Never Say Never, Part One (Second Chance Romance, Book 1) by Melissa Shaw

It’s nothing special.” He dropped down beside her again. “Listen, are you okay? Do you want me to stick around tonight?”  
    Emily quirked an eyebrow at him. “I think I’ll survive.” Another lie.  
    “Ah come on. I’ll sleep on the couch, woman, you don’t have to worry.”  
    She lightened up a little and allowed herself a smile. Having him around had calmed her nerves, perhaps it was better if he stayed the night, in case Nick and his buddies came back for another peek.  
    “All right. But no funny stuff,” she joked, and he clipped her chin lightly with his forefinger.  
    It was an affectionate move which made her want to stay with him on the couch, or invite him into her bed.  
    “No promises.” Chase winked at her and her mouth went dry.  
    “I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.” Emily struggled up, keenly aware that he was likely admiring her ass as she strode off.  
    He was good guy, albeit a guy who refused to talk about himself. Ever.  
    Could she trust him?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    Emily didn’t care what the song was. She was exhausted from the ‘Big Nick scare’ the night before.  
    She grasped the pole, flipped herself upside down and wrapped her legs around it, then slid down until her arms touched the ground. Emily did a backwards handstand off the pole and settled into a split a second later.  
    The men at the end of the stage had their mouths open, watching her bump and grind.  
    Big Nick stood beside the exit as usual, those oversized thumbs in his belt loops, with a Cheshire grin on his pocked, sweaty features.  
    The smoke in the club was a haze above ashtrays and half full drinks. It was 10 in the morning and still the club had a couple regulars flitting about. Men without wives or men with wives who didn’t put out or men who were total sleazebags beside and the strippers gravitated around them.  
    Isis was in, doing lap dances with about as much skill as an amoeba, though lap dances weren’t exactly an art form or anything. The stripper was pretty except for her over-sized nose and shit attitude.  
    She glanced up mid-dance and met Emily’s gaze, then rolled her eyes and carried on gyrating. The grubby trucker she ‘entertained’ wore an expression glazed with boredom and held a wad of bills he’d yet to insert into Isis’ gaudy pink hot pants.  
    “Nice rack,” an old timer called out at the end of stage, and Emily swayed across the stage and allowed him to insert a fifty into her thong.  
    So far, the morning had been demeaning and Big Nick’s constant presence spurred on the nausea. She’d spew chunks at this rate. He strolled past the end of the stage and winked at her, then guffawed and clapped once. The men ignored him, sipping from drinks, smoking cigarette after cigarette.  
    The strip club’s door opened and Chase entered. Humiliation joined the nausea and Emily retreated to the pole again, but he’d already spotted her. Looked like he meant to make good on that promise of keeping watch on things.  
    It gratified her in a way. She’d started to trust him and his character, and that scared her a lot.  
    Big Nick hadn’t noticed the new addition to the audience yet.  
    Chase sauntered up to him with a shit-eating grin. “Hiya little fella. Long time no see.” He aimed a playful punch at Nick’s shoulder and the bouncer cracked those skew knuckles and growled.  
    “What are you doing here?” Big Nick asked in that typical half-brained drawl.  
    “Oh, ya know, keeping tabs on my favorite club.”  
    They were right at the end of her section of the stage and she was tempted to creep closer and observe. But she wasn’t that crazy.  
    “I’ll be in the back over there if you need me,” Chase spoke too loudly and it was obvious the comment wasn’t aimed at the mini-giant in steel-toed boots.  
    Emily couldn’t help admiring him. He had balls to come back to the club after the beating, but then, he was sober. He’d probably have more