Page 23 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

I arched an inquisitive brow. “Oh? What are some of your guesses?”

He leaned back in his chair across the table from me, the picture of calm. He had an elbow resting on the arm of his chair, his chin notched casually in his hand as he used his other one to swirl his glass. “Do you...work at a gym?”

I grinned behind the rim of my glass tumbler. “Nope.”

His lips stretched into a smirk of their own, and the heat in my belly was no longer solely from the alcohol. “Are you a personal trainer who visits people at their homes?”

I let out a bark of laughter at that one. “Not even close. Trust me, people donotwant me in charge of their fitness.”

His eyelids narrowed minutely as he studied me from across the table, the low light of the candle flickering in the middle dancing in his dark gaze and casting shadows across the chiseled planes of his face. “Then I’m at a loss. If you don’t do something in the exercise arena, what’s with all the short, tight workout clothes? Is it just to drive men out of their minds?”

Now the heat in my belly hadnothingto do with the scotch. “Careful, now. That almost sounded like a compliment,” I teased, trying to play off the husky way those words came out with a low chuckle.

He arched a single dark eyebrow, his eyes nearly smoldering. “Like you don’t know you’re gorgeous.”

I cleared my throat against the sudden Sahara-like dryness and switched out the liquor for water. Obviously the booze was going to my head, because that almost sounded like flirting on his part. “You ever hear of Whiskey Dolls?” I finally asked after relieving my parched mouth.

“Who in this state hasn’t? It’s the most popular club there is.”

A smile full of pride pulled at my cheeks. “Well, I’m a Whiskey Doll. Four nights a week, I perform there. The gym clothes are for rehearsals. Driving men out of their minds is just an added bonus,” I flirted back, unable to help myself.

This time, both brows raised. “No shit?” he asked, sounding mildly impressed.

“I shit you not,” I returned.

A sly grin pulled at his face as he teased, “Hard to believe you’re a professional dancer after those moves I saw in the elevator earlier.”

I scowled playfully. “Hey, I got moves, jerk. I’m actually really good. Anyway, it’s an amazing gig. I love everything about it. The club, the owners, the staff, and the rest of the dancers. We’re like our own little family. Then there’s the added bonus that it gives me enough time for other things that I love.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I volunteer once a week at Hope House down in Hope Valley,” I admitted, my smile shifting from pride to happiness as I thought about those kids.

Jude remained silent for several seconds as he blinked his eyes slowly. “Wow, that’s...that’s pretty incredible, Layla. I can’t imagine it’s easy, doing something like that.”

I shrugged, staring down into my glass as I swirled the liquid around. “I didn’t even stop to consider that when I decided to do it. It just happened naturally. Those kids are my people. More so than pretty much anybody else.”

He shifted, catching my attention and forcing me to look up. He’d leaned forward, bracing both forearms on the table and clasping his hands together in front of him. There was something in his expression just then. The playfulness was gone, replaced by something much more serious as he asked, “Meaning?”

“Meaning...I get them, more than most other people because I was a foster kid myself. I know what it’s like to grow up in that environment. I can relate because I’ve been through most of what those kids have gone through. That makes connecting with them a whole hell of a lot easier. When they found out I was one of them, they opened up to me faster than they had the other grownups there. More often than not, they just need someone of authority toget it, and that’s where I come in.”

Jude sat back, his chest sinking on a large exhale. “Layla, I had no idea—”

“Not many people do. It isn’t something I broadcast. I don’t need pity or anything like that, and I never let it define me.”

“Still. What you do, that’s pretty incredible.”

His praise made my skin shrink over my bones and heat pool deep in my lower belly. I suddenly felt shy under his scrutinizing gaze. “Not really. I mean, I don’t do it for attention or notoriety. If it were anything else, I probably wouldn’t take the time. But for those kids, I’d pretty much do anything. When I found out about Hope House after moving here, I didn’t waste any time signing up as a volunteer. I have firsthand knowledge for what it’s like to walk in their shoes. The way I see it, not helping out would be selfish. They deserve so much more than the hand they were dealt. It’s not their fault they were born or forced into such shitty situations.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long...” He trailed off, and I could see the conflict warring on his face. He wanted to ask but felt like he was overstepping. That pause endeared him to me for some reason. It was as if the care he was taking not to offend thawed some of that ice he’d always been encased in around me, making it easier to answer.

“I was in the system from three until I aged out at eighteen. Apparently the woman who had me decided having a toddler was too difficult and didn’t want to keep me. She dropped me in front of a hospital and just drove off.”

“Fucking hell,” he grunted under his breath.

“Babies in that situation would get adopted quicker. People prefer infants to older kids.” I shrugged and gave him a sad smile. “I was one of the unlucky ones. I was already too old when I was abandoned. Not much appeal for a little girl who still wasn’t potty-trained and hardly talked.”

The way he watched me then, the intensity swimming in those deep blue eyes, made me squirm in my seat. He’d never looked at me like that before, not once. Pulling in a full breath was suddenly much harder than it had been just moments earlier.

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