Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Glass shattered.
Close enough to Skylar that she flinched away from the sound, only to realize it was Madden’s beer glass. That it had broken right there in his hand. She stared at him in shock, before gaping at the stage. What to address first? The fact that Madden apparently didn’t know his own strength? Or the fact that Eve was performing—something she claimed she would never do?
There she was, however, standing in the center of the spotlight, her waist-length blond hair covering her breasts, an oversized feather fan shielding her lower body.
Plus a teasing smile—and that was all.
Truthfully, she looked like a mischievous angel. Beautiful. If Eve hadn’t spent their entire friendship vowing she would never perform, because she refused to fulfill the expectations of everyone they’d grown up with—whether they were low or high—Skylar would be thrilled for her. But Skylar recalled all those conversations well. Recalled the relentless bullying Eve had faced at school, due to her father owning the strip club, a source of local vitriol. And so this sudden appearance of her best friend onstage worried her. Not because there was anything wrong with performing burlesque. Even Skylar, who was inexperienced in the art form, had witnessed its empowering and beautiful nature.
No, she was worried because for Eve, performing was out of character.
Unexpected.
Before Skylar could come up with a plan to address both issues confronting her, Madden was off like a shot. One moment, he was slicing through the crowd, the next he was onstage, throwing Eve over his shoulder and continuing through the blue velvet curtain without so much as a hitch in his stride.
Skylar’s drink remained suspended in the air for two more seconds before she plonked it down on the bar and jogged after Madden and Eve, leaping through the curtain to find her best friend glaring at Madden, feather fan clutched to the front of her body.
“How dare you, Mads. How dare you.”
A single word scraped from his throat. “Why?”
No change in expression from Eve. “Because I wanted to.”
Madden made a sound. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Guys . . .” Feeling oddly as though she was interrupting something, Skylar took a few steps in their direction. “Why don’t we go talk in Eve’s office?”
“No,” Eve blurted, eyes widening. A rare glimpse of nerves from her usually deadpan best friend. “No, we can talk here.”
“Why?” Madden asked, gaze narrowing. “What’s in your office?”
Eve said nothing.
A beat passed.
Madden turned on a heel and strode farther backstage, paying no mind to the scattering of scantily clad burlesque dancers, toward the office. He didn’t have far to go, either, only fifteen yards or so and he was nearly ripping the hinges off a door marked “Manager,” while Eve and Skylar hustled forward in his wake.
The last thing Skylar expected to see on the other side of the door was two little kids.
A boy and a girl. Both of them roughly the age of five.
Were they . . . twins? Yes.
One of them played on an iPad, one colored in a Barbie coloring book.
Madden jerked to a stop, as if he’d hit a brick wall.
The kids barely glanced up from their activities at the three newly arrived adults.
Face pale, Eve reached past Madden and closed the office door.
“Are you happy?” Eve wanted to know.
Madden said nothing. Only stared.
“They are my sister’s kids,” Eve said, quiet and firm, visibly keeping herself calm. Poised. “Lark and Landon. They’re mine now.”
“Eve . . .” Madden sputtered. “How?”
“It’s a long story and I don’t have time to tell it tonight.” She caught Skylar’s eye and Skylar watched a shadow of guilt dance across Eve’s expression. Because of her tone, maybe. Or because major life changes had obviously taken place and she hadn’t even called her best friend. Whatever the reason for her guilt, Eve visibly forced herself to soften, though she refused to look at Madden. “I’m selling this place to take care of them. There’s a prospective buyer but . . . he’s hesitant. I haven’t had a chance to build the clientele since I turned it into the lounge. I’ve only gotten the doors open, so . . .” She closed her eyes. “I thought if I performed, word would get around. You know every asshole in this town will show up to see me humbled. If that’s what I have to do to get butts in seats, so be it—”
Madden turned and put his fist through a wall.
While this action made Skylar gasp, Eve, weirdly, didn’t seem the least bit surprised. “I’d like you to leave, Mads,” she said after a gulping breath.
The catcher paced one way, then the other, before giving Eve one final, hard look and kicking his way through the emergency exit. Skylar gaped. What was that behavior about?
Skylar was off-balance and worried on Eve’s behalf, but Madden was . . . incensed.