“Yeah, but that was before, plus he’s not a jerk to you. And he’s so hot, he can be a jerk and it would still be okay.”
“Gwen,” I groan.
“What? You know it’s true. Did you meet him at work?”
“At work, no. I met him the night we went to the club. He was the guy behind me you were talking about.”
“Shut up!” she cries. “You told me you didn’t even talk to him.”
“I didn’t. We ran into each other at Tractor Supply a few days later.”
“That’s weird. Why did you act like you didn’t know who he was if he was your boss?”
“My boss? Rafe wasn’t my boss.” I watch him set his silverware on the table slowly and go very still.
“Huh, Jay told me he owns The Dollhouse and a bunch of other clubs. That’s why we went there.” I hear what Gwen is saying, but it doesn’t make any sense. Rafe told me Winger owns the club, right?
“Yeah, that’s weird. I never saw him there.” My voice is flat. Rafe lays his hand over my thigh as if he’s stopping me from getting up.
“He probably saw you dance and fell inlove,” she singsongs, and my stomach drops.
“Just a minute, Ma,” I say loudly enough for Gwen to hear me, but not Mom. “Listen, I need to go. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Promise? I need details. I know you let him—”
“Gotta go, bye.” I hang up before she can finish.
“Lucy,” Rafe growls, and my name sounds like a warning.
I set the phone on the table calmly and look over at him. I don’t even know for certain if what she said is true, but it feels like it is. I feel dirty and ashamed. “Is it true?”
Rafe moves his tongue behind his lips as if he’s licking his teeth. “What?” he asks, even though there’s no need.
“You own The Dollhouse.” I don’t phrase it as a question because it’s not one. Slowly, a few memories filter through my thoughts. Lola mentioning the elusive boss—whom I never saw—whom they were always trying to impress, sometimes using Winger to do so. The name Rex being mentioned the last night I worked. “Damn, I’m pretty dumb.” I laugh, but it’s full of self-loathing.
“You are not dumb.” Rafe scowls at me.
“What was this? Bag the virgin stripper?” I’m getting loud, but I don’t really care right now.
“Watch your mouth,” Rafe grates out between his teeth.
“Or what?” I lean forward. It’s stupid, but I’m hurting and I don’t care. Besides, it’s better than collapsing into a mess of tears from embarrassment. Rafe knowing I worked there is so much different than him seeing me dance, and he would have had to. Otherwise, it makes no sense how he could have avoided me for two fucking years.
His lips tighten into a thin line, but he doesn’t answer my question. “Are you going to walk to my car or am I carrying you? If your mother calls the cops because you’re screaming, it will go badly.”
I lean back and huff. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“If you think that’s even close to the truth, you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.” He’s seriously calm, and it’s infuriating.
“I’m not leaving with you.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare.
“Then you better march your ass up those stairs or into the barn, unless you’re ready for your mother to get an earful.” There’s a shift in his gaze. His pupils dilate, making the gray nearly impossible to see. His passive exterior is cracking a little.
He’s right though—I do know he will carry me out of here, even if I’m kicking and screaming. I shove the chair back and stomp over to the entryway. When I jerk the door open, a beep sounds. Rafe leans past me, brushing his chest against my back, and enters the five-digit code for the alarm. He must have watched me enter it when he arrived and memorized it. Sneaky bugger.
I try to walk out of the door, but Rafe grabs my arm and hauls me back. “Shoes,” he demands. I rip my arm away and slide my flats on while he steps into his boots, not bothering to tie them. I think about how it gives me an advantage. He wouldn’t be able to chase me like that, but it’s not like I plan on running from him anyway.
“Got your keys? You’ll be leaving after,” I taunt. Rafe doesn’t even pretend to care what I said, instead he motions to the door, urging me to go ahead of him. Damn, I want him to fight with me so I can be mad enough to make him leave. I don’t want to listen to his excuses, because I know I’m weak and will crumble if he says the right thing.
