Page 70 of Bastard Bartender

“We still have to find your S, baby.” She takes another drink and crosses her legs haphazardly. As she looks at me over her glass, I must be making a face because her brows curve. “You are going to finish the alphabet experiment, right?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I’m with Nic now.”

“Yeah, but for how long?”

“I don’t know, but I have to give it a chance.” I sit up straighter and place my glass on the table. My hands are on my knees, rubbing my legs. “Why are you so sure it won’t last?”

“It’s not that I don’t think he likes you. You’re the complete package—gorgeous, successful, smart. It’s him that’s the problem.”

“What’s wrong with Nic? He’s good-looking, he has a steady job, and he’s incredibly fun.”

“That’s the problem. He’s too much fun.”

“God, you sound like Tom at work.”

“What did he say to you?” she asks.

I hesitate to answer and then wave it off. “Not important.”

She must see I’m growing uncomfortable with the conversation, so she places a hand on my leg. “Listen, I’m not one to judge someone else. I’m just reiterating all the things you said when we started this. When we met, you were still broken up over that Brandon guy from San Diego. The one who maxed out your credit card—”

“No. That was Seth. Brandon cheated. With my friend.” It really shouldn’t matter why he sucked as a boyfriend, but I feel the need to correct her.

“Nic’s a bad boy, Evette. He dates casually, isn’t looking for anything long-term, and is very open about that. He’s actually the opposite of all the things you want. Have all the fun you can stand. Get wild and crazy but be careful. You even said it—you don’t have the best luck with guys like him.”

“Maybe he’s different,” I say hopefully.

She parts her lips, looking like she wants to say something, but closes it and nods. “Maybe he is.”

“What are you ladies talking about?” Nic sits next to me. His legs are spread wide as he leans back on the couch and swings an arm on the back of the sofa behind me.

“Gave up on cards already?” I tease.

“I’m not really a gambling man. Rather spend my money on experiences than lose it at a table.”

“Smart,” I say. “I have no idea how people get so carried away.”

He lifts a shoulder. “You know how it is. The dealer moves so quick, and the cards are being dealt before you realize you have money on the table. The cocktail waitresses come with those free drinks, the lighting is perfectly bright to keep you up, and the constant music and chatter around is addictive, especially when you hear people cheering from winning.”

“You paint a vivid picture, but I have no idea what it’s like,” I say, looking over my shoulder at him.

He lowers his forehead to me in confusion. “Come again?”

“Evette’s never been taken on a night out on The Strip,” Marie explains.

“Wait.” He sits up fully. His arms are up in the air as he widens his eyes in complete surprise. “All those dates, and you’ve never had a proper night out to a casino?”

“Locals usually avoid The Strip,” I answer.

“It’s a tourist trap, but it’s fun as hell. Have you at least been to one show since you’ve been here?”

“I see enough shows at the stadium. There’s no reason to pay for one somewhere else.”

“What about a club? Or dinner?”

Marie interjects, “We’ve gone to dinner a few times, but she’s never been romanced on The Strip.”

“Ahh. So, my girl needs to be romanced.”