Free The Club by Tara Brown writing as Sophie Starr Page A

hand.
“I’m good.” I try to mask my voice but it comes out hoarse. Logan comes to my
aid, taking my hand in his and pulling me down the stairs. He glances back at
his brother. “Don't stumble in here at three in the morning either. Go home for
once.”
    We turn and
walk down the road. My heart races like a rabbit’s and my throat is tight but
the moment we are passed the street we both live on, it ends. The feeling
inside of me is gone. It’s replaced with a type of relief I almost want to cry
from. I had been convincing myself he wasn't the guy and he isn’t. Yes, a
worse-case scenario is it’s his brother, but I can live with that over it being
Logan.
    I turn and
smile wide. “What’s this restaurant like?”
    He shrugs.
“I’ve had the reservation for six months. First time eating here.”
    I scowl. “You
made a reservation six months ago for dinner here? Was there a list?”
    He shakes his
head. “No. I just knew I had to clear my head before I asked you out. I’m ready
now.”
    I pause on the
street, staring at him. “You knew who I was six months ago?”
    “Of course.
You think I climb into bed with just anyone?” He gives me the wry grin. “I mean
in business. I knew who you were and I wanted so badly to be with you. But at
the time I was still grieving my loss and couldn't do it. I didn't want
anything more than just a night. So I set a deadline—six months and made
the reservation to hold myself to it. I knew I would do whatever I had to, to
get you to go to dinner.”
    My heart beats
a mile a minute again, but for all the right reasons. “You must have known
about Evan then too?”
    He nods.
    I lean in, pressing
my lips against his. I have a terrible feeling he’s been to the club too, but
it doesn't matter to me. I don't care. I just want him and dinner and candid
talks over wine. I want a relationship and to be held, not pushed down on a
dirty floor in a seedy bar.
    His hands
encompass my waist, holding me tight to him. The kiss is loaded with potential
and promise but it’s left there. Like we both need to see where this road will
take us. The good part is that at least we are willing to try again, even with
the battered hearts we share.
    I owe that to
the club.

 

Epilogue

 
    “I want to
give you something. It was given to me a year ago and I really think you could
use it.”
    Brandon gives
me a look. “If it’s some coke, I have my own friends, but thanks. So I gained a
little weight, that's no reason to recommend going meth head.”
    “Oh my God.” I
roll my eyes. His bitterness toward love and life since things didn't work out
with Hugh has been annoying beyond belief. I pull the small card from my purse.
“It helped me move on and get past some of my insecurities about myself and
helped me with some issues I was having, even if it was a bit unorthodox. To
say the least.” I reach across the desk and hand it to him.
    He looks
confused, turning the card over as he scratches his head, looking sideways at
me. “What the hell is this? I was hoping for a vacation but you hand me a card
that has a weird number on it?” He looks flabbergasted.
    “It’s a card
that will get you into a down-low dirty sex club, where all your dreams can come
true or you can choose to walk away and find a fresh start.”
    “Are you
kidding me?” he asks, looking more than shocked.
    I nod, not
sure if I regret my decision or not.
    “I have heard
of these and have always wanted one. Where did you get it?” he whispers,
looking to the door.
    “I got it from
a friend of a friend. Have you seen the movie Fight Club? Same rules apply with
this. You can’t talk about it or mention it at all. You text that number with
your name and someone will contact you. When you’re done with it, you pass it
on to a person who needs it.” I grab his hand. “I am giving it to you because I
think you might actually be lost and this helped me find myself. We can’t ever
talk about it again.”
    “I know