Both Bruno and Lynn walked into Lynn’s office and shut the door, leaving me once again to look at Avery who was still not telling me what she wanted.
“I’m not getting any younger here,” I said. “And are we doing lunch or not?”
I usually worked from ten to twelve at the bar after classes, getting things ready for that night. Then I grabbed lunch, went to two more classes, and then got some studying time in and one of my online classes taken care of before I went to work from eight to twelve.
Avery and I met for lunch on Tuesdays.
She was in one of my classes at the college, and we’d hit it off quite well.
Now we were good friends, and we ate lunch and chatted when we could fit in the time.
Tuesdays were usually my only days that I could do that, though.
My schedule was busy as hell—at least for the next six weeks.
I was drastically rewriting my schedule next year.
I would not be taking anything over twelve college credit hours.
I just couldn’t hack it.
First, I didn’t want to attempt something so difficult. It was an awful idea to try to fit this many college classes in.
Secondly, I liked sleeping in. I also liked Saturdays and Sundays. Both of which were being consumed by all the schoolwork I couldn’t finish during the week.
Third, I missed my family. I wanted to see them more.
And lastly, I kind of liked bartending. It made me exceptionally happy to see the disapproving faces my brothers made.
“Let’s head out now,” Avery said. “I’ll tell you in the car.”
I rolled my eyes but grabbed my purse, called out a goodbye to Lynn through the door, and headed out until my shift this evening.
“Do you have to work this Saturday?” she asked casually.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t work Saturday or Sunday. That was the deal with my brothers, remember?”
She snickered.
I’m glad someone found it funny.
I sure didn’t.
“It’s sweet that they love you,” she said. “And Saturdays and Sundays are freakin’ crazy here… or so I’ve heard.”
“You should come,” I teased.
Avery gave me a droll look.
“Do you honestly think that I could get Derek to take me here?” she asked.
Derek was her man.
Derek also was a member of the Kilgore SWAT team, and a really sweet guy that loved his wife.
What he did not love was his wife in danger.
Not that I blamed him.
I was only risky with my own life. Not anybody else’s.
“No,” I admitted. “So… why does it matter if I have Saturday off?”
She bleeped the locks on her car door, and I dropped inside the passenger seat.
“I…” she sighed.
“Oh, spit it out, Avery.” I slapped my hand against my jean-clad thigh.
“I want you to do a stranger photoshoot!” she blurted out.
Seriously, I was a pretty laid back person.
I liked to do what I liked to do.
I dressed like I wanted.
Ate how I wanted.
Worked out when I wanted.
Went to school.
Ultimately, I was pretty chill.
I mean, I worked in a strip club, for Pete’s sake.
What I did not do well were strangers.
I didn’t know why.
That was why I worked behind the bar.
It kept people away from me.
I could put on a good front, but honestly, I was not good with people I didn’t know.
And generally, people coming into a strip club didn’t give a damn about the woman behind the bar. They gave a damn about the woman up on the stage.
Something which I would never, not ever, do.
I was just fucking shy, okay?
I could bullshit with the best of them, but at the end of the day, I still hid behind my daddy when he introduced me to new people.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “It’s a stranger. I swear to God, if there was anyone else, I wouldn’t have asked you. But everyone is married, soon-to-be married, or pregnant that I know female-wise. You’re it for me.”
I swallowed hard past a lump in my throat.
“What would I have to do?” I asked, voice holding steady even though I could feel it threatening to crack.
“Whatever you wanted to do,” she admitted. “I was thinking that I could bring you to our house. We could do it in our bedroom. Or our kitchen. Wherever. Pretty much, we just throw y’all together and take pictures of you. Please, please. I know you’re about to say no.”
I was.
“Avery…” I started.
“He’s a good guy,” she blurted. “He’s rock solid—both in terms of muscles and personality. He’s a little quiet. He’s on the SWAT team. I’ve pretty much blackmailed him into doing it, too.”
“How did you blackmail him?” I asked curiously.
“Well, I think that I’m going to do a photoshoot auction,” she said. “Some of the pictures I’m going to enter into this auction will benefit the Fallen Officer’s Association. The association is something very near and dear to his heart.”