gets back to the ranch in one piece.”
The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk, putting me on alert.
“It’s a good thing our Damo has more than one best man. Just you wait.”
He goes to walk away, but I slip off my stool and grip onto his shirt. “What do you mean? What am I waiting for?”
He tips his head back and laughs, his pupils fully dilated when they land back on mine.
“The fucking strippers, of course!” he hollers, causing the guys around us to all cheer excitedly.
“Damon said no strippers.”
“Everyone says that when their fiancée is around, but no one actually means it.”
I get in his face, needing him to hear me when I say, “Damon meant it, you asshole. No fucking strippers.”
His shoulders tense, and his body goes rigid. “Get the fuck out of my face, Fred.”
The coldness in his tone has me releasing his shirt and stepping back. “This is a bachelor party, and at bachelor parties, there are strippers.” His attention is captured by something over my shoulder, and a manic grin spreads across his face. “But don’t worry, I hired the classy ones. Had them fly in from home.”
Looking over my shoulder, there they are. Five strippers—three of which I recognise, and two I know who’ve been with Damon—are pushing their way through the crowd toward Baz.
Shit. This isn’t going to go down well. The way Baz has been lately, if Damon rejects the strippers, it might send our friend over the edge.
Peering over the tops of heads, I spot Damon with River and Slate, totally unaware of who just walked in. As Baz reaches the strippers, I make it to Damon, and he straightens when he sees me.
“What was your rule on strippers tonight?” I ask, just to be sure.
“That I didn’t want them under any circumstances. Why?”
“Because Baz ordered five of them, and they’ve just arrived. You’ll remember at least two of them,” I warn him.
His face pales. “What the fuck is he playing at?”
“I don’t know, but River and me will sort it out. Don’t worry.”
Jerking my head, I silently tell River to follow me. When I turn around, Baz and the strippers are gone. Probably went to a back room or the toilets to get ready, no doubt. I’m about to ask the barman where they went, but in the next breath, I see Baz standing on the bar with a mic—I presume given to him by someone who works here—calling for everyone’s attention.
“If we push him off, it might knock him out,” River suggests.
I snort, trying not to laugh.
“Come on. Let’s shut this shit down.”
Damon told us earlier he didn’t want strippers, making it perfectly clear he in no way wanted to disrespect Alice the night before their wedding, and I thought we’d all agreed.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Baz bellows. “I have a special treat for you, mainly for our Damo, but I’m sure he’ll share. For one night only in this honkytonk dive bar, five beautiful, exotic dancers are here for you pleasure. And if you ask nicely, they do extras!”
As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse.
“Please welcome Starr, Raquel, Brittany, Rose, and Melody!”
Their own music fills the air, and the crowd parts as the girls strut through from the back. “Where’s our Damon?” Brittany inquires loudly over the cheers. I watch as Damon shrinks behind Slate and Gus.
“Damon, come out and play with us. It’s tonight or never,” Melody singsongs, manoeuvring around the crowd.
River groans. “What the fuck do we do now? As his best men, it’s down to us to sort this for him.”
True. But, a part of me is dying to see Damon Coleman handle five strippers and turn them down.
“Ha! Found you,” Starr purrs, yanking him out into the open.
His teeth are gritted, and his eyes are searching everywhere, no doubt planning his escape. A chair is swung into the middle of the bar, and with Raquel’s help, they force him to sit.
“We should really help him,” River whines.
“Fine.”
As we step forward, Damon takes advantage of Starr and Rachel’s backs being turned. Darting off the chair and into the crowd, he heads straight for us.
“Sort this out,” he heaves, pushing us closer to the strippers.
Shit, like I want to be near them.
Fuck knows what Jamiee will think if she hears I’m entertaining five fucking strippers.
I zero in on Brittany. She’s a cool chick, and the most level-headed out of the five. Yet, I don’t like the smile on her face when she sees