Trashy Page 3

  His breath was hot, ruffling my hair as he growled into my ear. “You only get to walk away when I say you can walk away. We aren’t done, Roxie. Not by a long shot.”

  My heart pounded violently against my ribs, and I pushed back, trying to shove him off me. It only made him pin me harder, as if he were trying to remind me who was in control. I sank my teeth into my lower lip against the pain of the door handle gouging into the side of my hip.

  Over the hood of my car, I looked for someone to call out to, someone I could make eye contact with. It amazed me how everyone went along with their own business while Craig stood here and intimidated me this way. It was as if they didn’t look, then it wasn’t happening.

  Cowards.

  “The last time you pulled something like this, you ended up bleeding and in handcuffs,” I ground out.

  “You better not be sleeping with him,” Craig growled, his teeth scraping over my ear. “If you are, I will fucking kill him.”

  Absolute denial and stark fear flooded me at the direct threat to Adam. “I’m not,” I said, fervently. Once the words escaped me, I bit my lip harder, until I tasted blood. I shouldn’t have said that. Now he knew Adam was important to me.

  Craig ground his hips against my backside. A car pulled up at the pump behind mine. “We aren’t done yet. You owe me.”

  I stood there for long moments after he jogged back to his car. After swallowing thickly, I turned my head and looked at the woman now pumping gas just feet away.

  Our eyes connected, and then she redirected her gaze somewhere else.

  I wrenched my car door open and over the sound of the rain, I heard the sleek purring of an engine. I glanced over the hood of the car to see a cherry-red Mercedes Benz convertible back out of its spot.

  Craig was behind the wheel. How had I not noticed the car before?

  I’d been too busy making sure he hadn’t gotten the best of me.

  Yet still he had. He drove off, and I climbed into the driver’s seat, abandoning my coffee and candy to the cup holders in the center. After a couple shaky breaths, I drove away.

  I had known seeing Craig again was inevitable. It still caught me off guard.

  What I hadn’t suspected was the expensive car he’d been driving. Craig didn’t have money. Holding down a job for more than a month at a time wasn’t one of his strong suits.

  Not that he had many strong suits.

  So, of course, I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell he had paid for it.

  4

  Adam

  When the phone in my office finally rang I answered it on the first ring.

  “Adam here,” I said, gruff. Anticipating this call all frickin’ morning was wearing my patience thin.

  “Adam, it’s Sherman,” answered the man on the other end.

  “I’ve been waiting on your call, Sherman.”

  Sherman was my attorney. After buying the club and having a few marriages fall apart, I figured it would probably be wise to hire an attorney to basically keep on speed dial. I didn’t like dealing with the legalities of life, so I paid him to do it for me.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Court ran long this morning.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Tell me she isn’t asking for more shit,” I spat.

  “She tried, but I managed to get it all dismissed.”

  I blew out a frustrated breath. “Thanks, Sherman. I really appreciate it.”

  “She wasn’t happy,” he said, and I barked a laugh. “That woman was nearly impossible to please… Well, I’m happy to announce that you are officially divorced.”

  A ten-pound weight lifted off my shoulders. I probably shouldn’t feel so relieved that marriage number four was now over. There was also the fact that I had managed to screw up four different marriages, yet I couldn’t seem to find any self-loathing.

  I was too damn happy to be free.

  Of all the wives I had, she was the hardest to divorce. She felt she was entitled to pretty much everything I owned. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t. After my second marriage crumbled, Sherman insisted I get a pre-nup. It wasn’t that I was worth millions or anything, but I was comfortable. My business pulled in some money, and I only planned to expand on that.

  The business, therefore, most of my money, was mine. She knew she couldn’t take any of it if we got divorced. Hell, she signed the papers. That didn’t stop her from trying to fight it in divorce court.

  Naturally, she was just bitter and angry. I couldn’t really blame her.

  “So that’s it?” I asked Sherman. “Everything is done?”

  “Yes, sir. Everything is done.”

  “Awesome,” I said. “Before you go, I wanted to ask you about one other matter.”

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “Were you able to extend the restraining order I took out on the asshole?”

  “What asshole would that be, sir?” Sherman said dryly.

  “Sherman,” I said dramatically, “you act like there’s a list!”

  He snickered on the other end of the line. Then he cleared his throat to answer. “I forgot to mention that. Yes, I was able to get the length of term extended. It’s good for another six months.”

  “You really earned your paycheck today, Sherman!” I told him and grinned into the phone.

  After I finished ribbing him, we said our good-byes and I hung up the phone.

  Finally. I was divorced. Again.

  I wondered if this most current ex of mine was as relieved as I was. I knew I hurt her, and for that I was genuinely sorry. I even let her have more in the divorce than she was entitled. I certainly took my share of the blame for the failed relationships in my past.

  And this one, well, it was mostly my fault.

  I tried to make it work. But something just kept getting in the way.

  Actually, it wasn’t a something, but rather a someone.

  Roxie.

  At first, it wasn’t that hard to fight the raging hormones she created inside me. She was taken. I was taken. And that was that.

  So what if I watched her dances just a little longer than everyone else’s? So what if the fact I could bark orders at her and have her sling back some stinging comment secretly thrilled me? I didn’t think anyone noticed the slightly favorable way I saw her.

  Until my wife came to the club. Apparently, she noticed it right away. I still remember the fight we had that night when she asked me why I never looked at her the way I looked at Roxie. I had no idea what she was talking about. I looked at Roxie the same way I looked at everyone else.

  But she didn’t think so.

  And that woman was like a dog with a bone.

  She even demanded I fire Rox.

  I put my foot down on that one. There was no way in hell I was firing my best dancer.

  And yeah, maybe I’d miss her if I did. But I didn’t say that part out loud.

  I did everything I could to prove to the wifey that I loved her and no one else. But in all honesty, it was hard to be loyal to one woman when I really wanted to be loyal to someone else.

  Even still, I tried. After I heard Roxie was single and had moved in with Harlow, I still tried, even though a voice whispered I might finally have a shot with her.

  And then one night changed everything.

  Roxie came to work, looking worn out and red in the face. She’d sat in some mechanic’s place half the day with no A/C, waiting for the stupid A/C in her car to get fixed.

  She looked sick and rundown, so I sent her home. I didn’t like seeing her like that; it made my gut feel weird.

  But after she was gone, I started worrying that I let her drive home. I wondered if she’d made it and was okay. So I drove to her place to check on her.

  I found her attacked, shaking, and the police on their way. Harlow and Cam were there, trying to make sure she was okay. But it wasn’t good enough.

  I wanted to be the one to take care of her.

  I still remember the way she felt in my arms th
at night. The way her head fit perfectly against my shoulder and the way her silky hair brushed against my jaw. I hated seeing her that way, upset and scared. And when she admitted her ex was abusive… it made me crazy.

  I slept on her couch that night, unwilling to leave her place. I needed to be sure she was okay.

  I called Sherman the next day and filed for divorce. I told him to get it done as soon as possible.

  I couldn’t keep trying anymore. Not once I admitted to myself how deep my feelings for Roxie actually ran.

  My wife didn’t take the news of the divorce very well. She accused me of having an affair with Roxie. It infuriated me for two reasons:

  1.) I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t a cheat. My second wife cheated on me, and it sucked donkey balls. I’d never do that to someone I made a commitment to. I’d get a divorce first.

  and

  2.) It was insulting to Roxie, making her out like she was the other woman, a woman I had to hide a relationship with. Roxie was better than that.

  Tiff tried to prove I was being unfaithful, but she came up empty every single time. Even though my wife thought I was so low as to actually cheat on her, it didn’t make me want to go out and prove her right. That kind of shit was childish.

  Instead, out of respect for her, I didn’t date at all. I told myself I would wait until everything was finalized before I so much as had a coffee with another woman.

  It wasn’t easy. Seeing her every day, knowing she was single, and basically rolling the dice that she would stay that way until I could get my shit in order.

  Instead of driving myself crazy over the things I couldn’t have, I started getting things in place. A plan, if you will. The past several months, I’d been working on something new and it was finally coming together.

  All I’d been waiting on was a green light, and Sherman just gave it to me.

  5

  Roxie

  Rain plastered what was left of my dry parts (i.e. my hair), and when I rushed through the door of the Mad Hatter, I was greeted by the rush of the air-conditioner. Usually, it was refreshing. Tonight, it caused goose bumps to race across my skin.

  The club wasn’t open yet, but the staff was milling around, getting things ready for the crowd that would surely show up. Harlow was off tonight, but Cam was behind the bar, wearing his usual uniform. Black dress pants, no shirt, and a bow tie. On his head was a black fedora that covered his surfer dude blond hair.

  I liked Cam a lot. And I figured seeing him behind the bar was a sign.

  A sign that I did indeed need a shot.

  When I told myself I was taking a shot behind the bar earlier, I hadn’t really meant it. And then I had my run-in with Craig. I knew Cam wouldn’t say shit, so I figured it was a sign I really did need one.

  I dumped my duffle on a nearby barstool and stepped behind the bar. Cam looked up from the glasses he was stacking. “Hey, Roxie.”

  “Hey.”

  “Everything okay?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on my face. Most girls probably wouldn’t have noticed the narrowed eyes; they’d be too distracted by all the muscle on display, but not me. I didn’t check out my best friend’s guy. And I tended to look in the places people least suspected. It’s how you learned things.

  “Not counting the fact the rain ruined my hair?” I said lightly. “I’m good.”

  Cam grinned. “I need to grab a bottle of Jack out of the back. Watch the bar for me?”

  “Of course.” I waved him off.

  When he was gone, I grabbed the nearest shot glass and the bottle of vodka. I threw it back in one great swallow. It burned going down, and my eyes watered. I wasn’t new to drinking, far from it, but doing shots still felt the same.

  I felt the alcohol burst into my belly and a gentle fire burned through my middle. Quickly, I dropped the glass into the sink and turned to put the bottle back.

  “Roxie!” Adam bellowed. “Get your ass in here!”

  I winced. Had he seen?

  Quickly, I slid the bottle back home and rushed around the bar to grab my bag. As soon as I slid the strap over my shoulder, I looked up. He was lounging in his office door, watching me.

  I felt squirmy, and it was so not the vodka.

  It was him.

  Adam wasn’t handsome. He was sexy. He wasn’t the kind of guy who took your breath away with his stunning good looks. Adam was the kind of man who took over your thoughts, who owned them. He was the kind of guy who could make a girl like me forget I didn’t want a man. He was all alpha male; he exuded strength. He exuded intimidation.

  He was gruff, he didn’t mince words, and he didn’t talk pretty.

  But I could see beneath all that. I could see beneath his mask.

  Deep down, Adam was a giant softie. I don’t even know if he knew it. But I did.

  So even when he bellowed my name and stared at me like I was in trouble, I wasn’t scared. I don’t think I could ever be scared of Adam.

  He was wearing khaki dress pants, and even the loose fabric couldn’t disguise the thick muscles in his thighs. His white dress shirt was rolled up just below his elbows and open at the throat to reveal a thick neck that gave way to a strong jaw. He had wide cheekbones that slashed across his face, olive-toned skin that always looked tan, wide-set eyes the color of melted chocolate, and dark hair that was buzzed close to his head.

  His top lip was shaped like a cupid’s bow, and it was currently pulled down in a frown as I walked closer. Adam slid out of the doorway and stepped back, permitting me into his office and shutting the door behind me.

  “Hey, I—” I started to apologize immediately. Yeah, this was a strip club, and I was a stripper, but it was still my job. Taking shots behind the bar wasn’t professional.

  “I want to talk to you,” he said, cutting me off.

  Wasn’t he going to yell at me for the vodka?

  “Okay,” I said, dropping my bag near the door. The A/C clicked on and a gust of cold air floated down from the ceiling. I suppressed the urge to shiver. It seemed wrong to be so cold when it was so hot outside.

  I stepped farther into the room, out from beneath the vent.

  Adam leaned over his desk and snagged something off the back of his chair. He turned back and stared at me. “You look like a drowned cat.”

  “It’s raining,” I snapped.

  Briefly, his eyes traveled over my body, and I became very aware that my light-colored sundress was probably see-through from the rain and that my nipples were painfully hard from the cold.

  Instead of leering at me like every other man would and did, his eyes snapped back up to my face and he stepped closer. Automatically, I inhaled, just as I always did when he was close. His scent was intoxicating. It was by far my favorite. Sort of woodsy, deep with a hint of spice. It lingered in my nose even after I breathed out.

  The warmth from his large frame radiated around me as he shook out what he was holding and draped it around my shoulders. I glanced down, taken by surprise. I’d been too busy being distracted by his closeness to notice what he was doing.

  “You’re gonna freeze, Rox,” he murmured as he wrapped his jacket around me. “C’mon, slip your arms through.”

  I did so automatically, hoping his scent would stick to my skin and linger there the rest of the night.

  It was ridiculously large, the jacket on my frame. The fabric engulfed me, falling well past my fingers, down my legs, and hanging off my shoulders. Adam grunted and pulled it closer around me. “I didn’t realize you were so small,” he murmured.

  “That’s because I have a big mouth.”

  He chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth?”

  He pulled away. I was slightly disappointed. Turns out I didn’t need vodka. Just the sound of his laugh. The door yanked open with force. Adam was silent maybe two seconds. Then he began issuing orders.

  “Amber! Take Roxie’s first dance,” he barked.

  “No,” I protested behind him.

  He ignored me.

>   “I need a towel, Cam. A big one.” He kept right on yelling.

  The door shut once more.

  “What the hell, Adam?” I said. “I can do my own dances.”

  “Relax. I’ll cover whatever money you lose. I wanna talk to you.”

  I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. It was hard to be annoyed when his jacket was so warm. “So talk.”

  The door to the office opened, and Cam stuck in his head. He held up the towel, and Adam motioned for it. Cam threw it inside, and he snatched it out of the air.

  Cam left us alone again.

  “Here,” Adam said, letting the towel fall open. He held it out, and as I moved to take it, he changed course and used the corner of the fabric to brush beneath my lip.

  “You wanna explain to me why your lip is bleeding?” he asked, shifting closer.

  “I bit it,” I replied, not offering more of an explanation.

  “Why are you so wet?”

  “It’s raining.”

  He gave me a no-shit look and lifted his eyebrow, prompting me for a better explanation.

  “I had to get gas.”

  He sighed. “Here.”

  I took the towel and began to dry my dripping hair.

  Adam went back around his desk and sat in his chair. I often thought of it as the king’s chair, because Adam was definitely the king of the Mad Hatter.

  Once my hair was towel-dried, I slipped off my soaked flats and kicked them aside. My feet were sopping, so I dried them and the rest of my legs. My arms and upper body were warm thanks to Adam’s jacket, so I hung the towel over the back of the chair on this side of the desk and pulled my brush from my bag.

  I sat in the chair with the towel and began combing out the mess on my head. “What do you want to talk to me about?” I asked curiously.