My head whips up so fast I’m likely to give myself whiplash."Rachel?What—" That’s all I get out, my mouth going bone dry as I look at her.She’s cut her hair.It now falls in loose waves around her face to just below her chin.It shows off her features, especially those hot fudge eyes.She’s in a short black dress, with the legs she teased me with earlier appearing long and lean.Impressive on her short frame.
Her shoes can only be described as fuck me shoes.
I didn’t know she owned shoes like that.
She cannot go out on the town wearing those shoes.
Rachel sees me staring at them, and she poses, popping one foot up and then the other.
"I … I like your shoes," I finally manage to croak out.In my brain, I picture her leaving them on.And nothing else.
"Thanks.They’re Ophelia’s."She does the little model-y poses again.Jesus, she’s adorable and sexy all at the same time.
"You should keep them.Or get a pair just like them.Or lots of pairs just like them.Your legs look …" I don’t know how to finish that sentence.Or why those words are even leaving my mouth in the first place.
She is sitting sideways on the chair.She leans back, as if on a swing, extending her legs out in front of her, crossing one on top of the other."I mean, if you want to see sexy, you should see the rubber boots I wear when I’m filming for work."She lowers her legs and leans toward me over the table in one smooth movement."Now those are hot," she whispers.
I lean in, matching her position."I bet you can talk real dirty in those."
"Trust me, those boots have seen some shit."
I can’t help it.I burst out laughing.The head tipped back, hands on belly kind of laugh.Ophelia sits to Rachel’s right, directly across from Xavier, who’s sitting next to me.
"What’d I miss?"Ophelia says.
Rachel lifts her foot again."TJ was just admiring my footwear.Naturally, I told him they’re yours."
While I wouldn’t say I’m a connoisseur of women’s footwear, even I understand certain labels mean a certain price tag.There’s no telltale red sole from that fancy French brand.The name of Jimmy Choo isn’t stamped on the bottom.In theory, there’s nothing special about these heels, other than the feet they’re currently on.
"Ophelia, I’ll give you $500 for those shoes."The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"I didn’t know you had a thing for women’s shoes, Doyle," Xavier says dryly."I’m not sure how to break it to you, but they might be just a smidge too small.Not to mention, I think they look better on Rachel."
I meet Rachel’s gaze."They’re not for me.They’re for her."
I have no idea where any of this is coming from.It’s as if I’m powerless to stop the words tumbling out of my mouth.
"Are you drunk?"Rachel raises an eyebrow.
I shake my head."Can’t drink before a game."
"Yeah, well, I think I’m gonna need a drink."She flags down the waitress and orders two Cadillac margaritas.
"Two?"She cannot hold her liquor well enough to handle two margaritas.
"One is for Ophelia.We discussed it on the way down."
"Oh, what else did you discuss?"Curiosity is definitely going to kill me where Rachel is concerned.
"Our game plan for tonight.We’re going to take the tram to the Luxor to go to the casino.I’m crossing two things off in one day!My list is going to be thirty percent done, which is about twenty-nine more percents than I ever thought I’d accomplish."
Her words are like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.She’s not here for me.She’s not interested in me.She’s trying to fulfill her sister’s dying wishes.That’s it.I just happen to be one of those dying wishes.
Of course, there’s no other reason.I know my worth.I just need to keep reminding myself of that.Just like she’s not wearing the shoes and dress for me.She’s wearing them for everyone else.
"Hey," Rachel says, placing her hand on mine."Are you okay?"
Her eyes are full of hope and light, something I haven’t seen before.The sadness has gone away, at least for now.I’m not going to do anything to bring her down.
