Benjamin, and he lets me in without blinking.
It’s dark inside, or rather extremely dimly lit. A red sequined sign at the entrance shines like a jewel spelling out the name of the establishment. The place is thick with topless women walking around on proverbial stilts while serving cocktails to the mostly wasted patrons. Gobs of men from all walks of life sit entranced around the elongated runway that unfurls itself down the center of the room. A couple of girls wearing nothing but G-strings take turns dancing and pretending to wrestle. I find the first seat and scan the room trying to figure out exactly what I’m doing here when the music dies down and the girls prance their way offstage. The one with a hot pink feathered boa has so many bills stuffed into that string tucked against her bottom, she leaves a trail of green in her wake.
The lights go nuts, and a shirtless man pumps up the crowd as he struts the catwalk with his glittery top hat and ridiculous gold pants. “Let’s all make some noise for the fabulous Caila Jace!”
The crowd loses their shit as the announcer does a disappearing act, and the music comes on with a backbeat so hard you feel it thumping in your chest. It’s as if it’s trying to kick-start my heart, but it’s a futile effort. Not even a set of paddles could electrocute me back to the land of the living. The only thing I need is—that I’ll ever need is…
A drop-dead gorgeous blonde sashays out onto the stage swirling her hips, grinding them to the music, and my jaw goes slack.
The only thing that I need is—“Caila Jace?” Her name comes from my lips in a foreign whisper. “What the heck?” I sit stunned for a few minutes as she begins to sing into the mic, and that sweet country twang takes me by the balls and wrenches the shit out of them.