After what felt like five seconds, Clint smacked his shoulder. “Show time, Red.”
Wobbly from booze and terror, he got slowly to his feet. Dom popped his neck, swung his arms, and bounced on the balls of his feet. They all had on the fake jeans and soft blue work shirts with Velcro behind the line of buttons. Clint held out their hard hats and reminded them the jeans were only held together by a long strip of Velcro along the inseam and outside of the legs so they should make sure they didn’t do anything to make them come apart too early.
Dom laughed and readjusted his crotch. “Things’re making my balls itch.” Kieran decided to ignore the way his brother was grinning in favor of being horrified by what lay ahead. He took a breath, glaring down at the denim he had to rip off and the shirt he’d strip out of in exchange for a few bucks. The opening strains of the music they’d been practicing to blasted through the club. Clint grinned at him then smacked Dom’s ass.
“It’s show time, Love brothers.” He stopped and regarded them a minute. “You know, you guys might have something there.”
“Please just let me get this over with so I can go home and dip myself in bleach,” Kieran growled. Dom laughed. Clint squared his shoulders and led them out onto the stage.
Chapter Nineteen
Cara stared through the windshield of Kent’s BMW. She flinched at the touch of his palm to her leg and had to acknowledge that she’d forgotten he’d driven her out here.
“Honey, if you don’t feel like it, then don’t go.”
“No, I gotta. It’s Helen’s big night, you know.” She gestured toward the nondescript, windowless gray building. The sign under the flashing pink-neon words “Pussycat Club,” read: Closed for Private Party until 10 p.m. Open to the public 10:01 p.m.-2 a.m.
He patted her thigh, parked, hopped out, and opened her door for her. She tried to smile at him. She’d gone on a seek-and-find expedition on his phone for reasons that still escaped her, unearthing even more distressing evidence of his secret life. And now, today, a mere few days from marrying the man who’d apparently broken up with his boyfriend for good a few days ago, something clicked in her head. She owed it to herself to confront him—to out him at least to her.
She gripped Kent’s arm. “I know about him.”
His face paled white in the lurid neon glow. “Know what about whom?”
Keeping a grip on his hand, the car door between them, she experienced a jolt of resolve to make this work. “We have to talk. Preferably before we take our marriage vows.” She sidestepped him and headed for the club door, her stomach heavy like she’d swallowed a stone.
“Let’s talk now. I mean...uh...I need you to understand that whatever it is you think you know about is over. Completely finished. I love you. I’m marrying you. My other...relationships no longer matter to me.”
With her chest surprisingly light and free of anything resembling jealousy she turned to face him. “We’ll talk. I know you love me.” He started to say something else but she ducked inside, unwilling to entertain the conversation yet.
Cara had no illusions or preconceived notions about gay men, or bisexual men or whatever Kent might be. His mother must know, which would explain her odd behavior on occasion. Cara felt sure his father did not, and would not, ever know that his young, successful lawyer son liked fucking men as much as women and that he had until about three days ago, sustained a relationship with a man who claimed to love him.
The men had met online, in some chat space, about a year-and-a-half ago. It took them almost a full year to meet face-to-face, which would mean Kent had already been with the guy when he’d seduced her at that bar. Cara shivered, trying to parse the bizarre combination of emotions clashing around inside her.
The photos were printed on her psyche as if in indelible ink—the men never sent anything with their faces. But they must have used a camera once when they’d had sex. She’d know Kent’s body—all of it—anywhere. And that piercing thing Kent’s boyfriend sported...it disgusted and fascinated her both. But Kent, apparently, loved it, in his mouth and his ass. She forced thoughts about it out of her head, wondering why in the world the man would want to continue the charade with her. But she’d be damned if she could find a second of fault with him otherwise. He loved her, he adored her, downright spoiled her.
The thought of not marrying Kent terrified her on some level. While running back to Kieran certainly no longer posed a viable option. He had Melinda, and had made it clear to Cara their status at the fish fry, even after messing with her yet again. Which she very possibly deserved. She’d stopped listening to any rumors about them, and considering how busy she’d been with all the pre-wedding fuss the days had sped by without her hearing a word spoken of any one of the Love brothers or their women.