Page 11 of The Smoke Hour

“Nope, not today.”

“Where you heading to, girl?” she called after me.

“Exercise!” I shouted over my shoulder.

Everyone was so damn nosy today. Why couldn’t they mind their own business?

My nerves tightened in my belly after ten minutes when I could see the sign of The Smoke Hour just up the street a little. I prayed that that man would not be there. The last thing that I wanted was to see him again after embarrassing myself.

Not only had I been a little bit tipsy, but I’d literally and figuratively shown my ass. Then to top it all off, I’d damn near cum on myself from a kiss in his office.

But he could kiss so well, and he smelled so good.

I pulled the doors open and noticed there was no one at the front desk. My heart soared as I slipped past the front desk andheaded back into the area where I had last seen my shoes. There were some men in there, but the dancers weren’t.

All the men who were there were busy on laptops or having deep conversations. Everything appeared to be business-related, and they all had either lunch plates, drinks, or both. There were a few waitresses around.

I headed to the back where we sat, but I couldn’t locate my shoes.

“Excuse me.” I rushed to a waitress who passed by me.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know, but I was in here a few nights ago—”

“I know. I remember you. Listen, I’m not getting into trouble by entertaining whatever shenanigans you’re on.”

“I’m not trying to get you into trouble. I just came back because I left a pair of black heels here that night, and I wanted to get them back.”

“I can’t help you. I haven’t seen them,” she replied with a shrug.

I doubted that she would tell me the truth, even if she had seen them. Hell, once she realized what they were, she probably took them home, knowing her big-footed ass couldn’t fit into them.

I huffed out a sigh and quickly walked toward the front of the room, checking beside the chairs as I went. Once I confirmed that they weren’t in here, I headed back out toward the front.

My stomach twisted in knots as I neared the office area. I noticed the night before that there was a large door marked “Administrative Offices.”

My guess was that if anyone did turn them in, this was where they would have brought them. Yet, before I could knock on the door, I heard that voice behind me.

“Sweets. You’re back for another round,” he stated with a smooth chuckle.

The voice that was as rich and smooth as a fine eighty-proof bourbon going down washed over me, giving me all the warm euphoria that consuming a fine glass of bourbon would do. It also made me realize that I was still hungover from that sensual kiss he laid on me.

I spun around quickly.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came back looking for my shoes.”

“I did notice that you weren’t wearing any that night. Is that a fetish or something?”

“No. I simply forgot them after I had removed them to dance.”

“My girls usually keep their shoes on when they perform. But I guess we can do something with that. The barefooted beauty.”

“I didn’t come here to banter with you. I simply want my shoes, and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

He stepped closer, and I took two steps back. He stepped close again and grabbed my chin.

“My hair wasn’t what you got into that night, sweets.”

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