He laughs. “Purple glitter not your style?”
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
He lifts another mask slightly, holding it where only I can see. “Wear it,” he says. “It’s no fake mustache, but as long as I put on a jacket to cover my tattoos, our identities should be protected.” He takes the sleeve of my suit jacket, pulling lightly. “Care to lend this out?”
I shake my head. “Unbelievable. You think I’m going to—”
“Gabriel,” a stylish man in a dark suit says as he walks up to us. “There you are. Would you like to join for the next hand?”
Gabriel nods between the man and me. “Fox, this is Spencer. Spencer, Fox runs my new label.”
He offers me his hand. “Nice to meet you. Care to join?”
“I think we were just about to head out,” Gabriel says. “Spencer has the tip on some good blackjack.”
I blink, surprised. My drunk brain struggles to keep up, but when Fox looks to me, I find myself agreeing.
“Blackjack,” I say, clutching the mask behind my back with one hand. “Exactly.”
Fox shrugs. “Choose your poison.”
When he’s gone, I turn back to Gabriel. “What the hell was that?”
“A cover story,” he says. “So that we can run around Vegas in these masks, and I can get you to relax a little. Isn’t that the plan?”
I frown. There are approximately one billion reasons I shouldn’t do this.
But the fact is, loathe as I am to admit it, I’m actually enjoying myself at the moment.
My body is warm all over, and not just from the booze. Gabriel is charming in his annoying way, and even when we’re arguing with each other, somehow the banter feels flattering.
I’m not used to having someone flirt with me.
Even worse, he’s looking at me like I’m going to say no again. Like he’s assessing me, and he doesn’t think I have it in me.
I tighten my hands into fists. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“So you’ve said.” He smiles, apparently accepting my non-answer as a yes. “Shot for the road?”
* * *
GABRIEL
Spencer walks beside me, a little wobble to his step as we move through the casino. “I hope you realize how much I don’t do this sort of thing.”
“Oh, I realize,” I tell him beneath my mask. “That’s what makes it so fun.”
Tonight is not about seducing Spencer. Although it would be true to form for me to leave the poker game chasing a new hookup, I’m not going there tonight. Not with him, at least.
For one, he’s closeted. That’s wildly unsexy to me.
Two, he’s drunk. Not so wasted he’s slurring his words and talking nonsense, but obviously buzzed, and I’m not going to intrude on impaired decision-making.
Four, I’m drunk. Quite drunk, in fact.
And lastly, Spencer is sexy. He’s uptight, but he’s got a nice smile.
I like it when he smiles.
