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The man stopped trying to scramble for it and froze.

  He also lost control of his bladder.

  I lost control of my ability to keep my cock from growing hard whenever Waylynn Jennings was around.

  An hour later, we were finished answering the police officers’ questions, and I was finally able to deposit the money that I’d come into the bank specifically to do.

  “That was fun,” Waylynn said as she walked out at my side. “Now, about why I was here today.”

  I frowned at her.

  “You’re not affected by what just happened at all?” I questioned.

  She shrugged.

  “My dad is an ex-Army Ranger. He was on the police force for about two years before he decided bullfighting was what he wanted to do with his life. But, he taught me everything he knows. I’ve been learning how to pie corners and clear a house since I was old enough to hold a Nerf gun. Trust me when I say, this shit doesn’t affect me like it would most girls.”

  Every time she opened her mouth, she surprised me.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “The rodeo’s in town,” she snorted. “Duh.”

  I looked at her with a question in my eyes.

  “You’re wondering why I’m with my dad and not working, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Got it in one,” I confirmed.

  She sighed and kicked a rock that was on the sidewalk.

  “I had to.”

  I didn’t bother asking her why.

  Instead, when we got to my truck, I leaned against the cab, crossed my legs, and waited for her to start explaining.

  She sighed.

  Chapter 2

  I want to eat 5 meals a day. What motherfucker decided that it should only be two?

  -Text from Waylynn to Darby

  Waylynn

  He was too beautiful for his own good.

  Why was he so hot?

  That was the question of the day, anyway.

  Darby Valentine, the youngest of the Valentine boys, was hot as sin. Wickedly smart, and a goddamn genius. How was it fair that a man like him, with all those extra things that made him so freakin’ appealing, got brains, smarts, and common sense?

  It wasn’t fair.

  In fact, the man was so perfect that I hated him.

  Then again, he would be perfect if he didn’t open his mouth.

  But, that rarely ever happened when it came to that particular Valentine.

  “Apparently everyone in Houston either wants me to have some experience or more education,” I said. “I’ve applied at over ten firms. They’ve all declined.” I scrunched up my nose and tried not to let my anger show. “When I applied at a few lower-level jobs, I was apparently overqualified. Frustrated, I came home for the summer.”

  “You don’t live here,” the smart-ass man pointed out. “Your father lives in a trailer and is only home for a week at most before he heads out again.”

  I was gritting my teeth, trying not to allow my anger at him show.

  The thing was, I was pissed.

  Not only had Darby double-majored, he’d also scored higher on all of his classes than me.

  It was a hard pill to swallow watching someone that seriously didn’t give a single fuck making all As when he didn’t study for a test all night like you did.

  “My father bought a house and some acreage here last week,” I told him. “Apparently, this is the ‘hopping’ place, according to him. That, and I think he’s getting tired of following the rodeo circuit around. When he’s finished with this season, he says he’s done.”

  Surprised at my words, Darby sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The sexy way he was standing there, leaning against his truck, with his feet crossed out in front of him and his hat down low shading his eyes made me want to scream.

  Or kiss him.

  I wasn’t sure which at this point.

  “Did he happen to purchase the old Camfire land?” he asked casually.

  Too casually.

  “Umm, yes?” I said. “That name sounds familiar.”

  He stiffened.

  “What?” I asked.

  He was already shaking his head. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

  I blinked in surprise at his tone.

  Was he mad?

  What the hell had I said to piss him off so swiftly and fantastically?

  “Anyway,” I said. “Dad purchased that land, and I found a job at a diner not too far from it. I start there tomorrow. Can you give me a ride home?”

  He didn’t say anything to that.

  Instead, he drove me home, not asking once for directions.

  When we arrived at my closed gate, he came to a rough stop and stared straight ahead as he waited for me to get out.

  Not sure what had come over him, and not willing to deal with this particular part of Darby Valentine, I got out of the truck and closed the door.

  He didn’t waste a single second accelerating down the drive.

  And I most certainly did not watch him go.

  Nope.

  Instead, I walked up the drive to my place, and let myself in.

  I took a look around and felt like something heavy had lodged itself on my shoulders.

  God, this place needed a lot of work.

  I’d only been here for a week, and I was already more than aware that things were going to have to get fixed soon or the entire place would be uninhabitable.

  Hell, the only thing at least remotely nice about the house was my bed.

  My bed that currently had a rather large spider perched on top of the covers.

  I felt bile rise in my throat at the sight.

  Picking up the first thing I saw—an old iron—I walked to the bed and slammed it down onto the spider, hearing the damn thing splat.

  Gagging, I lifted the iron and scrunched up my nose in disgust.

  Then I tore sheets, comforters, and pillows all off and marched them straight into the laundry room.

  After starting the washer, I called an exterminator.

  There were a few things that I considered necessities.

  Food, water, electricity and bug control.

  Those were four things that I couldn’t live without, no matter what.

  So using my dad’s credit card to pay for it didn’t make me feel guilty in the least.

  What did make me feel guilty was considering burning the entire place to the ground and starting over.

  Surely living in a trailer would be better than this, right?

  I called my dad, honestly surprised when he answered.

  “Hello?” he asked, sounding distracted.

  “Hey, Dad. It’s me,” I said.

  I could practically hear my father moving through the crowd in order to get to a quieter place.

  Once he found it, he spoke again.

  “Hey, baby. How’s the job search?” he asked.

  I didn’t feel like telling him the depressing news of not finding anything.

  Instead, I told him about the house and the spider that I killed.

  He was laughing before I’d even finished my explanation.

  “Oh, baby,” he said. “You never were good with spiders.”

  No, I never had been.

  And I’d also never had anybody to help me kill the spiders. I’d always been alone.

  My father, although a good one, had been gone the majority of my life. I’d done a lot of my growing up years by myself. Either at home by myself, or with a babysitter if it was overnight while he was working a shift, or in a trailer while he slept his way around the rodeo arena.

  Honestly, I didn’t even know why I called him.

  It was just that sometimes, the idea of who I wanted my father to be overshadowed who he actually was.

  My dad wasn’t a bad guy. He was just a bad dad.

  “No,” I adm
itted. “Anyway, I just wanted to call and check on your ETA.”

  “My estimated time of arrival would be not anytime soon,” he admitted. “I, uh, met someone.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “What’s that mean?” I wondered idly.

  “Well,” he hesitated. “She’s pretty important to me. I think I’m gonna see where this goes down here in Houston for a while.”

  I closed my eyes as his words settled heavily.

  “So what do I do about the things that need fixed?” I wondered. “I can’t… I can’t afford to do them yet by myself.”

  “I can send home a bit to float you,” he offered. “It won’t be much, but it’ll be enough to get you started.”

  I nearly groaned as I took a look around the house that I could see potential in, but wasn’t going to be a walk in the park to get to its prime.

  “Okay,” I said softly. “Well, I hope you have a great night.”

  “Night, darlin’.” He hung up without a second thought.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, allowing it to stretch out my tired neck muscles.

  When I was done with my moment, I went about getting over it.

  Then I cleaned the house and made it shine, even if I couldn’t make it whole.

  Tomorrow was a new day. I’d start my job officially. I’d make it. I’d do what I loved in the end, even if it killed me.

  Chapter 3

  Men will never know how it feels to have a fart creep forward and go up inside your vagina. Then you gotta do a weird bend to re-fart your fart.

  -Text from Waylynn to Darby

  Waylynn

  “What. The fuck. Was that?” I asked, staring in horror at the woman that’d just decided that I needed a stern talking to.

  “That was Mrs. Miller,” my new boss, Trudy, said. “Just ignore her. She thinks that she needs to be all up in everyone’s business.”

  Honestly, it was kind of humiliating to have to find a job waiting tables in the slimiest diner in town when I should be working, utilizing my degree.

  Gotta earn the bucks some way, baby. It doesn’t matter if it’s waiting tables or working a pole. Money’s money.

  My dad’s words ricocheted through my brain, and I wanted to murder him all over again.

  When I said that I’d be okay working a pole, he’d told me under no uncertain terms was I allowed to do that.

  But, after working at this particular diner this afternoon, I was fairly certain that a strip club would be the better way to go for me.

  Which was why I was not on my best behavior when he walked in.

  My give a damn was officially busted after what Mrs. Miller had just shared with me.

  “I’m going to go take a smoke break,” Trudy said. “You can handle that man, right?”

  No, I wasn’t sure I could handle Darby Valentine, but I’d give it the ol’ college try.

  I stared at him as he walked in, not breaking eye contact with him until he was close enough that I could read his shirt.

  My lips twitched when I read what it said.

  “If you’re reading this the right way up, unhook me from the stirrup?” I laughed.

  “I bought it for Banks, but he wouldn’t wear it,” he said as he sidled up to the bar that was separating me from him. “What are you doing here?”

  I blinked.

  “Ummm,” I said, “I’m working,” flicking my shirt with one hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It looks like you’re in the shittiest place in town that caters to the low-lifes, drug addicts, and convicted felons,” he said, taking a disgusted look around. “I saw your truck out front and thought, there ain’t no way in hell that she’s working here. But I had to come see just to make sure.”

  I shrugged. “I need a job. This place is close to the house and I can walk here.”

  He frowned. “You can walk?”

  I nodded.

  “I can walk,” I repeated. “I mean, I guess I could take my horse, Canteen, but I’m not sure I would want to tie her up all day.”

  Darby rolled his eyes.

  “You couldn’t find anywhere else?” he pushed.

  I tilted my head, then leaned into him.

  A roach skittered across the counter, making a beeline for my arm, and I yanked myself back with a squeak.

  Darby slammed the napkin dispenser down onto the roach, and four more poured out of the box holding them.

  I gagged.

  I hated bugs. But, more so, I really hated roaches.

  Like, on a scale of one to ten, ten being I’m dead, I was a thirty-seven.

  There’d been one time that I’d had to stay at my mom’s house—my mom who was living with a new boyfriend—and had to use my inhaler.

  It’d been a true emergency, so I’d been pretty quick about taking the cap off and putting it to my mouth.

  When I’d done so, roaches had crawled out from the mouthpiece and straight into my mouth.

  From that point forward, I’d been extremely careful about what I did and didn’t do—and what kind of places I allowed myself to be.

  Yeah, that was the last straw.

  Without thinking about it, I snatched up a completely sealed water bottle and walked out, leaving Darby staring after me.

  It was only as I was getting into my truck that he caught up.

  “Just like that, you’re going to leave?” he asked, sounding amused.

  I nodded once and slammed the door.

  But, since it was unbearably hot outside, I rolled down my window, cranking it using the handle until it was all the way down.

  He watched me with amusement.

  “Your dad let you use his truck today,” he said.

  Yes, he had.

  “I asked to borrow it for my first day. I needed to see how far it was to be able to walk it tomorrow,” I answered. “Jesus, this place is a joke.”

  I started my dad’s truck up and put it into reverse.

  “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

  I looked down the street to the only classy joint on the entire block and pointed.

  “I’m going to go there and see if I can find something,” I answered.

  His mouth fell open.

  “You’re going to work at Judy Boobies?” he asked incredulously.

  I was fairly sure that Judy Boobies didn’t actually go by that name, but I’d heard more than five people call it that today.

  Most of it coming from men who kept saying what a classy joint Judy Boobies was and that they wished they had the money to pay the cover charge.

  “Yeah,” I answered, backing out of the parking spot.

  I didn’t know what I expected. It sure as hell wasn’t for Darby to follow me into ‘Judy Bosoms’ not, might I add, Judy Boobies.

  But he did.

  Right on my tail.

  I ignored him and walked right up to the bouncer with a smile on my face.

  “Can I help you?” he asked curiously.

  I nodded. “I want to talk to the manager about a job.”

  He blinked. Then blinked again, raking his eyes over my body as if he found me lacking. Or maybe he expected a woman that was applying for a job as a stripper to wear less clothes? I didn’t know, but I did know that I didn’t like the look he was giving me, making me jut my chin out in annoyance.

  His eyes went from me to the man at my back and back to me before shrugging and opening the door for me.

  I grinned and walked inside, surprised to see that the interior was bright and airy, and much too beautiful to be on the particular block that it was on.

  “Why are you following me?” I asked curiously.

  Darby shrugged in answer.

  I came to a stop right inside the door and took everything in.

  After spending all day at the diner like I had, I hadn’t expected the grandeur of Judy Bosoms.

  But what I saw
was nothing less than extraordinary.

  “Wow,” I said, staring in awe at the place in front of me.

  Everything was made of glass.

  The walls. The ceiling. The floor.

  Some of it was frosted while others gave the idea of a funhouse of sorts.

  It had to be the coolest place that I’d ever seen.

  “It’s cool,” Darby said. “I haven’t seen it since the new owner fixed it… ahhhh, there he is. Gibson.”

  I looked up to see a tall, dark and dangerous man headed our way. This man, Gibson, looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ. There was no way in hell he wouldn’t stand out in Kilgore, Texas.

  “Valentine,” Gibson said, walking up and grasping Darby’s hand. “You’re looking well.”

  Darby snorted. “Whatever. I like what you’ve done with the place. It looks really nice. Much classier since we were here last.”

  Gibson laughed at that, his eyes turning to me and then back to Darby.

  “This your girl?” he asked, offering me his hand.

  “Um, that’s a big fat no,” I said, taking his proffered hand and shaking it just like my daddy taught me. “This man followed me from the parking lot.”

  Gibson’s mouth twitched up at the corner into a small smirk. “Did he now?”

  I was already shaking my head. “Yep. I’m here to apply for a job.”

  GQ’s head tilted as if he couldn’t quite believe I’d just requested the information that I had.

  “You want to work… here?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Why?” he wondered.

  I fought the urge to cross my hands over my chest and instead tucked my fingers into my back pocket before answering.

  “Because I need a job,” I said, not seeing a point in lying.

  If I didn’t need a job, would I be applying at a strip club? No. No, I would not.

  But the simple fact was, I did need a job. And I wasn’t a stuck up snob—unless there were roaches involved. I would work and do what needed to be done.

  “I don’t have any openings,” he admitted. “Not as a stripper.”

  “But you do have openings?” I asked.

  His lips twitched. “I have an opening for a bouncer.”

  I was already shaking my head.

  “As much as I’d like to say I can handle that, I can’t,” I told him. “Unless you let me bring my gun…”

  He snorted. “Yeah, that’s a no.”