I was having déjà vu, except… I wasn’t.

I wasn’t in my house. I wasn’t hungover. I didn’t have to rush downstairs to Brandon’s aid. Instead, my brother’s stalker was in Manny’s. That’s correct. Code red. Stalker red. Rebecca, the frizzy-lioness-hair stalker had braved my wrath. She was here, folks.

Katrina sidled up next to me. “Too bad you had Suki go home.”

I grunted. She was right. Those two would’ve had an epic showdown. One yelling in the third person, and the other lecturing her on being classy as she was anything except classy.

I grumbled, “Where’s some salt when we need it?”

Katrina barked out a laugh. “You need me to do something?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll handle it. She’s half Brandon’s problem anyway.” I gestured to the rest of the diner. “Just manage everything else.”

Ava went by, her arms straining around a tray of drinks.

“Why is Ava still working?”

My fill-in manager frowned at me. “She said you were understaffed. I should send her home?”

“Long ago.”

Ava paused next to Roy’s perch, and it clicked into place.

What happened to the boyfriend?

“Wait.”

Katrina had started to move away. She paused, and I added, “Just tell her she’s on an hour break. My orders. Then tell the girls she’s done for the night.”

“And when that hour is done?”

I gave her a look. We’d be closed by then.

She gave me a sheepish grin. “Got it, boss.”

Ava would feel guilty, thinking she needed to leave if she wasn’t working. She’d stay with Roy this way. Roy was good. That A-hole boyfriend wasn’t.

“If she doesn’t listen, tell her she’ll have to battle me,” I added.

And on cue, I heard a different battle start up again.

“Rebecca, you need to leave.” My brother’s voice was ripe with irritation, and I saw the white around his lips. He was biting down, hard.

Rebecca wore a red halter top, her breasts almost falling out of it, with bright lipstick to match. She had on daisy dukes that didn’t quite fit her, and a navel ring.

It was inflamed, so I was guessing it was new.

With hooker heels, a not-so-seductive swaying back and forth, and a pink drink in one hand that she kept spilling, my brother officially had a problem.

The stalker was prime entertainment. Our other customers had congregated around her, all except Gus. He was our regular, and though he was sitting two barstools away from her, he was the only one oblivious to her. Hunched over a beer in front of him, he kept his eyes on the television mounted above the bar. ESPN.

“Gus.” I came up behind him and patted his back.

He jerked upright. “A—what? What?!” He turned around, drool sliding down his chin. The front of his shirt was soaked. “Huh?”

Brandon laughed, sounding strained. “Maybe it’s time to go, buddy.”

Gus squinted at him. “You closed?”

Brandon smiled. “Yes.”

The crowd around us said otherwise.

Gus never noticed. “Oh.” His shoulders dropped. He started to slide off his stool, then saw Rebecca and stopped. He pointed at her. “Heeey. Why’s she here then?”

“Because I’ve not finished my drink. It’s not polite to force out a paying customer when her drink isn’t finished.” Rebecca’s face twisted into a scowl, and she began to fold her arms over her chest. Or she would’ve. Her glass got in the way, and the drink sloshed—half on her and half to the floor. It coated the back of one of the stools.

She didn’t seem to notice. Gus either.

“She’s going too.” I moved forward, my voice firm, and locked eyes with her. I plucked the glass from her hand, dumped the remaining contents into the sink behind the bar, and showed it to her. “Your drink is gone. You’re done.”

The side door opened.

Channing stepped inside. He saw us, and whatever he’d been saying to someone outside faded. He took in Brandon’s rigid stance, the way I was standing in front of Rebecca and barked out a laugh.

“Becs,” he called out.

She swung around. Her hair almost hit me. “Wha—oh.” Her tone went from angry to a warmth that could melt butter. “Channing! Hi, helllooo. How are you?”

He came toward us. “Gus, my man. This is where you’ve been hiding?”

Gus was in his late sixties by now. The more sober he was, the less he could hear. Since he was too drunk to see the gawking audience, of course his hearing was like a hawk’s.

He harrumphed, narrowing his eyes, “I know you?”

Channing pretended to be hurt and held his arms out wide. “Gus. Come on. My bar’s your second home.”

At the same time, Rebecca decided to scoot around Channing.

Her heels went left. She went right.

She crumbled to the floor.

“Ow,” she moaned. “That’s not very ladylike.”

She shot Brandon a look, her cheeks reddening, and bit her lip. She grabbed Gus’s stool and started to pull herself up. One of her boobs popped out, and her daisy dukes came up to her waist. She was simultaneously flashing us tits and crotch.

“Can…can…oomph. Can someone help, please?” She shot her hand up, sounding contrite.

And that Rebecca was back.

Gus moved to assist her.

He saw her boob, and zeroed in on it. “You, uh. You. Um.” He pointed at it. “Your lady part is out.”

“What?”

He grabbed her shirt and moved it around, covering her up. Then he reached for her arm. Both of them were unsteady. I didn’t want to worry about Gus breaking a hip, not yet. The guy had been the janitor at school for so many years. No matter how much booze he put in him, I hoped his bones would be sturdy till he was ninety.

“Okay. Here we go.” He was sweating now, wheezing. He moved her hands higher on his arm and grabbed under her biceps.

She let him.

“Okay, up you go. Whoopsie daisy.”

He lifted, and she tried to stand. After a bunch more oomphs, both were up.

Gus’s face was bright red.

Rebecca was sweating too, and she blinked several times. “We did it.” She patted him on the arm. “Good job, Dirk.”

“Oh, yeah!” He thought she was asking for a high five. “Hey there.” He grabbed her arm again, holding it suspended so he could slap it, and down she went.

Her heel went out.

So did he.

Channing must’ve had enough because he motioned for Brandon. As one, they each grabbed one of them under the armpits. Gus/Dirk and Rebecca/Daisy returned to their feet, and Brandon and Channing kept a steadying hand on both of them. When Rebecca paused to stare at the hand on her arm, Brandon cursed. Without a word spoken, he and Channing switched places.

Gus narrowed his eyes at Channing. “What were you saying your name was?”

Channing patted his chest. “Channing Monroe. Remember now?”

“Heeeeeey.” Gus’s finger rose, along with a bright, wide smile. “Yeah. I remember. Your momma used to sit on my lap when she worked at Kitty Titties.”

“No.” Channing shook his head, fighting back a grin. “Close, but no. My mother never worked at Kitty Titties. Wrong titties. We’re Tuesday Tits.”

“You guys have the Thursday Night Titinis. Five-dollar martinis.” Gus was back in the game. “I remember now. You run that place?”

“I do. Yes.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I love the Friday Night Titquila Shots too.” Gus stepped away from the bar. He waited, making sure he wouldn’t fall back before straightening his shoulders. He thrust a hand out.

He started to fall.

Daisy/Rebecca grabbed him.

“Thank you, Daisy.”

She nodded, patting his hand. “No problem, Dirk.”

He turned back to Channing, leaning forward with a serious look on his face. “I want to shake the hand of the man who brought us Thursday Night Titinis. It’s the best idea for social adventurist capital if I ever saw one. And the martinis are top-notch too. Naming the place Tuesday Tits? Genius. Genius.”

Channing shook Gus’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder. “How about we go outside? We’ve got a whole new group of customers coming in lately, and we need to capitalize on them.”

Gus started to go with him, but faltered, looking at Rebecca. “I’d like to be so bold-like and ask for your phone number, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course.”

That took another five minutes. They fumbled with their phones. Both forgot their code to get in, so they passed a napkin back and forth. Rebecca wrote her number on the front and pushed it over to him. “There you go. Now you.”

He flipped it over, wrote his number on the back, and slid it back to her. “There you go.”

“Excellent.” She beamed at him.

Neither picked up the napkin.

Gus nodded, stepped away from the bar and her steadying hand, and cleared his throat. “Milady, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, Dirk.”

He managed a few jerking steps toward the door before Channing clasped him on the shoulder, holding him upright the rest of the way.

Gus looked up at him. “You’re thinking of another theme night?”

“Something like that.”

They were out the door, but we could hear one last Gus comment. “I’ve always thought End of Monogamy Mondays would be a good one.”

They disappeared, but a second later, Channing came back. He slid his eyes toward Brandon before saying, “Becs, guess who mentioned you the other night?”

Her eyes grew hooded, if that was possible. She chewed her lip. “You’re trying to toy with me, get me out of your girlfriend’s hair. I’m not falling for it, Channing. And I know you don’t want my input on your theme nights…”

“Congo asked about you.”

She stopped everything. Her eyes widened. “You’re lying.”

There was a hopeful twinge in her voice.

Channing shook his head. His eyes never left hers. “He said he missed you.” Then he dipped back out, disappearing from the doorway.

Air exploded out of her, and her mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? Don’t kid with me.” A tear formed in her eye. Her voice grew husky, trembling. “Matthew Shephardson’s been the love of my life, all of my life. I knew it. I just knew it. He was lying when he threatened that second order of protection.” Her head went higher. “It was a test. He was making sure I was fully committed.”

She stopped talking, gathering her purse to her chest. “I think it’s time I take myself to bed.”

I wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but I nodded anyway. “Good night, Rebecca.”

She threw a distracted smile at me and moved away from the bar in much the same way as Gus/Dirk had—just a few steps at first. When her legs didn’t give out, she started for the door.

“Okay, then. Goodbye, everyone. I’m off to find my love.”

I glanced out the window and saw a crowd forming. “Roy?”

He was stuffing a fry into his mouth at the counter. “Huh?”

I waved to where Rebecca was trying to open the screen door. “Can you give her a ride home?”

Rebecca pushed the screen door open. Next she struggled with the step down. She forgot it was there.

Roy hurried past me. “Of course.” He went to her, touching her arm gently. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh, of course.” Her smile was blinding.

He dipped his head toward me, assisting her the rest of the way out. “Thank you, Miss Jax.”

I wasn’t done.

I turned back around. “Ava?”

“Hmmm?” Her head popped up.

I motioned toward Roy and Rebecca. They’d only gone one step. Rebecca kept thinking there was another step. There wasn’t.

“Roy, will you give Ava a ride home after your first patron?”

Ava smoothed her hands down her jeans, coming to my side. “Are you sure?”

I eyed her. “What happened to your boyfriend?”

“Oh.” Her eyes dropped. “He—uh…we broke up.”

I pressed my lips together, but she was better off. “You were supposed to be off work a long time ago.”

She lifted her head, her cheeks flushing. “The tips are good, and…” Her eyes darted to Roy.

“Go.” I patted her on the back. “You’re off shift. Ride all night with him, if you want, but you’re no longer working.”

She squealed and hurried to take Rebecca’s other arm as Channing was coming back in.

He grinned at me. “Gus is making a list of theme-night ideas while he waits for Roy. Looks like he’ll be waiting for him a long time.” He stared at the trio that just left, stopping in front of me. His hands came to my shoulders, and he began to rub them.

“Hey, man.” Brandon waved to him, going back behind the bar. “Thanks for the assist there.”

Channing said something back. I wasn’t listening. His hands were still rubbing.

“Holy shit. That feels good.”

“Your office?” His head dipped down, grazing my ear. “Please?”

Hell to the yes.

Once we were in, I started to turn, but he stopped me.

I heard the door lock behind us at the same time he pulled me back against him. Pressing up behind me, I felt what else was ready for me.

I glanced up at him. “Be honest. Gus did that for you, didn’t he? He got you all excited talking about social adventurist capital theme nights.”

“You know it.” He pressed into me again. “Oh. What happened with Suki?”

I told him.

He frowned, studying me. “Use her.”

I frowned back at him. “What do you mean?”

He smoothed the back of my hair, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I mean, use her for what she has to offer. She’s entertaining. She’s obsessed with cooking, so let her go as a manager, but have her do gourmet dinners. It can be a whole event where people sign up to watch her cook. And if you want to really add to the entertainment, have Brandon be her assistant or something. The two bicker like a married couple.”

Maybe. I liked the idea.

He asked, “You open in the morning?”

“Yeah.” I stepped back, though I didn’t want to. “Katrina’s going to close this weekend for me, and next week.”

He nodded, taking Brandon’s seat and then pulling me onto his lap. “I gotta take off in the morning.”

I stiffened in his arms. “What time?”

“Early.”

So neither of us would be getting a lot of sleep tonight.

Normal people would go home, bump uglies in a nice and comfortable manner, then settle in for as much sleep as possible. Not us, and most certainly not Channing. If he had to get up early, and it was already nearing one in the morning, he was going to draw out the fucking.

I eyed him. “Do I want to ask why you’re getting up so early?”

Tuesday Tits opened at eleven.

“No.” He trailed a finger down my arm. I was half entranced by it. “It’s crew stuff.”

Oh.

I was in his arms, and I knew what would happen next.

He would pull me closer to him. He would kiss my neck, my throat, my lips. His hands would go to my hips. One would slide to my stomach, and he would start making me pant. The other would dip into my pants.

He’d make me hot and bothered, slipping a finger inside me.

It didn’t matter where we were.

I’d melt in his arms until he lifted me and placed me where he wanted. On the desk, on the bed, the counter, the couch, against the shower wall, against a door. It didn’t matter. I’d fall under his spell and forget that he was going to leave my bed for his crew, right up until he had to go.

That’s what normally happened.

There was a but coming.

His hand started for me, and I caught his wrist.

“What?”

Things were different now.

“I want to know what’s going on with the crew. I want you to tell me.”

He pulled back and regarded me.

He hadn’t hit the lights, but some illumination filtered under the door from the hallway. It was enough, just barely, to cast him in shadow. I felt him put a wall up.

“You don’t like my crew stuff.”

I pressed my lips together and swallowed. The knee-jerk reaction was there. Years of fighting about his crew had set me off. I tamped it down.

“I have loved you almost all my life,” I told him. “And I don’t see myself loving anyone else.”

God.

I stripped away all the layers we’d erected over the years. I was so scared of losing him, I pushed him away most of the time. Or I let him pull away.

But we’re different now, I told myself.

We had to be different. I had to be different.

“Heather?”

I shook my head. “This is it, Channing. We either make this time work or…” Oh, fuck. Was I actually going to say this? My throat was burning. “Or we need to walk away, and I mean it.”

He leaned forward, his face coming back into that little bit of light.

I could see his eyes again.

And I felt a little stronger inside. I felt surer, more certain.

This was the right direction to go. It had to be. I didn’t know if I could survive another Naly, another promise of so much more, only to lose it all.

“Shit or get off the pot, you mean?”

I nodded. “Shit or go somewhere else to shit.”

His mouth curved up. “If that doesn’t put me in the mood, then I don’t know what will.”

I mirrored his smile. It clicked, whatever it was, and fell into place.

Channing was never going to leave his crew, so it was up to me. I had to be okay with it. If not, then I’d have my answer.

“I want to know what you’re doing tomorrow,” I said again.

He was so close. He sat up straighter. His arms tightened around me, pulling me to straddle him. His hand cupped the side of my face.

I didn’t know he’d touch me there, but I loved it. I closed my eyes, savoring him. His other hand went to my waist. He pressed against me. Holding me. It meant something.

He held me like I was the most fragile piece of glass.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked.

I shuddered, my hands resting against his stomach, feeling the ridges of his muscles there. “Yes.”

I had to know.

I had to try.

“Okay.”