minutes later, and I made sure to wash my hands before we left.
I felt gross.
Not only had I spent most of the night working, and sweating, I’d then had to sit in that hell hole for a couple of hours.
Just as we were walking to Sam’s bike, a loud commotion from the side had both Sam and I turning to survey the crowd of people that were gathered there.
And in the middle of it was Adam.
His back was rippling, and he looked pissed as hell as he used his strong, muscular body to block a hole in the blockades that had been erected in the parking lot sometime after I’d arrived.
“What’s all that about?” I asked, stopping myself from fanning my face at the way Adam looked holding people back with the strength in his body alone.
“You punched a movie star in the face, Amelia,” Sam said. “Did you honestly think that people wouldn’t notice that? Or record it?”
I hadn’t really thought about it at all.
I didn’t know that the man was a fucking movie star.
Not that knowing would’ve stopped me from decking the piece of shit.
“I felt uncomfortable,” I told Sam. “Like seriously, the men were blocking me in. Three huge guys. What did you want me to do? Spread my legs…”
“I wanted you to do exactly what you did,” he growled, stopping me before I could get too offensive. “Fucking asshole. It’ll die down.”
It might.
Or it might not.
There was no telling.
But I could definitely tell I was no longer the favorite person in Kilgore, Texas anymore.
Oh well.
“Take me to my car, please,” I said softly.
Sam did as asked, and just before I got off of his bike, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Amelia,” Sam said.
I’d heard the words before, of course. But not often.
More often I heard other things.
Things like: you’re a pain in my ass, Amelia. Amelia, you need to learn more patience. Amelia, you shouldn’t work at a strip club. I told you so, Amelia. Amelia, you need to learn to fight your own battles. Amelia, why won’t you let us protect you? Amelia, why do you give me heart palpitations?
I grinned at my brother, then, for good measure, I threw myself into his arms and wrapped my arms around him tight.
“Love you,” he rumbled.
“Love you, too,” I replied just before climbing into my car.
He watched me go, his eyes on me the entire way out of the parking lot.
Once getting to the main road, though, I didn’t turn left and head home.
I turned right and headed somewhere completely different.
Somewhere I probably shouldn’t be, but couldn’t stop myself from going.
Chapter 6
Pickle juice. Pickle popsicles. Pickle lip balm. Pickles are a girl’s best friend.
-Text from Adam to Amelia
Adam
The night had been long.
The early morning even longer.
And by the time that I finally got off of my shift—four hours late—the last thing I wanted to do was deal with anybody.
But, as I pulled up at my house and saw an unfamiliar car there, I realized that I would have to.
Getting out, I made my way to the front porch, uncertain what to expect—or who, for that matter.
But the moment that I was close enough, I realized that the woman sitting on my porch swing was welcome.
Quite welcome.
“I used my other car,” she said.
“Your car?” I found myself saying. “You didn’t steal it?”
She snorted. “I’ve already had my foray with the police today,” she said. “I don’t need a reason for another one.”
I grunted and took a seat on the porch swing next to her. “Is this your car, or is the one that you drove to the shoot yours?”
I could hear the laughter in her voice when she said, “They’re both mine. I just don’t leave my other baby in strip club parking lots for hours on end. The Chevelle is a weekend driver, or a weekday driver when I’m not working at a strip joint. That baby draws attention—men’s attention—I don’t want that, nor need that, when I’m walking out to my car alone.”
I felt a sudden surge of anger and protectiveness at the thought of her leaving her place of business by herself—at any time of the day or night.
“Don’t do that anymore,” I murmured softly. “The idea of you walking to your car by yourself isn’t sitting well with me.”
She looked up at me as if to say, ‘aren’t you just too sweet.’
“I’m serious,” I said. “Don’t do that anymore. Especially after the shit that went down today.”
She