"Go talk to one of them," she encourages as she snaps the stem in half before tossing it into the trash. "If you don't, I will. Even if they're really scary, they seem to care about the casino enough to care about those who work here, too."
She's right. I know she is, but I'd never thought something like this could happen to me. I've heard stories, too, about people seeking them out for help, but I never imagined myself filling that kind of role. The one who needed some kind of figure watching over them to feel safe.
"Okay..." Sighing softly, I make an attempt to shake my nerves, but fail. "I'll talk to one of them."
Giving my shoulder a squeeze, she steals my empty tray so I don't have an excuse to prolong this any more than I already have.
It's almost laughable, really. I have the excuse to approach Smoke, but I barely have the confidence to do so.
I don't want the man of my dreams to see me as some fearful, weak person.
"Thank you. Can you keep this to yourself? I don't want whoever it is to know I'm going to them. As much as I want it to stop now, I don't want them targeting someone else instead." Glancing back at the note, I shred it into pieces without a second thought. With the broken flower, all the evidence goes in the bin.
She nods, and I thank her. After I encourage her to get out there and make some money, I'm soon left alone to make sure nothing in my locker is missing. My shirt and jeans look untouched, and my sneakers are still resting at the bottom. Even my socks are still knotted together in the same way I always leave them.
Left alone, I allow a little frustration to slip through. Not wanting to ruin my eyeliner, I swipe at my eyes carefully to prevent them from watering too much and let out a little sniffle before composing myself.
Sometimes, in the middle of this act of mine, a few cracks show up. All I need is a second to patch them up, and I'm back to the way I need to be. Back to smiling. Back to treating every person here as if they hold a special place in my heart.
Suddenly, those cracks seem impossibly wide. Too large to conceal. Yet, I try anyway.
Once my locker is shut, I'm turning on my heel and moving in the direction of that Texas Hold 'Em game.
Nodding at the dealer, Will, I hover close enough to Smoke that his concentration is broken. I barely even have to brush his shoulder with my fingers before he's jerking his head to look in my direction. The grumpy expression that usually makes my stomach tighten and toes curl suddenly turns into a blank stare before he abruptly pales.
I don't think any of the cocktail waitresses make him look panicked like I do. Do I feel special? Sure. At the same time, it makes me always want to grab his arm and cling to him so he can't bolt.
My goal was to wait for them to finish their game so I could pull him away without risking any loss to him. I try to tell him that, too, in a hushed voice so I don't bother anyone else. My smile tries to form, but it's awkward. My breathing matches.
He notices, his panic shifting as his eyes narrow.
I don't get time to ask for a conversation. He's already tearing his eyes away.
"I'm folding." Flattening his cards against the table without hesitation, he ignores the sudden huff from the other side of the table, from his brother Ace, and stands, letting his chair scrape. He's less caring toward the others.
Once he's up, I'm momentarily distracted by how big he is. Despite being younger, he's taller than most men I know. There's still a gruffness about him that continues to shock me that he's only in his mid-twenties.
Maybe that's why he's not attracted to me. Most who look my way are in their forties or older.
Now's not really the time to question myself about Smoke's taste, is it?
I don't realize he's taking me by the elbow until my feet start moving. Smoke never touches me, but now that his fingers are on my skin, I'm forgetting why I'm upset in the first place.
Just being in the vicinity of this man makes me feel safe. He makes me warm, too, from the flush that's already spreading across my skin.
"What happened? Who's giving you an issue?" Without an answer, he's already scanning the casino like something big and bad is going to jump up and take claim to being my nightmare for the last couple of weeks. Once he sees nothing's out of the ordinary, he's returning those ocean-blue eyes in my direction.
My heart is going rogue in my chest, pounding away as he looks at me in a way he's never done before.
He does a quick scan down the lace of my corset before lingering on the netting around my legs. His throat bobs with a heavy swallow before he blinks, his gaze shooting back up when seeing I'm physically okay. No wounds or signs of distress.
Once more, I'm lost in my favorite shade of blue. I don't think I've ever looked into his eyes for this long. Do they always look this stormy? I'm so used to seeing hunger in others that the absence of it in his eyes always throws me off my game.
You can do this, Bunny. Just ask him for help.
"So... this is probably going to sound silly..." Dragging my words out, I find myself squirming under the weight of his stare.
Telling Smoke that I've got a stalker has me acting out of character, acting more like my true self. I don't know if it's the way his brows slam down at the mention of going to Andy once before, or the way he stiffens up when I start mentioning the"gifts", but I'm fidgeting and playing with my fingers, looking at my hands more than at him as I get everything off my chest.
