She laughed at him.
Over at the Texas Hold’em table, Dieter swiveled when her laugh rang above the chatter of the crowd, but he didn’t look hard at her. That was standard operating procedure, of course. If she had needed help, she would have rested her right arm on top of her headwhile she laughed.
Bastien dropped a black poker chip in the old-fashioned glass on her tray that jingled with other colors of chips. “Besides, after your quick exit from the Monaco Casino, I was worried about you. It’s not every day you see your favorite waitress chased through a crowd by the FBI.”
She leaned in. “They weren’t FBI. I’m not a criminal, I promise.”
Bastien’s face fell. “Oh.I was so enamored with my dream that you were a fugitive bank robber or international assassin, working incognito.”
She laughed again. “Just a cocktail waitress with a problem ex.”
That wasn’t even too far from the truth.
“Well, then,” Bastien winked one of his pale, blue-gray eyes at her, “as I said, if you ever need protection, I am at your service.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Bastien. I’ll bringyour drinks. Word to the wise, though: order easy drinks. This bartender gets a little random.”
“Are martinis safe?”
“I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Excellent.” He tossed another black chip in her glass.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
He winked at her. “I haven’t seen you for a week. I have to make sure you’re taken care of.”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” She felt like she might be leadinghim on, and he was getting a little stalkery, following her between casinos like that.
“It’s my pleasure,lieblingGretchen. That enormous blond giant who ran off with you at the Monaco, is he here?”
Flicka cranked her mouth into a smile even though mice were crawling up her spine.
Bastien had been watching her entirely too closely.
That question was crossing the line into creepy.
And yet,it wasn’t an altogether creepy-stalker question, considering that she had been standing right next to Bastien when she had thrown her tray laden with glassware to the floor and sprinted away, yelling Dieter’s name, and then Dieter had jumped up and run with her. The drinks had probably splashed him with alcohol, beer, and soda pop.
She said, “That guy was just house security at the Monaco Casino.I don’t know anything about him.”
Bastien glanced to where Dieter was sitting at the Texas Hold’Em table, his strong back toward them, and then turned to his cards lying on the green felt in front of him. “If you say so. I shouldn’t keep you, and these poker chips aren’t going to lose themselves.”
