“I don’t wanna hear it,” she said.

He didn’t care.

“Did he break up with them?” he asked.

She grabbed her margarita in an effort to look anywhere but at him.

But she answered, “No. Though he said he was prepared to.”

“I bet he was,” Axl murmured.

After taking a sip, she put her drink down and narrowed her eyes on him. “I’m glad you’re into me, but I’m not all that.”

“You so fucking are.”

“Well, as it’s good not having a boyfriend who thinks he’s awesome, it’s good you’ve got a girlfriend who isn’t up herself and thinks she’s all that.”

“Oh no,” he said, hooking his thumbs in her bikini pants and shifting her to float just beyond him so he could get them down her thighs. “That’s not good. I want you to know exactly how hot you are.”

“Axl—”

“Naked Jacuzzi sex, baby. Lose the top,” he ordered.

She kept her eyes narrowed on him.

Axl freed the bottoms from her feet and tossed them over the side where they made a wet slap.

He then pulled her back to straddle him, yanked down his trunks, and over the side they went.

And he waited.

Not long after, Hattie lost the top.

Chapter Twenty-Two

In Her Corner

Hattie

Thursday late morning, I walked into Smithie’s and the gang was almost all there.

I headed to where Lottie and Pepper were sitting on the front edge of the catwalk and Lottie greeted, “Yo,” while Pepper greeted, “Hey, Hatz.”

“Hey,” I returned. “Do you know what this is about?”

We’d been called in by Smithie for a full staff meeting.

The last full staff meeting had been to share with everyone we were moving to a Revue, though the dancers, including me, had known about it beforehand seeing as Smithie and Ian had talked to us about it to make sure we were onboard.

Having no idea what it was about, I didn’t think this meeting boded well and I was prepared to be seriously bummed about it if it wasn’t good news.

Because, so far, the week had been awesome.

Like, really awesome.

Starting with Monday night, when Axl came over to my place with Cleo after work and I got to give him the equal goodness he’d shown me when he cooked Tuscan chicken for me.

I didn’t cook him anything as fabulous as that as I didn’t have anything like that in my repertoire. But after he got in and got Cleo sorted, I sat him on a stool, gave him a glass of red, and then served up stuffed shells and garlic knots with a salad and tiramisu for dessert.

And he really liked it (especially the tiramisu, and I made mental note that Axl was an all-around coffee guy).

That night, he also brought over a bag full of stuff, and now he had sleep pants, boxer briefs, tees and socks in his drawer and there were some jeans, shirts and cargos hanging in my closet, as well as some running shoes on a shelf.