Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see and he’s just looking at me with normal eyes. Or maybe he’s just actually hungry. Maybe I’m hungry, too. I mean, I’mhungry-hungry, like for food, since I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But when I look at him, I think maybe I’m hungry for something else.
I don’t know.
I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.
I wore darker makeup tonight, and a glittery barrette is holding back a French braid down the side of my hair that ties back into a curly bun. I don’t often put in the effort with my shorter hair, but when I have the time, I love trying out different hairstyles. Meanwhile, Dex has probably gotten used to seeing me with no makeup and air-dried hair.
That’s probably why he’s looking at me like that. He doesn’t recognize me.
I almost don’t recognize myself.
Milton’s sixteen-year-old niece, Madison, was able to babysit for us on short notice, and he’s right downstairs should she need anything. The baby is in good hands, and I’m learning more and more about Milton and how he’s a pretty good dude.
I take Jack from Madison and give him a squeeze since I’ve become the closest thing he has to a mother over the last week—a scary thought indeed—and then Dex asks if I’m ready.
I nod, and we head out to the elevator. He’s quiet as we step on, and I wonder what the night has in store for us.
“You look nice,” he says awkwardly as the doors seal us into privacy.
“So do you.”
He clears his throat. “I meant to say beautiful. Not nice. You look beautiful, Ainsley.”
My cheeks burn at his compliment and the way his voice gets all raspy when he says my name. I force myself to remember that this isn’t a real date. He lied to Jack’s mother that I’m his girlfriend, and his publicist wanted him at a charity event. That’s all this is. “Thank you.”
But when we arrive on the red carpet and he grabs my hand, it suddenly doesn’tfeellike that’s all this is.
“Dex, who’s your date?” some reporter yells.
He looks over at me, and I look up at him. We ignore the people yelling at us, and I’ll be dubbed the mystery woman in the tabloids by morning.
I kind of like being Dex’s mystery woman despite what I told Ivy.
Tonight’s charity event is Vegas-themed, and it features both gambling and drinking. We start by heading over toward the bar.
I’ve seen Dex with a drink several times in the week I’ve been living with him, but as for myself…I’m not much of a drinker at all. I hate the way wine tastes, and beer is disgusting. I can tolerate a vodka and Sprite if it’s heavy on the Sprite and has a cherry or three thrown in, and so that’s what I ask the bartender for.
Dex opts for straight whiskey, and I’m not the best at hiding what I’m thinking. He chuckles when he sees my nose wrinkled in disgust.
“You don’t like whiskey?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“You’ve probably only ever had the cheap shit. Try this.” He hands me his glass, and I take a sip. As I do, I realize how very much it’s something two people might do on a date.
But he’s right. The sip I take is smooth, where the whiskey I’ve tried before had a bitter aftertaste and a gross burn as it slid down my throat. This one pulses a warm feeling through my entire chest.
Sort of like Dex is starting to do.
We take our drinks and head over toward one of the poker tables, where Dex proceeds to teach me how to play Texas Hold’em. We watch at first since the tables are full, and he explains each part of the game to me. The goal is to make the best hand with two cards you’re dealt down and the five cards the dealer has face-up.
Someone loses all their money and gets up, and he nods to the chair as if I should sit.
“Dex, I don’t have any money,” I whisper to him.
“I got you. You’re just sitting in for me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s insistent. I take the seat.
