“Is this always a thing with you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light and flirtatious.
“What?”
“Making terrible decisions?”
“Terrible decisions.” She blinks twice like she has no clue where I’m going with this.
“Bidding on me for starters.”
Her forehead creases. “What are you talking about? You’re the best decision I’ve made all night. And I hope, the beginning of a new lucky streak for me.”
Lucky streak?
Never been called that before.
She plops down at a slot machine directly in front of us, pulling out her phone to take a selfie.
I groan.SoCal Hotshotswith Ambrose’s dumb face plastered all over it.
That’swhy she bid on me. Just like Dallas said. I’d almost convinced myself otherwise.
“Come and get in one with me,” she says.
I shake my head.
That gets her attention. “You know I bought you tonight. Paid a whole five hundred for you. So stuff like this—the little asks—you can’t say no to.”
“Feels like a big ask to me,” I grumble, leaning in and frowning for our picture.
“You jealous, Phoenix? Afraid Avery Ross was the guy I was really after?”
“Jealous of Hollywood?” I huff. “No way.”
But she doesn’t look convinced, smiling as wide as the Cheshire Cat. “Enough of him,” she says with a wave of her hand. “It’s time for you to help me win some money.”
I groan.
A scantily dressed cocktail waitress comes around wearing glittering eyeshadow and lipstick. “Drinks?” she asks, eyeing us both.
I shake my head firmly.
Scarlett makes her repeat our order twice.
This is spiraling out of control… like the garish purple and orange carpet under our feet. Stare at it long enough, and you’ll swear it’s moving.
“You know why casinos don’t have windows or visible clocks?” I ask.
But she’s too busy trying to stuff a crumpled dollar bill into the machine to listen, biting her ample bottom lip and scrunching her face in concentration. The device keeps spitting it back.
“Shouldn’t be so hard,” I say without thinking, brushing against her from behind. My hand comes up gripping hers.
Her breath hitches in her throat, and my chest does a kathunk I haven’t felt in a long time.
A really long time.
“Like this,” I say gruffly, leaning in, guiding the dollar bill, drawing too close to the crook of her neck where my warm breath settles.
She side-eyes me, head tipping up slightly. The world narrows to her and me—a damn miracle with lights flashing, slots singing, and people hustling through like they had somewhere to be five hours ago.
