With a baffled grin, Emerson pulled out a folded note that had been taped to the side.
Emerson,
One of my friends told me ladies like when men send them flowers, but I spent way too much time trying to figure out what kind you liked, so I got you meat instead.
See you tonight.
Bash
Well, that man knew just how to lift her mood. Her melancholy thoughts puffed away like dandelion seeds on the breeze. This was way better than flowers.
With a big old grin on her face, Emerson dragged the heavy cooler inside.
And now her sixty-five was down to fifty percent.
Chapter Five
No matter how many times she patted her hair down, Emerson wasn’t going to tame her locks. Giving up, she clapped the mirror on her visor closed and shimmied out onto the curb of the main drag of Saratoga. She’d tried to find a spot in the parking lot of Sammy’s Bar, but the closest she could get was two blocks away.
She straightened her cherry red eyelet sundress and pulled her dark-wash jean jacket over her shoulders, then made her way down the sidewalk, her glossy black heals clopping with each step. She’d bought this outfit from the boutique just for tonight and felt like a million bucks. Or at least she did until she saw the line outside of Sammy’s had snaked around two sides of the building. All these women were here to seduce Bash.
Her gaze bumped and bounced from one beautiful, made-up woman to another until she was drowning in a sea of hair spray and sex-appeal.
What was she doing here?
No less than three women pitched a fit as she made her way past the line and to the front entrance where a bouncer, Ray, held the Bash Babes at bay.
“No cuts, beautiful,” the bald, muscle-man said without looking at her.
“Uhhh, Bash said I’m on the list.”
“Emerson Elliot?”
“Y-yes. That’s me.” She handed him her ID before he asked for it.
Once he checked her name, he grinned and turned his clipboard around. It was just a piece of computer paper with her name written across it and nothing else. “The list is short tonight.” Ray twitched his head toward the door. “Go on inside.”
Flattered to her teats, Emerson mumbled her thanks and made her way into the bar.
This was her first time in Sammy’s, and it was a lot different than she’d imagined. The lights were dim and hanging from exposed, dark wooden rafters, and every square inch of floor was covered in mismatched tables and shifter groupies.
A tiny woman with straight, dyed-red hair popped her head in front of Emerson’s face. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Startled, Emerson jumped and squeaked, but a bevy of beauties currently leaving the bar looking angry stopped her escape.
The redhead cackled and handed her a shot glass of something that smelled strongly of poison. Whiskey, she’d guess.
“I’m Willa. Bash told me to bring you straight back ’cause the bar skanks won’t let him move.” Willa threw her head back, gulping her own shot of what looked like orange juice. “I’m on juice shots tonight because I’m currently trying to get knocked up by that burly beefcake in the corner.” Willa pointed to a group of sexy giants gathered beside the stage. “You know, I don’t think Kirk and Jake planned this out very well because we can barely move in here and everyone reeks of pheromones.” She jammed her hand forward. Her nails were painted black with little pink slivers on them. “Worms. Red wigglers, specifically. I like your nails, too. Red like the sex-pot you are, raar.” Willa clawed her hands and winked behind her thick glasses. “Down that shot, girl. You’ll be holding court at the bar with Bash, and the ladies in here are territorial.”
“Oh, okay,” Emerson said uncertainly. Was she allowed to drink? Dr. Mallory hadn’t told her not to, and she still had two days until insemination. She supposed this was her last hurrah, which left her a little breathless to think about.
“Bottoms up, beautiful,” Willa said, pushing Emerson’s shot glass toward her lips.
Well, okay then. Emerson gulped the burning liquor and yelped when Willa grabbed her hand and yanked her forward, maneuvering the crowd like a pro. The music was loud, but really good. The Beck Brothers of the Ashe Crew, Brighton and Denison, were rocking out on stage, and Willa lifted her empty shot glass in a silent cheers to them.
Brighton grinned and jerked his chin in a greeting as he played a solo on his guitar. Emerson had heard they were good, but now she realized she’d truly been missing out by avoiding Sammy’s.
On the way to the bar, she was nearly squished to oblivion as she played the ball in a perfumed pinball machine of women.
Bash stood a head taller than everyone around him, and as Willa told her, “I’m going to get you another shot,” Emerson came to a stop just to take him in.