As though his feet had a mind of their own, he’d stopped in the middle of the bar. The position gave him a clear line of sight to the stage. He was so weak he couldn’t even force himself to miss her performance.
He wanted her to bomb as much as he wanted her to shine.
A vague memory hit him of her and Alanis dancing and doing cartwheels in his parents’ backyard. She’d been great then, and gorgeous, too, but he hadn’t given that a second thought. Watching her execute a series of flips on the horizontal, metal bar in time to the hard-hitting opening guitar riffs of the song - it knocked him off-kilter. Her hair, those eyes, and her athleticism - she was stunning. His chest constricted and he felt winded.
Shit.
She was too fuckin’ good to be stripping.
Tundra sidled up to him half-way through the song. “Love it when I’m right.”
Punc couldn’t tear his eyes from Savannah twirling around the pole in the center of the stage. “Right about what?”
“I know when someone’s gonna hit from their song choice alone.”
Punc blew out a breath. “We’ve had other chicks audition to this and have epic failures.”
Tundra chuckled. “Well, she’s fuckin’ crushing it, man. She could tell me one and one makes three any day.”
Three fights brewed inside Punc at that moment: fighting against his cock getting hard (made worse after she flung her top off), fighting the need to haul Savannah off stage, and fighting the urge to punch his brother in the mouth. With that much conflict raging, he did the only thing he could do, and got the hell out of the room.
Half an hour later, the busywork he’d taken on wasn’t enough to keep him from hearing Savannah’s number get called to the stage. Then, he heard the announcement that the even numbered girls were hired. Three-zero-eight-two was even. Not what he (or she) needed.
In the back hallway, Punc broke down cardboard boxes and timed it right to take the cardboard out when the newly-hired dancers hit the parking lot.
After a quick stop at the dumpster, he followed Savannah to a small vehicle marked with a cleaning company’s logo.
“Congratulations, Smythe,” he said, cornering her at the car.
Her shoulders lowered and he heard her let out a breath before she turned to him.
Her brown eyes were questioning and slightly heated. “Thanks, Puncture. But I wonder if you really mean it.”
He leaned a shoulder against the back driver’s side window. “If you wanted to dance, I’d mean it. But there’s something wrong here. Why are you dancing?”
Deep down, he wanted to get to know her again, and fuck him, he wanted to see that heated look in her eyes again when he said her name. Only this time, if he got his way, he’d see it just before he kissed her. The more she stared at him, the more he wanted that kiss, but there were cameras on the lot - even during the day.
Her lips quirked like she didn’t want to share. “Mom died almost two months ago. Money’s tight. I’m legal guardian of Catalina - so, this should help bring in more cash and…it seems I might be good at it.”
“Too fuckin’ good at it,” he muttered.
“What was that?” she asked.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “A woman like you has no business here.”
She crossed her arms. “That’s not for you to say, Ted. I haven’t seen you since Dalton’s birthday party.” She paused. “As fast as you came and went, I can’t believe you care.”
He sighed and moved closer. “I’d never let Alanis on that stage. I shouldn’t have let you up there either.”
“Ted—”
“Punc,” he corrected her. A thought struck him when he mentioned his sister’s name. “Does Alanis know you’re here?”
“No,” she snapped, panic lacing her tone.
His head twisted. “You two don’t have secrets.”
She shot him a devious smile. “I’ll tell her now that I’ve officially got the job.”
