Page 35 of Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls 1)

Now I was sitting at my station in the dressing room at Whiskey Dolls, done up in a barely-there sailor costume covered in sequins, with my hair and makeup done like a 50s pinup model, complete with vintage pin curls, red lips, and winged black eyeliner.

Usually I loved getting all dolled up for this particular number, but tonight I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the text that had come through my phone three hours earlier.

Pierce:You can’t avoid me forever. We need to talk.

I knew we did, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply. Like I said, I was a coward.

“Hey, you good?”

I looked up to find Alma watching me curiously. I gave her a smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “Yep. All good here.”

She lifted one perfectly arched, thick black brow. “You sure? Because you’ve been staring at your phone for the past five minutes with this deer-in-the-headlights look on your face.”

Carefully blanking my expression, I shoved my phone back into my bag under my little makeup table, determined to put the text out of my mind, at least for now.

“Nope. All good.” She was dressed in the same exact costume as me, with her hair and makeup done up just like mine. “You ready to go out there?”

She narrowed her eyes skeptically, but eventually gave in and nodded. “Yep. Let’s go put on a killer show.”

And that was exactly what I intended to do. Out front, the lights on the stage went down, and I took my place with the other girls. As soon as the music kicked on, I wiped my mind clean of everything except what I’d be doing for the next several minutes.

Dancing had always been an escape for me, and I needed it now more than ever.

* * *

I was up and out of bed the next morning much earlier than I normally would be after working at the club, but no matter how hard I’d tried the night before, I hadn’t been able to find sleep. Thoughts of the kiss I’d almost shared with Pierce wouldn’t stop playing on a loop in my mind. A pulsing ache had formed between my thighs, alerting me to the gnawing emptiness, and it hadn’t gone away since I all but ran out of his house that night.

During the rare couple of hours I did manage to doze, my sleep was riddled with dreams of him touching me, kissing me, saying my name in that gravelly velvet voice of his.

There were two more texts on my phone by the time I climbed out of the shower, and each increased in frustration, telling me that Pierce was most certainlynothappy with me.

Pierce:I never took you for someone who’d tuck tail and run. Guess I was wrong.

The first time I read that one, a lump of shame had formed in my throat, making it almost impossible to breathe, but as I read and re-read that message, that shame gave way to anger. He didn’t know me. Not really. So who the hell was he to make judgements on my character?

Full of righteous indignation, I’d nearly texted that back to him. Then I read his last message, and the fire in my belly had been snuffed out like someone had just kicked sand on it.

Pierce:If you want to avoid me, that’s fine. But don’t even think about disappearing on Eli. He doesn’t deserve it.

Oh hell.

That was a direct shot.

I thought back to that sweet little boy, to the conversation we’d had in his bedroom and the sadness on his face when he talked about wanting a mother. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d consider disappearing on him. I cared about that kid more than I cared about myself.

I couldn’tnotreply to that one.

Me:I’d never do that.

I could see that the message had been read, but he never bothered responding. Not that I blamed him.

I was out of my apartment before eight, swinging into Muffin Top, the best coffee shop in all of Hope Valley, and probably the country, loading up on sweet caffeinated drinks and pastries before I pointed my car in the direction of Tali’s house.

My sister answered the door, surprised to find me standing on her front porch.

“What are you doing here at eight in the morning? Didn’t you work last night?”

“Just felt like visiting with my sister,” I said nonchalantly as I shoved past her and into the house, making a beeline for the kitchen. “You already drop the kids at school?”

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