Stripped Love (Guys Next Door #1) - Baylin Crow Page 0,28

the fork in his mouth.

Who even mentioned serious? I kept the thought to myself.

I shoveled more pancakes in my mouth and then forced a change of topic. "How do you like your new job?"

CJ set down his fork and took a swallow of his coffee. "It's fine, I guess. Just tagging along with my dad to help him repair an old house some lady had willed to her."

"How come Caleb doesn't have to help?"

Caleb scoffed with a mouthful of eggs, and I shuddered. "Have you seen me try to use tools?"

CJ grimaced. "We're kind of glad he doesn't want to, honestly. Better hope the NBA comes calling."

Caleb scowled and his fork clattered against his plate. "Fuck you, Corey Joe."

I snorted and we all broke out laughing. We talked about school and what summer plans we all had. The party they were throwing that weekend and me once again declining.

As we were leaving the diner, CJ paused on the sidewalk and gripped my shoulder. "Be careful, Arch. We'd hate to have to figure out how to hide a body if he hurts you."

With that parting statement, I watched as they jumped in the Jeep and the engine roared to life.

Caleb's window rolled down, tilted his head, and shouted, "No glove, no love, Arch!"

People swiveled their heads in our direction, and an elderly couple walked by with the absolute worst timing and shot me a disapproving look. Mortified, I covered my face and hissed, "I hate you so much, Caleb."

He howled in laughter, and CJ pretended to beat his head against the steering wheel before shrugging. "He's a lost cause, but we're stuck with him. Text me later."

The window rolled up, and the Jeep peeled away from the curb, merging into the stream of cars.

As I stared after them, I realized they had a point. I ran my hands through my hair. The last thing I wanted to think about was Phoenix in a private room with another guy, but I had to. I was dangerously walking a line of feeling too much too soon. And I had no idea where Phoenix's head was at about us. But if I couldn't handle just thinking about it, then I needed to set expectations for myself. Ones where clear, defined lines kept me from getting hurt.

I had hours before the shop opened and I needed a distraction, so I chose to visit a new stationary store I'd seen a block over on the drive through town. I spent half an hour browsing the shelves, and then armed with new notebooks and ideas, I headed home.

7

Phoenix

Covered in a light sheen of sweat, I swiped the scattered pieces of my discarded costume from the darkened stage and left the roaring Saturday night crowd behind. Wearing only my neon green jockstrap—a crowd pleaser that was responsible for many of my paid bills—I made my way to the dressing room.

Scented oils and sweat hung in the air as I wove around the other dancers in various stages of undress. They were either getting ready for their next set or to circulate the main floor to tempt men—and women—into handing over their hard-earned cash for three minutes of undivided attention.

I tossed my outfit in the laundry bin and then threw open my locker. Grabbing my water bottle, I chugged it down to ease my parched throat. The stage lights were no joke, and by the end of a single song, I was ready for a damn ice bath.

The echoing sound of the guys fucking around and the rustle of clothing were a welcome reprieve from the hammer of pounding music that played through the main room. I loved my music loud, but hours of nonstop bass left a dull ringing in my ears.

Unfortunately, I would only be afforded a short break before my rotation around the main floor would begin. It was better than private room dances, so I couldn't complain.

Pulling the cash from underneath my matching neon armband, I counted out enough to pay the nightly house fee and set it aside before discretely shoving the rest into an empty cigarette pack and hiding it under my folded jeans.

I didn’t bother to count the rest. I already knew I made enough to pay half my monthly rent. Friday and Saturday nights were my bread and butter.

While I was rifling through my outfits, the locker next to mine clanged shut, and Damon leaned against it. Wearing a loose pair of unbuttoned camo pants, he invaded my space. “You interested