“Incoming, Sierra.”
Nell’s voice snaps me back to reality, and I glance toward the entrance just in time to see my cousin Audrey weaving through the crowd. She’s got some preppy-looking college guy in tow, his hand in hers like a dog on a leash.
I sigh.
I love Audrey. I do. But she’s never met a free drink she didn’t want, and I know exactly why she’s here.
“Hey, Si!” She slides onto a barstool, pulling her latest victim down beside her. “This is Devon. My new man.”
I smile at Devon. Don’t bother memorizing the name. He’ll be gone by next week.
“Nice to meet you.”
“We were wondering... ” Audrey gives me her best puppy-dog eyes. “Could you hook us up?”
There it is.
“One free drink each,” I say. “That’s the best I can do.”
She pouts, but she orders anyway. I turn to grab the vodka, and my eyes drift automatically to the end of the bar.
Empty.
The stranger is gone. A pile of cash sits where his glass used to be, way more than he owed for a single Coke.
Relief washes through me, so strong my knees almost buckle.
He’s gone. Whatever that was, it’s over. I can go back to pretending everything is normal, that I’m just a bartender with a dream of opening a flower shop someday, that my life isn’t slowly imploding around me.
I make Audrey’s drinks. I smile. I joke. I turn on the sparkle for the tips.
But I can’t shake the feeling of those ice-blue eyes on my skin.
Or the memory of his voice, rough and certain, telling me he could teach the asshole a lesson.
I’m no hero.
Good. I’ve had enough of men who think they’re saving me.
What I need is to save myself.
I just haven’t figured out how yet.
3
MATTEO
The desert wantsto kill you from the moment the sun clears the horizon.
I’ve spent my entire thirty years in Vegas, and I still haven’t made peace with it. The dry heat. The way it bakes into your bones before noon. Some people adapt. I just learned to fight back.
My pool is the only place in this city where I don’t feel like I’m slowly cooking alive.
I cut through the water with clean, even strokes. Fifty laps. That’s the magic number. Enough to burn the edge off whatever’s clawing at my insides.
Enough to shut my brain down for a little while.
A man in my line of work needs that. Silence. Stillness.
