“Hey,handsome, they’re playing your song,” the bartender shouted as he slid onto anopen stool. “Your usual?” She was already reaching for the Breckenridge bottle.
“Housepour,” he barked.
Sheraised a dark eyebrow and reached for the Jim Beam.
Heransacked his brain for her name. She looked like a young Iman, but her namewas something altogether different. He’d partied with her. You’d think he couldremember.
“Lexa?”another bartender called. Lexa. Thank you. He glanced at a young womanbeside him whose gaze traveled from his eyes to his shoes and back up again. Aslow, seductive smile spread over her face. Beyond her were two more women whosmiled the same way. Were any of them old enough to be here? He pushed asidethe thought that he was too old.
Heraised two fingers in a peace sign. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down,relieved to see the text he’d been waiting for. Got home ok. He textedAndie back and stuffed his phone in his pocket.
Lexadelivered his drink and took the women’s orders. The first one leaned her backagainst the bar, sticking her tits out, tossing her dark hair. She was dressedlike a high-class hooker. Maybe not that high-class.
“I’mJade.”
“BeckettMiller.” He raised his glass in a toast.
Shepushed off from the bar. “The ex-hockey player?”
Ouch.That stings. “Yeah,I play hockey. Can I buy you and your friends a drink?”
Sheshook her head. “Maybe later. Thanks anyway.”
Lexaplaced three pink drinks on the bar and nodded somewhere across the room—towhoever was buying this round, no doubt. The girls grabbed their cocktails andleft without a backward glance at Beckett.
Lexashrugged. “They’re hunting big game tonight.”
“Jesus,you sure know how to make a guy feel like shit.”
Shegrinned. “So you’ll buy more liquor from me.”
“I’dbuy more liquor if I had three women hanging on me, and I’d also tip you betterthan I’m going to.” He pivoted on the stool to see what “big game” looked like,and his eyes snapped to a petite redhead. His pulse shot into overdrive. Herback was to him, and as he was checking her out, a man handed her a drink andput his arm around her. She turned and smiled at her companion. Not Andie.
Ofcourse not.
Forsome unfathomable reason, Beckett scanned the club for small women with auburnhair. The few he spotted weren’t Andie either. Even if she weren’t married, hewouldn’t find her at a place like this.
Beckettordered another drink and watched the gamesmanship around the dance floor, atthe tables, the bar. This was usually a scene he was part of, not one hespectated, and it didn’t take much to understand every desperate move, everyglance from one lonely human trying to connect to another. This view rattledhim.
Lexainterrupted his thoughts. “I’m off in an hour. We could pose as a couple andhit the Velvet Lounge.”
Beckettswiveled his head slowly, taking in Lexa’s sly smile. The Velvet Lounge was notthe club’s real name. Beckett wasn’t sure it had a real name, but it was whatpeople familiar with its brand of entertainment called the hookup club. Singlemen weren’t welcome. At all. What Lexa offered was a chance to get in by posingas the male half of a couple—the acceptable type of man. Once inside, he’d befree to take advantage of what was offered. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Youinto swinging?” he said.
“Girls only,baby. And I like to watch.”
Hesipped his drink slowly, sordid bits of his past streaking through his mindlike the lights on the dance floor.
“Thanks,Lexa, but not tonight. Cash me out, okay?”
Beckettclimbed into his truck and looked at his phone. Almost two. Way too late. Heshouldn’t call anyway, even if he could invent a good reason. Andie would thinkhe was a loon. He probably was.
Heexhaled noisily and stared through his windshield, tapping his thumb on hissteering wheel. Then he looked at the phone again, pulled up a map app andentered an address. Within fifteen minutes, he was cruising a dark street inDenver’s Mayfair neighborhood, searching house numbers. When he found what hewas looking for, he drove by, turned around, parked on the opposite side, andkilled his engine and lights.
Mayfairwas an older area popular with the city’s trendy folk. Lots of homes here wereway higher on the fancy-o-meter than the one he studied right now: a modest,mid-century, single-story brick house set back from the road. A curving pathled to a light blue front door tucked under a porch cover. A single lightblazed beside it, but otherwise the house was dark. It looked like Andie, likesomeplace she’d live. Easygoing, inviting. Normal.
Hebegan muttering to himself. “How safe is this place? Too many bushes by thewindows where some crazy stalker could hide. Doesn’t Adrian Asswipe give ashit? Leaving his wife unprotected like that? She needs a big, mean dog. Or agun. I could teach her to shoot.”
Momentslater, it occurred to him that he was acting like a crazy stalker, so hewent home and poured himself copious amounts of cheap bourbon. Maybe then hecould get a certain married redhead off his mind.
CHAPTER 10
Where Did Our Love Go
Paige stood over Claudia’s trash bin, pulling silkyfilaments from corn cobs. Claudia caught her eye and smiled. “I’m so gladyou’re here, Paige.”
Paigelet out a laugh. “Beckett said you wouldn’t let him in otherwise.”
Claudiaslid a peach pie from the oven, inspected it, and slid it back in again. Itsmelled heavenly.
“Tenmore minutes,” she declared. “He and Marty go way back, so he’ll probablyalways be in our lives in one form or another. Deep down, Beckett’s a good guy.There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for a friend. I think he’s guilty of believinghis own press sometimes, and he gets in his own way, like a puppy whose feetare too big. I’m glad to see you two spending time together.”
Alarmed,Paige nearly dropped the ear into the trash, feeling like a naughty kid who’d beencaught being … well, naughty. “Oh, it’s not like that!
