Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“Great!” Mink grabbed a glob of goop from her slicker, popped it in her mouth, and rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “Mmmm…spicy!”
Nasty. What is that stuff? Jac winced.
“See you after the show, Red.” Mink turned to walk away. “And keep your shirt on this time!”
Jac’s heart began to race, realizing what she was in for. Screaming. Inexplicable indecent thoughts. Insanity. Losing her clothes.
“I just want to know one thing,” Jac called out. “What the hell are you pumping in the air?”
Mink flashed a grin over her shoulder. “Pure magic, baby. Pure magic.”
“Meow!”
Jac looked down to find the same kitten from earlier. “Heebie?”
He rubbed his face on the leg of her jeans.
“What were you doing onstage earlier, huh?” She scooped him up and took the kitten behind the bar. “If you know what’s good for you, little guy, you’ll stay here until my shift ends. Then I’ll find you a good home, because this place is crazy.”
She grabbed a shallow dish used to salt margarita glasses and filled it with half and half from the fridge. She placed it on the floor by her feet. “There you go, kitty.”
The cat looked at her, jumped up on the back counter, and went straight to the whiskey section.
She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t blame you.”
“What the hell are you doing with my cat?” growled a deep voice.
Startled, Jac jumped in place and gasped.
Standing on the other side of the counter was none other than Dash in a white robe, his shockingly blue eyes laser-focused on the kitten.
Sadly, Dash was even better looking up close with that chiseled jawline and smoldering gaze.
“Say what?” she said.
“You heard me.”
Jac shook off the effects of his looks and restarted her brain. “Yeah, I did, stripper boy. That’s why I’m giving you a chance to explain, because it sounded like you were accusing me of doing something to this kitten—one that shouldn’t be here to begin with. The music is way too loud.”
Dash narrowed his eyes. “He likes it.”
“Oh really? He tell you that?”
“Maybe,” Dash said coldly.
“Okay, well, I speak kitten, too, and he just told me he wants a safe, warm home that won’t make him deaf.”
Dash chuckled. “Pfft. Like most women, you know nothing.”
Wow. Woooow… “Says a man who takes his pants off in a club that pumps vaporized roofies in the air so the audience empties their wallets.”
His plump lips crawled into a slow snarl, and he leaned in close, bowing his tall frame over the bar. “Careful, or you’ll end up vaporized, too. Now give me some water.” He looked at the cat. “He’ll have a shot of Fireball.”
Hell no would she give alcohol to a kitten. It would kill him. Obviously, the guy had to be testing her. Like a fat dick.
Suddenly, an image of a large, plump penis, belonging to a particular male stripper wearing a black Speedo, flashed in her mind. Crap. Did I just think about the chubby roll in Dash’s pants?
No. Not going there. I do not, nor will I ever, want a man for his body. All she wanted was a man who stood up like one. For her. For himself. For her fur babies, scaly babies, and feathered babies. Basically for anyone who needed standing up for.
She grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the hand-operated soda dispenser, and set it on the counter. She then poured a shot of flaming hot cinnamon whiskey and threw it back with a smile.
“Now fuck off,” she said. “And if I see that kitten anywhere near a speaker again, I’ll call animal control. Got it?”
He was about to open his mouth and dish what would surely be a word salad containing crunchy sprinkles made of pompous hyperbole, but Heebie jumped onto her shoulder and began purring against the side of her head.
That cat really liked her. “See. The cat agrees.” She folded her arms over her chest.
Dash’s plump lips flattened into a hard line. “You’re lucky my kitty likes you.”
“That makes one of us.” Her kitty was hissing big time.
“Don’t push it, bar wench. Now hand me my cat.”
Wench? Did he think medieval slang would send her cowering? She lived with wild beasts—lions and tigers and bears. Oh yes. Lizards and poisonous snakes and a boar. Give me more.
“Think you scare me?” She laughed. “I bet you’ve never been attacked by an alligator.” Of course, Herman had no teeth, but it still hurt like a son of a gum.
Dash was about to speak, but then he looked at the cat like he expected it to say something.
“Well?” she prodded.
Dash snapped his mouth shut and strutted away.
“That’s right. You keep on walking, stud muffin!” she bellowed. “It’s all you’re good for, anyway.” She blew out a breath and hugged Heebie to her chest. “You’re coming home with me tonight. This is no place for us decent animals.”