It's Getting Hot in Here Read online

  Once again, I blessed him with my dry tone, still holding my hand out. "That's amazing. Key?"

  He watched me for a long moment before taking a deep breath and smirking. "Okay. If you can reach it, you can have it. " He reached in his pocket and pull the key free, lifting it high above his head and dangling it there from a key ring.

  I pursed my lips, watching him get more and more smug by the moment and I seriously wasn't sure that a human being had ever irritated me so bad in my entire life.

  So… I didn't feel at all bad about punching him directly in the stomach and swiping the key when he doubled over. Was it violent? Sure, but it wasn't like I damaged anything important. I barely hit him. He was being over dramatic. And it was honestly better all the way around than my original idea of tackling the man to the ground and digging the key out of his ridiculously tight jeans.

  There was a stunned silence from the entire club as I walked away toward my stock room, feeling oddly rejuvenated by the whole thing, and then I heard the low rumble of Wagoner's laughter, and I shuddered just before I turned the corner.

  Fuck! That man did things to me, and I wasn't entirely sure if they were good or bad.

  ***

  I sighed at the screen of my phone, thankful nobody was around to watch me as I pressed my forehead to a random box, sitting on the nearly overflowing shelf.

  I'd locked the door, needing just a few moments of privacy, since the building seemed to be filling fast. I'd taken Wagoner's key, so I knew I was fine to mope here a bit. How long can I stay in here, I wonder, and not be bothered by anyone or anything?

  The room usually stayed unlocked for the most part in the evening, since there wasn't much room up under the bar to store things, and on busy nights we went through shit pretty fast, and it wasn't always feasible for Wagoner or me to run back here.

  I still wasn't sure why he'd decided to trust me with that responsibility, considering I was far from his nicest employee, and I would have assumed Lizzy was his righthand lady. Hell, maybe she'd turned him down or something and he decided between me and Walter, I was his better bet.

  My phone dinged again, letting me know yet another message had come through, and I sighed, already knowing this was going to be the end for this babysitter just by the sheer amount of frustration I could feel coming from her texts.

  The boys really weren't bad. Hell, they were barely fourteen months old, but having an overnight babysitter meant having a young––desperate for a job––babysitter, which was great… except when said young person realized a job where you slept most of your shift away was perfect, until the weekend rolled around and you couldn't go hang out with your friends.

  Amanda had already asked off for two Saturdays in a row, and at the time, it had been fine because Arden's grandma had been in town, and she loved both boys and spending time with them, but she was back in Florida, so the text I got about ten minutes ago, where Amanda was already trying to take the next day off––surprise, it was a Saturday––because of a project she had due, and the three not entirely nice texts after that when I reminded her that she knew what the hours would be when she took the job, painted a pretty clear picture of what was to come.

  The facts were, college students didn't like to work weekends, and though I understood completely because I distinctly remember––well, maybe not so distinctly––partying my way through freshman year, it was still frustrating as hell to have to hunt down a new babysitter every month or so.

  I could change jobs and get a day job, but that would mean missing big chuncks of the boys' waking hours and I knew there was nowhere around that could pay the way working at Slick did. Even without the tips, I made good money… but it might not matter anymore, since I was pretty sure I was going to be sans babysitter come four this morning when I finally made it home from work.

  At least I had a couple of days off coming up. Maybe by the time I needed to go back to work on Tuesday night, I would already have a babysitter in place. I sighed, groaning. Or maybe I'd be shit-out-of-luck and would lose my job because I'd have to call in until I got a sitter.

  The door to the storage room opened, and my head popped up to find Wagoner frozen right inside the threshold as he watched me. I groaned again, wondering when the day would come that I would catch a fucking break.

  Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight, putting my nose in the air and facing the bane of my existence who'd pretty much just caught me nearly in tears in my sanctuary of organization. My only chance to get out of this with even a scrap of dignity… well honestly, I wasn't really sure how I was going to do that, but I wasn't going to do anything with my head down either.

  "How did you get in here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and hoping that my accusatory tone would be enough to make him forget what he'd just seen.

  "Uh, I used the spare." Again, his hand went to is front pocket like he was trying to protect it from me.

  "I thought I had the spare."

  "You have one of the spares. I had a few made in the event I lost one… or had one forcefully taken from me by a hooligan who can't take a joke."

  We stood there watching each other for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face and mine scanning his.

  I hated that he was so damn sexy. It was really hard to remember that he was not the type of guy I wanted to date when he definitely looked like the type of guy I wanted to drop to his knees right then and blow me until every stressful thought drifted out of my brain on a wave of pleasure.

  "Sorry to interrupt you praise and worship time, but I need edible glitter."

  Praise and worship? "I wasn't singing."

  He moved forward, invading my space like always, crowding me back against the shelf until my back was pressed against the box I had been resting my head against moments before, probably caving the side in slightly.

  "Okay. Neither was I," he said, shrugging and eyeing me like he truly didn't understand why I'd volunteered that information. His big shoulders shifting under the thin cotton of the club's T-shirt drew my attention like always, and my body reacted like the touch starved asshole it was.

  My asshole is touch starved too, and he's so close. Only a few more inches and I could press my body to his. My nipples tingled at the idea of raking against the hard planes of his lower chest and ribs.

  "Wait does that mean we have something in common?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes watching my face intently. "I knew we were soulmates."

  I raised my eyebrows, trying to remember what it was we'd been talking about. It took far longer than it should. "Praise and worship. That's the part of a church service…" he bit down on his bottom lip, making my stomach tremble, and I decided trying to talk too much was probably just not in the cards for me. "Never mind."

  He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached up and pulled one of the large containers of edible glitter off of the shelf directly above my head, his eyes never leaving my face even as the move caused his body to sway slightly into mine. "I know what praise and worship is, Jen-Jen. I have gone to church a few times."

  He was messing with me. Did he know what he did to me? What the hell was I thinking? Of course he knew what he did to me. He liked nothing better than to mess with me at any given moment of the day, and there was no way the man didn't know how desirable he was.

  How desirable he was to other omegas. Other young, impressionable omegas who didn't know any better. I knew better. I did. I was just stressed and vulnerable… all the time. If I was in my right mind, I'd pepper-spray him or something.

  He stepped back, smirking down at me, and I cleared my throat, giving him a dry look and hoping he bought the whole unaffected routine.

  I didn't look down to confirm that my shirt was untucked, and therefore hiding… things. If for some strange reason I'd decided to tuck my shirt in today, I didn't want to draw attention to those things, especially because I knew without a doubt that those things were hard as hell and probably being obscene.

  "Uh huh," I answered ske
ptically. "You're sure it was a church service? Sometimes people confuse weddings, funerals or even raves as church services. And by some people I definitely mean morons."

  He blinked several times before squinting his eyes and looking toward the ceiling like he was actually wondering himself. "That would explain why the preacher was standing in front of two people holding hands over a casket and wearing neon paint under black lights. Do you think it was a you'll marry that man over my dead body type thing?"

  Don't laugh! He's not funny.

  Taking a long, deep breath to hide my amusement. "You're weird." I gave him my back and leaned down to fish out the plastic dick shaped shot glasses which had been the actual purpose of me coming back here in the first place before I started getting those damn text messages from my babysitter.

  I heard a strange sound from behind me, but when I turned to look at Wagoner, he was biting his lower lip with his head leaned back, looking at the ceiling like he was in pain.

  We'd originally started out with glass, reusable shot glasses, but we discovered that the dick shape made them a bitch to get clean, especially since the Cum Shot was basically RumChata, Smirnoff Whipped Cream Vodka and Sheelin White Chocolate, all of which were sticky as hell. It was just better for everyone that we ordered the plastic ones, printed Slick's label on them, and let people take them home to do what they wanted with them. It was amazing how many people were willing to pay extra just for the penis shooter.

  "Are you good to work right now?" he asked, watching me a little too closely, and I glared in return, feeling on display and vulnerable.

  "Why wouldn’t I be?"

  "Because you were in here with your forehead pressed to a box of penis pops. You were either upset about something or really craving a very cherry dick delight."

  "I think that's assuming a lot on your end," I grumbled, glancing at the box in question and pursing my lips. "I still say getting the local candy maker to do these would be better for everyone."

  "Not if I'm the one having to order a hundred dick suckers from Rosemary the sweet little old lady who takes the orders."

  I forced myself not to smile at the thought. What he didn't know was that kinky old coot probably already sold those in her store.

  His face did that serious thing again while he looked me over once more. What the hell was he seeing when he did that, because the expression on his face was not making me feel myself all that much, and I'd looked decent at least when I left the house two hours ago.

  "You have room duty tonight and all three are booked solid through the night. If you need someone to trade you, just let me know."

  "Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine."

  I'm probably going to have to either find a new job or a sitter that doesn't mind missing out on weekends, but I'm sure I'll figure something out. I always do.

  He nodded, heading toward the door, and the part of me that I apparently had no control over, watched his ass until he paused at the door to look over his shoulder.

  I was pretty sure I managed to jerk my gaze up before he caught me, but with the way things were going lately, he probably knew exactly what I'd been doing. That smirk on his face said I wasn't wrong.

  "I was going to say concealer might help to hide the bags under your eyes, but that blush is pretty concealing also."

  I glared, reaching sideways to scoop a hand full of dick suckers out of the box next to me, and he must have read the intent in my eyes because he scooted around the corner pretty quickly, just making it out of sight as they all crashed against the wall in the hallway just across from the door.

  My bags weren't that bad… I didn't think.

  Chapter Two

  JULY

  "I

  can't believe I agreed to this," Jennings grumbled to Lizzy as I walked up, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and looking down at his delicious looking stomach like he was actually self-conscious or something.

  He didn't have a reason to be as far as I could tell. The man looked amazing. He was thin, sure, but it was a good look on him with his narrow face and wide, generous mouth. He was wearing eyeliner around his stunning eyes and a choker that made him look slightly edgy, and I would have laughed about the irony in that if it weren't for the fact that I was close to choking on my damn tongue.

  His tight white jeans sank low on his narrow hips, making the expanse of skin showing below his cropped T-shirt with the Slick's logo on it seem miles long. His generous package was cupped quite nicely in the soft looking material and since I'd come up behind them and slowly walked around the bar, I knew that those jeans showcased his fabulous ass perfectly.

  Lizzy sighed, rolling her eyes before smacking his hands away from where they were spread across his belly like he was trying to hide as much of it as possible. "It's not that bad. You liked it before I said it was Wagoner's idea."

  He huffed, raising his nose in the air and smacking her back. "Incorrect. I said I liked it on the young little omegas running around here. Not me."

  "Are you kidding right now?" She demanded at the same time my mouth dropped open in surprise. I'd never have thought that he was self-conscious before overhearing this conversation. He'd always seemed so damn confident. "You have a gorgeous body."

  "I'm still too old to be wearing a half shirt," he groaned, letting his head fall back on his shoulders dramatically.

  "We're the same age," Lizzy said, making me blink for a moment. "Am I too old to be wearing it?"

  I was pretty sure Lizzy had just told me the other day that she was thirty-four. She didn't look it at all. Actually, she looked like she was barely out of her teens, to which she attributed her lack of a guilty conscience, but I was pretty sure it had more to do with her not having a conscience at all. Can't feel bad about something if you have very few morals, I guess. For some reason, though, I'd thought Jennings was closer to my age, maybe a little younger. If he was thirty-four as well, that put him at eight years older than me.

  Well, he's definitely more mature than I am.

  "Oh, no you don't," he said, chuckling slightly as he wagged a finger at her. "I'm not falling into this trap." He glanced my direction and made a face I recognized as his, you-disgust-me-immensely face. "What the hell are you looking at?"

  A sexy-ass man who somehow just got even more attractive because he doesn't seem to realize how desirable he really is.

  I'd been in lust with him since the moment he walked into my office, curiously looking around the room, with his hands in his back pockets and his shoulders back like he didn't have a care in the world. He was sexy as fuck and made me laugh nearly every single time I talked to him in some way. Usually when he was insulting me… or assaulting me.

  I had a strict policy against dating or even fucking anyone that I employed because stuff like that was nothing but messy, but I couldn't deny there was something about him that made me want to throw that fucking rule right out of the window.

  "An overgrown cry-baby," I said, making sure to give him the smirkiest smirk that ever irritated an omega. "Nearly everyone is wearing one."

  I pointed to myself, and the fact that I too was wearing one of the little shirts, making sure to flex my abs when his eyes moved down my body. An eyebrow rose imperiously, and he shrugged before once again tugging on the bottom of his shirt.

  "It seems unsanitary with all this skin showing," he grumbled, pursing his lips when he let go of the fabric and it bounced right back up in place.

  "It's a strip club," I reminded him dryly.

  "Still."

  I chuckled, shaking my head as I crowded behind the bar with him, making Lizzy smirk and step back slightly. I was pretty sure she knew of my stupid crush on the sexy omega, but she was thankfully pretty subtle about giving me hell for it.

  "If you're that uncomfortable, you can wear one of the regular club T-shirts," I said, propping my hip against the counter and trying not to smile when I noticed his gaze start to roam over me before he seemed to realize what he was doing an
d then snapped his eyes back to mine. "Renny is. He said the big reveal is more fun when you show less skin. A couple others are too. If you recall, I said it was optional."

  Pursing his lips, he seemed to think about it for a long moment before rolling his eyes. "I'll wear the fucking thing."

  He gave it another useless tug, and I chuckled, letting my eyes move over him again. My eyes landed on his stomach again and the way I could make out the lines of his abs, but they weren't super distinct. Just the perfect amount of indent for my tongue to travel.

  I smiled at the smudge just to the left and below his belly button, wondering if he'd managed to get it in the stock room while moving stuff around to make room for some of the new stuff we'd gotten in earlier. "Hold on, you have something…" I trailed off as I leaned closer, my finger already sliding over the smudge only to realized it definitely wasn't a smudge. It was part of his skin and slightly indented. "Is that a scar?"

  It was a light pink, about three inches long and looked almost like a lightning strike, like something jagged had gotten him.

  He groaned and then cleared his throat, shaking his head lightly. "No. It's a stretch mark."

  I tilted my head, nodding slightly. Now that he'd said it, it really did look like a stretch mark. Most of my brothers and I had them from growing when we were younger. They were mostly faded now, but they could still be seen if you were looking.

  "From what?" I asked, leaning closer to get a better look while still stroking the flesh, liking the sensation of his skin beneath mine.

  "From when I was pregnant with my son," he said huskily, blinking at the sudden movement of my head as I quickly jerked my gaze up to his.

  "You have a son?" I asked, completely surprised, but somehow not at the same time. He seemed like a dad now that I thought of it. He had that air of control and didn't put up with people's shit. When he said something, he clearly had a reason for saying it, and if people weren't doing something the way he thought it should be done, he pretty much shooed them out of the way to get it done right.