Her pretty oval face and slender five-foot-ten figure in the skimpy cocktail uniform make her the focus of attention, and she hates it.Even now, she’s avoiding eye contact and speed-walking to my table.
We’ll have to work on that.Guys tend to think you’re not interested if you don’t look at them.
She plops her round serving tray on the armrest of my blackjack table, eyes flittering to the side as if she’s nervous.
The casino floor is obnoxiously loud, with whistles chiming and bells blaring.I’ve gotten used to elevating my voice just enough to hold a conversation without announcing myself to the room.“What’s up?”
“Don’t look now,” she says through stiff lips, “but the bartender at the East Bar invited us to drinks with him and his friends tonight.”
I stretch my neck like a flamingo and search him out.
“I said, don’t look!”
“Why not?”
“Because he might think I like him.”
“Do you?”I glance at the guy again and waggle my brows.Medium brown hair, a dimple that flashes whenever he smiles at his female customers—I couldn’t have picked a better prospect.“He’s cute.”
She fumbles with her cash caddy.“I don’t know Mason that well, but he seems nice.”Her mouth twists and then softens.“It’d be good to make new friends.”
I nod soberly.“I support this endeavor.”
Project Gen Hookup moving ahead of schedule!
A few hours later,Gen and I pass through the sliding doors of the casino next to Blue, and the air conditioning suctions me inside, my ears popping from the pressure.
“Wow,” Gen says, eyeing a nearby cocktail waitress.“It’s a good thing you had a contact at Blue and not here, or my ass cheeks would be on full display beneath Cherokee nylons.”
“You’re welcome,” I say.She’s been bitching all week about her uniform.
We walk to the center of the casino and Gen points out Bartender Mason in the lounge.He’s swapped the white and black casino uniform for a pair of jeans and a dark button-down.
Mason’s broad shoulders fill out the shirt to hot-guy perfection, and I nudge Gen in the ribs, signaling my approval.
She glares at me.If we weren’t close to her new friend, she’d tell me I’m behaving like a dork.Which is why I do it now, when I can get away with it.
Mason stands, a wide smile spreading across his face as he glances at me then takes a leisurely look at Gen in her short denim skirt, T-shirt, and sandals.
Neither of us anticipated going out after work when we dressed this morning, so we’re both on the casual side.
A couple of guys sit at Mason’s table, along with a girl.
“This is Adam and his girlfriend Breanna—” Mason gestures to a dark-haired pretty boy with pressed dress sleeves evenly rolled to his elbows.
Breanna smiles while Adam does a not-so-sly perusal of our bodies, his gaze lingering on my chest.I’d like to say it’s because I have a large rack, but really, it’s because I displayed my boobs nicely.
“And that’s Jaeger.”
Jaeger?Like Mick Jagger, except with a longa?That name sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize the guy.
Jaeger is a head taller than Adam, wearing a casual T-shirt and worn blue jeans, and his arms are as long as a basketball player’s.His light brown hair is cut close to his head, and though there’s something familiar about his face, I can’t place him.
He’s cute, though, with a strong jaw line and symmetrical features that are too classically handsome to lump him in with the meatheads; his brows don’t protrude enough.He’s more genetically big than steroid-inflated.
Jaeger gives Gen a cursory glance, then looks at me.His gaze falters and holds a second too long.He half nods in acknowledgement, and returns his attention to his friends.
He hesitated when he looked at me.A sign I’m right about us knowing each other?I can’t ask him about it, though, because Adam is talking to him now.
