How I always get sucked into these things with Shannon, I’ll never know.
It’s way too late to be out anywhere on a Tuesday night, but here I am in her car yet again as she gets in line for the parking lot of the dumpiest club I’ve ever seen in my entire thirty-four years on this planet. Even in the dark, the gold and black building, with its neon purple and pink trim, is enough to make me cringe. A black sign with a slowly flashing neon pink light proclaims the place: Wild Hare Ranch Gentlemen’s Club.
I don’t normally go to these types of places.
Okay, so I actually don’t go to any type of place. I have a pretty strict four-stop rotation—the library where I work, the grocery store, the coffee shop down the street, and the small sandwich place next to it. Every other place I’ve been outside of that in the last six months has been because my new neighbor, Shannon, started making it her mission to drag me out into public.
I’m 100% an introvert and proud of it. I don’t like crowds or loud places. I’m not much of a drinker, and the last guy I dated was enough of a moocher that I swore off men and haven’t quite gotten around to actively “unswearing them” since. It’s been two years, and while my lady bits may have cobwebs, staying home is at least warm and quiet. Draco, my bearded dragon, and I can hang out on the couch together and read a crazy romance novel like the one I was in the middle of one when Shannon showed up at my door a little bit ago.
Tonight’s book was one of the crazier ones my coworkers like to tease me about reading. It was about a woman who turns into a pyramid every night and yet still stumbles into a hot love triangle with two former best friends. She was literally an inanimate object one-third of the day, and she still managed to find a decent relationship. Why can’t I ever stumble into a love triangle with two hot guys? Heck, stumbling into even just one decent guy—hot or not—would be great at this point.
Anyway, Draco was already asleep on my chest, and I had just gotten to the “good” part when Shannon showed up talking about Ladies’ Night, Galentine’s Day, and how I needed to get out more.
So here I am, the day before Valentine’s Day, freezing my ass off on my way to a strip club in the sticks.
I tug self-consciously at the way-too-short skirt Shannon insisted I wear. It keeps riding up and exposes way too much of my thighs to the air, pebbling the entire surface of my skin with goosebumps. I’ve read that line in a book somewhere before—“pebbling the surface of my skin with goosebumps”—it was supposed to sound hot. I think it was a reaction the sexy Alpha managed to evoke in his fated mate, but looking down at my lap, it just makes my pale skin look like raw chicken.
Super sexy. I’m really going to be turning heads tonight.
Outside the club, we sit in a long line of cars for a good fifteen minutes. The road ahead of us leading to the club is a massive sea of tail lights and with every minute we spend in line, I start feeling more and more hopeful that we won’t be getting in.
When it’s finally our turn, Shannon pulls into the parking lot and is stopped by a tall werewolf in partial shift. He’s wearing an orange reflective vest over his jacket and waves us toward him with a flashlight. His ears are down and he looks incredibly defeated. I’m sure he’d rather be anywhere else than here freezing his ass off on a bitterly cold February night.
Maybe he’s going to send us away. The parking lot is packed.
“Parking lot is full,” he grumbles in a monotone voice, “but if you pull up to the front, we have a complimentary valet set up. You’ll see the sign.” My heart sinks slightly. I guess I am wearing this skirt in public tonight.
Shannon smiles her brilliant smile at him, but he ignores her and moves on to the next car behind us. Carefully, she maneuvers the car down the single lane marked off by safety cones and gets in line behind a BMW.
“Cheer up, Kat! We’re not going to a funeral. Come on, this is going to be fun!” she insists, patting me on the leg.
I’m about to say something incredibly rude back when the doors open on both sides of the car.
“Good evening ladies,” a wolf says in a voice so deep and gravelly it sends shivers down my spine. This man is also in partial shift—his ears are high on his head, and he’s practically covered in hair. A large hand reaches for mine and pulls me gently out of my seat to a standing position before I can even protest. “Happy Galentine’s Day, love. Welcome to the Wild Hare Ranch for Ladies’ Night. If you head towards the right, there is no waiting for ladies and no cover. Enjoy your evening.” He winks at me, and I manage to stop staring long enough to mutter a thank you before being dragged away by Shannon.
“It’s not polite to stare,” she giggles as she links her arm through mine and drags me to the door. We step past a line of men still waiting to get inside.
“Why are there so many guys here if it’s ladies’ night?”
Shannon laughs. “That’s the whole point of ladies’ night, silly. Guys go where the numbers are in their favor.”
The bass pumping through speakers hits us before we’re even completely through the door. Inside, the dance floor is packed with girls as more wolves in partial shift guard the edges, keeping the men out. Tables are lined against the walls and pushed to the far corners and edges of the club. On the far left side of the room sits a long L-shaped bar. People are already three deep, lined up for drinks, even with barmaids wandering the outer edges selling bottles to the people who haven’t made it that far.
“What do you want to drink?” Shannon asks.
“You’re going to go stand in that line?”
“You bet I am. I plan on having fun tonight.”
“Uhhh…” I don’t drink, not as a rule, but mostly because I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. “A bottle of water, if they have any.”
“You’re not drinking?”
“I don’t think—“
“Awesome,” she says, handing me her keys. “You can be the DD. I’ll grab you a water.”
“I’m going to go find us a seat!” I yell at her back. She gives me a thumbs-up as she walks away, and I’m left to slide through the crowd on my own.
