Unconditionally (Brown County #4) Read Free Page B

the opposite side of the spectrum.
    He was sans uniform and in a pair of dark denim jeans, with cowboy boots peeking out from beneath his pant legs. I realized that I was taking entirely too much time perusing his ensemble. If I was already going this far, I might as well check out the rest of the package.
    Continuing to skim my eyes over his extremely fine exterior, I took in that he was wearing a rather snug fitting polo shirt that was tucked into those amazing jeans, and it was topped off with a silver belt buckle. With the dimmed lights in the bar it was hard to tell exactly what his buckle said, but I imagined that if he was anything like me, it would be something naughty.
    I picked up the toothpick that held the green olive from my glass and leisurely placed it in between my slightly parted lips, sucking the remains of my martini from the meaty, bitter garnishment.
    Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off of my mouth, so I supposed I was being a bit seductive in my act to eat the olive. No harm in that, right?
    Well aware that I left his question unanswered, I was getting ready to right my place in my seat until someone on the stage cleared their throat into a microphone.
    Catching both of our attention, Ethan and I turned to where the stage was in full view in front of us. And who was gracing the stage was enough to take my breath away, Roman in all his shirtless glory, just seeing him was enough to begin to turn my night around.
    The interesting thing about Roman was that he didn’t have a last name. Well, I’m sure that he was born with one but didn’t acknowledge it now.
    He was just Roman—kind of like Madonna or Cher. A persona so powerful that they didn’t need a last name to associate them with.
    Lord have mercy, he was hot. I felt a slow and steady flush creep up my cheeks. It wasn’t all that often that I felt flustered but that scrumptious piece of man could get me all hot and bothered.
    The way his presence took up the area, I could just imagine a Magic Mike performance breaking out on the stage.
    Disappointment showed in my features as he didn’t proceed to dance to a sexy and seductive tune but rather introduced Big Pete’s ‘new owner’ Gwendolyn Shaw.
    I didn’t get to process any thoughts because the stage blacked out just as soon as Roman descended the stairs and a familiar beat began blaring through the building.
    Jay Z’s voice was first to pump through the speakers.
    The stage was still pitch black until the spotlight began flickering on and off towards stage left and right, never once stopping in the middle. It wasn’t until it was time for Rihanna’s part did the bright spotlight snap on in the center, illuminating a woman dressed in a short black trench coat spread eagle on a metal chair clutching a closed umbrella.
    I anxiously shifted myself in my seat making myself a little more comfortable to watch what was without a doubt going to be a stellar performance of “Umbrella.”
    Big Pete’s was known for their lip syncing performances amongst the drag kings and queens and from the looks of what was partaking on the stage, we were going to be in for a real treat.
    Gwen stood up from the chair dancing her way around it with the upmost provocative precision. Swiveling her hips around in circles, her hands never staying in just one place on her body.
    By the second verse she slowly disrobed the coat, leaving only a leather bustier and panties in its wake. Paired over fishnet stockings that were being held up by a garter belt and she had all the women in the house wishing to get into those panties and every man pissed that she was of the wrong gender for their liking.
    Now I liked my men to dress like a full on male, but that didn’t stop my astonishment and being in complete awe of her rendition.
    She began popping her hips and using that umbrella in ways that could possibly be illegal in at least twenty-three states. Twirling around, that umbrella was being used as her own personal