“Nice. And when they ask why you’re not going to Rock Solid?”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip as I thought about it. Crap. Why hadn’t I thought about that?
“Mia, please stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Thank you.” He rolled a shoulder. “Well?”
I let the unanswered question go. “My brother is uncomfortable with the idea of it, so you’re showing me the other hot joints in town.”
He chuckled low and wrapped his arm around my shoulders to pull me out of the way of a cyclist. Stupid idiot should have been on the road.
“Sounds like you’ve got this all figured out, then,” West said, letting me go. “Good timing. We’re here.”
I looked up at the blazing sign above my head. It flashed neon red: Sin Ropa.
“That’s Spanish, right?”
“Think so. Ready to go in?”
I shrugged. Didn’t matter if I was or not. I was going in regardless.
“Well well, West Rykman. What are you doing here?” the guy behind the counter asked. “Brought a friend? She worked out your place isn’t all it’s made out to be?”
West smirked. Not the dirty, sexy one I was used to. This one was...condescending.
“Not yet, Ryan. A friend’s sister. She’s in charge of his fiancée’s bachelorette party and he doesn’t want it at my place, so I’m showing her around.”
Ryan peered around West at me and ran his gaze up and down my body in a leering way. It hovered on my chest for a long moment. “She could show me around.”
“I’m sure my tits are happy to hear it, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to go inside.” I smiled tightly as West covered a laugh with a cough.
Ryan’s eyes snapped up to mine, finally, and he nodded.
“Thank you. Although I’d work on your customer service. You’re at the bottom of my list and I haven’t even seen the other places yet.”
I stalked toward the thick curtains—ugh, how cliché—that separated the entrance hall from the club. Even West made an amused grunting sound behind me, but when we entered, it was so dark that I couldn’t see him when I turned around.
He immediately took hold of my shoulders and steered me through the crowds of people. There weren’t hundreds, but Sin Ropa was set up differently than Rock Solid. Instead of one long stage, there were several smaller stages all around the club. It made the tables haphazard as people had clearly moved them to get near the guy they wanted to watch.
We finally got to the bar after dodging an almost-spill by a chick who was overenthusiastically stuffing her dollars into this guy’s pants, and West deposited me on a stool, stepping up close to me.
“What do you want to drink?” he yelled into my ear.
“I want to see the cocktail menu.”
“Turn around. Plenty of cock there.”
I frowned at him, and he frowned right back.
“Cocktail,” I yelled. “Not cock!” My shout drew the attention of the bartender, who looked at me funny.
Well, we aren’t all here for the peen, lady.
“Oh!” He waved to the bartender, who came over after taking a good, long look at him.
Yeah. Didn’t blame her. At all.
“What can I getcha, honey?” she approvingly asked him, a Southern twang to her voice.
“Do you have a drinks menu? Cocktails?”
She reached behind the bar and pulled out two different menus. “Drinks,” she shouted, putting one in front of him. “Cocktails.” She put the other in front of me, her smile bright. “Let me know when y’all’re ready to order.”
West offered a thumbs-up and grabbed the menu. “She’s perky.”
“She wants inside your pants,” I corrected him, picking the cocktail menu up and looking it over.
Hmm. They were basic. Very basic—all of them could have been found in any bar or restaurant in pretty much the entire country. Classics? Sure. But a girl doesn’t always want a classic. Sometimes she wants her mind blown.
“Exactly. Perky.” He flashed me a cocky grin and waved her back over. “I might hire her.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he would. Never mind that he was... Well, I had no idea how old he was, but he was a businessman and he was as cocky as an eighteen-year-old guy who just got laid for the first time.
He pointed at my menu. “Drink?”
“Oh, uh, mojito, please.” I handed the cocktail menu back to the girl and pulled my phone out of my purse.
West looked at me, amusement dancing across his face. “What are you doing?”
I glanced at the girl mixing my cocktail and leaned up. I rested my hand against his arm to steady myself. “Making a list,” I said right into his ear, my voice slightly raised. “What was the name of this place?”
“Sin Ropa.”
I typed it into the Notes section of my phone, followed by an abbreviated list of cocktails. I sure hoped I’d remember that LIIT wasn’t some fandango slang and translated to Long Island Iced Tea tomorrow.