Her smile turns wicked.
“Never have I ever played craps.”
I blink.
“Craps?”
“We’re in Vegas,” she says. “It’s practically a civic duty.”
I grin slowly.
“Then I guess we’re not done yet.”
She takes my hand again.
And I let her lead.
FIVE
MINDY
If there’s a more ridiculous sight in Las Vegas than a woman dressed for a spin class walking into a casino with a man in leather and a cowboy hat, I haven’t seen it yet.
Heads turn as soon as we step inside.
The lights flash. The air smells faintly of perfume, carpet cleaner, and optimism. Slot machines chime and trill like mechanical birds. Cocktail waitresses weave through the crowd with trays balanced effortlessly.
And everywhere we go, people stare.
I glance down at my fitted top and cycling shorts. Then at Jesse’s boots and leather jacket and hat.
“Oh my God,” I mutter. “We look like we planned this.”
He grins. “Two kinds of biker walk into a casino…”
“Stop.”
A man at a blackjack table actually claps as we pass. “Love the commitment!” he calls.
Jesse lifts his hand in acknowledgment like we’re minor celebrities.
“You don’t seem embarrassed,” I say.
“Why would I be?” he replies easily. “I’m with the best-looking woman in the room.”
My heart stutters.
“That was smooth.”
“I own a bar,” he says. “It’s a survival skill.”
We stop at a craps table, and suddenly I realize I have no idea what’s happening.
Dice. Chips. People shouting. Hands in the air.
“This,” Jesse says, stepping in beside me, “is where the fun happens.”
“I don’t know the rules.”
