Page 83 of Wild For You

It takes me a few seconds to see what he’s pointing at, but it’s there. The transparent circle looks like a logo or a flat screen button—faint and easy to miss. Cash touches it, and the circle lights up blue the same time the bulbs above the mirror switch on. Another press of his finger and the lights go off again. He keeps his finger pressed on the circle for a few seconds after which the mirror slowly slides inward, like a door.

“Not bad,” I say laughing.

I peer through the open space at what turns out to be a stairway to the basement. The light is switched on, bathing the stairs in brightness. Cash leads me downstairs into a vast room, and a small gasp escapes my lips.

The place looks like an underground party room with a bar on the east side. The entire ceiling is made of soft blue LED spots that resemble sparkling stars. It’s all so familiar. I’ve seen this before—maybe in a spa magazine and advert for a luxury home. The design is so stunning it takes my breath away.

“What is this?” I ask, unable to tear my gaze away.

“My very own panic room.”

“You call this a panic room?”

“There’s more.” Cash smiles at me and flips a switch. The walls start to gleam blue, revealing a shimmering, ornamental tapestry.

“Is this where you were hiding every time you wanted to avoid me? No wonder you wouldn’t come out. This is beautiful.”

“It wasn’t personal.”

I glare at him, but I can’t quite be angry. “It wasn’t personal that you avoided me or that you wouldn’t leave this place?”

“Both.” The corners of his lips turn upward. “This is my refuge. Call it my man cave if you will.”

“Your refuge?” I roll my eyes playfully. “You live alone and your house is huge.” My fingers brush over the tapestry. It feels warm to the touch, probably from the light bulbs behind it.

“This is where it all started,” Cash whispers.

“What?”

“The concept for my clubs.”

I turn to regard him. His eyes shimmer dark and as deep as an ocean. I can see his enthusiasm for his work, but there’s something else, too. “You know I own a string of night clubs, right?”

“Your aunt mentioned it.”

He nods. “Good. Then I don’t have to tell you that Club 69…”

Club 69.

Oh, wait.

I scan the open space, taking it in with new eyes. That’s why it looks so familiar. I recognize the lights, the design, everything. Club 69 is a brand with a website and merchandise. I remember reading something about each club making millions a year, and there are a whole lot of them.

Which would make Cash at least a multi-millionaire. Maybe even a billionaire, but that’s too much money to think about.

“You look shocked,” Cash says casually.

“I thought…you meant…”

“A low profile club? A bar?” He laughs. “No, sweetheart. I own the Club 69 brand which consists of thirty-eight clubs.”

And some of them have been featured in various magazines, which is why I feel like I’ve seen this before.

“Is that why you’re so driven suddenly? Why you’ve been pushing so hard lately? To get back to work?”

His eyes narrow. “Why else would I work hard? I need to get back to business. Being stuck in Montana isn’t exactly infusing confidence in my investors. Why are you asking?”

I stare at the hardwood floor as heat floods my cheeks. “Because I hope your sudden motivation isn’t stemming from a need to resume your bull riding activities. Shannon said you’d had various accidents before and yet you keep riding.” I lift my glance to meet his hard stare. “Is it true?”

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