Jake was a sweet guy. He was smart, funny, and kind. But he had also just gotten out of a four-year relationship he thought was going to go all the way. Even if I had a shred of interest in exploring something romantic with him, I had no intention of being a rebound.
“I have a prior commitment,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster, letting him down gently as I reached for my purse and slipped it onto my shoulder.
His shoulders slumped, clearly crestfallen. “Oh. Okay. No worries. Maybe another time.”
“Yeah,” I said as the six of us began to say our goodbyes. “I love getting together with everyone.”
“Everyone.” He forced a smile. “Right.” When we were the only two left who hadn’t hugged, I bit the bullet so the rest of the group didn’t think there was bad blood. It was so comfortable hugging Jake, like hugging my brother.
I just didn’t want to sleep with him.
But that certainly hadn’t been the thought that crossed my mind when the hot bouncer from the casino called me a good girl.
My spine zipped with excitement at the thought of him. Sure, the big scary dude had told me not to come back, but it was ina patronizing “you don’t belong around these parts, little lady” kind of way.
Right?
I just needed a few more nights of big wins, and then I’d be golden.
Honestly, if I wasn’t tethered between fearformy brother and angeratmy brother, this would’ve been fun.
Sunday, May 18 | 6:42 p.m.
I tookone last look in the gas station bathroom mirror and studied my reflection. I had swapped my standard work wear of slacks and a blouse for something a little more daring. And by daring, I meant a pair of tight jeans and a low-cut top in black silk that I had worn one time for my college roommate’s bachelorette party. The heels on my feet were the worst life choice I had ever made—even more than trying to clear my brother’s debt to the mob by counting cards in Atlantic City.
I hobbled out of the bathroom like a newborn giraffe who’d landed on its head and was slowly getting back up to its feet, all while hoping I could find a parking spot close enough to the Four Horsemen that I wouldn’t have to walk in these deathtraps for long.
The old guy who had played with me the first night must have been a regular at the casino, because everyone waited on him hand and foot. He was ridiculously nice and made my first few games a little less scary.
Last night, I got my feet wet. Tonight, I was ready to dive in and win big.
The drive from the gas station to the Shore was, thankfully, short. I took it as a good sign when a parking spot only a block away opened up. I eased out from the driver’s side, wobbled a little, and shouldered the bag that held the thousand dollars I was going to play with.
I walked as quickly as I could, dodging summertime beachgoers, annoyed locals, and even more bachelorettes.
Why were there so many bachelorettes here? There were so many better destinations than New Jersey.
“Either you’re disobedient, stubborn, or stupid.” The gruff voice startled me out of my thoughts.
I looked up—and up and up—and spotted the bouncer from last night glowering down at me with thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
“And I don’t think you’re stupid,” he clipped. “Just a pain in my ass.”
“Well,” I said, putting on a smile. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your way, then.”
“Good.” He stepped forward, backing me away from the casino. “Now turn around, walk to your car, drive away, and don’t come back.”
Ohwow.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at him the first time. He was always standing in the shadows. Fragments of him were alluring, but the whole picture was breathtaking.
And panty-melting.
He had to be over six feet tall and was built like a big-boned lumberjack. He had a thick beard the color of walnuts and long hair tied on top of his head in a neat bun. Strands had fallen out, framing thick eyebrows and the most perfect nose I had ever seen.
Tattoos covered every inch of his hands and arms. I could see the edges of more ink on his chest, where his black Four Horsemen polo was unbuttoned.
He wasnotmy type. But on second glance, I was fairly certain I had been wrong about my type until now. There was something about his scowl that made me feel like a schoolgirl rather thanDr. Amelia Hawthorne.
