Page 130 of Blush

“It’s a male revue. I’m supposed to have fun.” I let out a huff. “For God’s sake, Jack, it’s Frankie’s bachelorette party.”

He grips my shoulders. “Damn it, Mandy.”

“It wasn’t my idea. The guy pulled me up to the floor.”

“You didn’t have to go.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. No one held a gun to my head. Maybe I wanted to go, Jack. Did you ever think of that?”

“This isn’t like you.”

I move one of his hands off my shoulders and shrug free of the other one. “How do you know what’s like me and what’s not? I haven’t heard from you in a month, Jackson. A month.” I can’t help the break in my voice on the last word.

“The phone works both ways,” he says softly.

I hold his gaze. What was he saying? He was waiting on me to callhim?

He drops my arm, and a look of—I’m not sure—sorrow? crosses his features, landing in those gorgeous green-gold eyes.

He’s quiet for a few seconds, until— “Do you still want to go to the club?”

I’m so shocked, I can only blink up at him. It’s nearly one in the morning, so the club is probably still open. ButdoI still want to go with him? If the pounding of my heart is any indication, I know the answer.

I nod as I text Frankie that I’m leaving. I don’t want her to worry.

Jackson hails a cab, and before I know it, we’re settled into the back seat and pulling away from the curb.

He pulls a velvet choker out of his pants pocket. “You’ll need this.” He secures it around my neck.

“Maybe I don’t need it.” I hesitate a moment. “Maybe Iwantother men to pay attention to me at the club.”

“Damn it, Mandy. You really have no idea what this is all about, do you?”

I rest a hand on his arm. “You don’t give me enough credit for knowing my own mind,” I say. “When will it stop, Jack? I don’t hear from you in more than a month and—”

“The phone works both ways, Mandy.”

What, is he stuck on repeat? His words only frustrate me further.

“You’re the one who should’ve reached out. You’re the one who refused to answer my question that night.”

He seems to have no answer for that, for which I’m grateful. We spend the rest of the cab ride in silence.

Continuing in silence, we exit the cab, and I’m still wearing Jackson’s jacket. It’s a brisk night, and he must be cold.

And you know what? I don’t give a damn.

He pulls the blindfold out of his pocket next.

“Mandy—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know the freaking drill. Put the damned thing on me.”

I don’t know why it matters. Does he really think I’m going to tell someone about this club? How to get into it? I signed their nondisclosure agreement.

By now the path is familiar to me. Through the back of the bar, down a flight of stairs, through a narrow hallway.

And then—