about talking to him.
Wasn’t like they were serious or anything.
“Thanks, Hugh.” Angel passed the credit card and receipt over. Shoot, even her face hurt from pasting on so many smiles tonight. Not that she was complaining, mind you. She loved when business was good. She was just bone-deep tired.
Julie nudged her and tilted her chin toward the stage. “These girls are crazy-stupid over that boy.”
Following the direction of Julie’s gaze, Angel watched as Troy Lee and Clark Dempsey, the EMT who played drums for the small group, were waylaid by a little blonde and a willowy brunette, both in their very early twenties. The blonde giggled and held out a permanent marker in Troy Lee’s direction. While he uncapped it, she tugged down the already low vee of her T-shirt, exposing the rounded curve of her upper breast and the edge of a lacy red bra.
“Oh my God.” Julie laughed, a puffing, choked titter. “Did he just sign her boob?”
“He sure did.” To Angel’s relief, her voice came out normal after fighting its way past the tsunami of possessive pique swamping her. The blonde graced Clark with the opportunity to autograph her other breast and the brunette touched Troy Lee’s arm, rubbing her palm over his biceps as she flirted. With a smile, he extricated himself from the contact.
Angel swallowed hard. Darn it, this whole scenario shouldn’t kick her in the chest the way it did. They were friends and she didn’t own him. Besides, she knew what it was like to be passed over in favor of a younger, more desirable woman.
The brunette snagged the marker from Clark as he finished his signature with a flourish. With a sultry flutter of her lashes, she passed it to Troy Lee and turned her back on him, hitching the waistline of her hip-riding jeans down just a bit to provide him room to sign the small of her back. The thin pink strand of a rhinestone-dusted thong rested across her hip above the faded denim. Eyebrows raised, Troy Lee exchanged a look with Clark but bent to scrawl his name across the smooth skin just the same.
Angel pulled her gaze from the tableau. As the club’s patrons trickled out, she buried herself closing out tabs, tallying receipts and disbursing charged tips to servers.
Behind her, wood clattered on the polished bar. “Hey.”
She tensed at Troy Lee’s voice, the rich tones sliding over her like caressing fingers. She schooled her features and turned to face him. “Hey yourself.”
She laid her paperwork out on the bar and tried not to look at him. His hair stood up in damp spikes and his shirt clung, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin. Lord help her, she could smell him, a blend of spicy deodorant, male sweat and musky warmth that kicked off images of hard sweaty sex and writhing bodies. Ooh, her hands wrapped around her footboard while he pumped into her from behind… Her belly clenched on a fluttering of arousal.
She clamped down on the reactions by dragging up the picture of the brunette touching him, of his hand at her hip while he autographed her skin. He swiped a wrist over his damp forehead and she reached for his customary Corona. Silence stretched while she wrapped up the day’s reconciliation and he sipped at the beer.
Julie returned from supervising cleanup and patted Troy Lee’s shoulder. “Starting your own fan club?”
He grimaced and took a long pull. “I guess.”
Julie laughed and wandered into the kitchen. The picture of his touching the girl flashed in Angel’s head again, bringing that breath-stealing wave of jealousy with it. Angel separated ones into stacks of fifty, rubber banded them and stuck them in the bank bag. “You don’t have to hang around here, you know.”
He stopped with the bottle halfway to his lips. “I always stay to make sure y’all get out okay.”
“We’re fine.”
His brows lowered, eyes narrowed. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“Of course not.” The small laugh she produced held sufficient scoffing. “I just
Wasn’t like they were serious or anything.
“Thanks, Hugh.” Angel passed the credit card and receipt over. Shoot, even her face hurt from pasting on so many smiles tonight. Not that she was complaining, mind you. She loved when business was good. She was just bone-deep tired.
Julie nudged her and tilted her chin toward the stage. “These girls are crazy-stupid over that boy.”
Following the direction of Julie’s gaze, Angel watched as Troy Lee and Clark Dempsey, the EMT who played drums for the small group, were waylaid by a little blonde and a willowy brunette, both in their very early twenties. The blonde giggled and held out a permanent marker in Troy Lee’s direction. While he uncapped it, she tugged down the already low vee of her T-shirt, exposing the rounded curve of her upper breast and the edge of a lacy red bra.
“Oh my God.” Julie laughed, a puffing, choked titter. “Did he just sign her boob?”
“He sure did.” To Angel’s relief, her voice came out normal after fighting its way past the tsunami of possessive pique swamping her. The blonde graced Clark with the opportunity to autograph her other breast and the brunette touched Troy Lee’s arm, rubbing her palm over his biceps as she flirted. With a smile, he extricated himself from the contact.
Angel swallowed hard. Darn it, this whole scenario shouldn’t kick her in the chest the way it did. They were friends and she didn’t own him. Besides, she knew what it was like to be passed over in favor of a younger, more desirable woman.
The brunette snagged the marker from Clark as he finished his signature with a flourish. With a sultry flutter of her lashes, she passed it to Troy Lee and turned her back on him, hitching the waistline of her hip-riding jeans down just a bit to provide him room to sign the small of her back. The thin pink strand of a rhinestone-dusted thong rested across her hip above the faded denim. Eyebrows raised, Troy Lee exchanged a look with Clark but bent to scrawl his name across the smooth skin just the same.
Angel pulled her gaze from the tableau. As the club’s patrons trickled out, she buried herself closing out tabs, tallying receipts and disbursing charged tips to servers.
Behind her, wood clattered on the polished bar. “Hey.”
She tensed at Troy Lee’s voice, the rich tones sliding over her like caressing fingers. She schooled her features and turned to face him. “Hey yourself.”
She laid her paperwork out on the bar and tried not to look at him. His hair stood up in damp spikes and his shirt clung, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin. Lord help her, she could smell him, a blend of spicy deodorant, male sweat and musky warmth that kicked off images of hard sweaty sex and writhing bodies. Ooh, her hands wrapped around her footboard while he pumped into her from behind… Her belly clenched on a fluttering of arousal.
She clamped down on the reactions by dragging up the picture of the brunette touching him, of his hand at her hip while he autographed her skin. He swiped a wrist over his damp forehead and she reached for his customary Corona. Silence stretched while she wrapped up the day’s reconciliation and he sipped at the beer.
Julie returned from supervising cleanup and patted Troy Lee’s shoulder. “Starting your own fan club?”
He grimaced and took a long pull. “I guess.”
Julie laughed and wandered into the kitchen. The picture of his touching the girl flashed in Angel’s head again, bringing that breath-stealing wave of jealousy with it. Angel separated ones into stacks of fifty, rubber banded them and stuck them in the bank bag. “You don’t have to hang around here, you know.”
He stopped with the bottle halfway to his lips. “I always stay to make sure y’all get out okay.”
“We’re fine.”
His brows lowered, eyes narrowed. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“Of course not.” The small laugh she produced held sufficient scoffing. “I just
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