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His mouth twitches. “Well, maybe we should change that.”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, looking at him. And damn, is he gorgeous. He has dark brown hair, and hazel eyes that when I look closely have specks of green in them. He wears his ballcap low, his hair curling under it. He looks like he could probably use a haircut, but I like it on him. He looks so good.

“We can hang out tonight.”

“We just met,” I tease.

“But we’re not strangers anymore. I’m Beau, and you’re Jolene.” He smirks as he signals the bartender for two more drinks for us.

“I don’t actually think that counts as meeting when we gave each other fake names,” I say with a laugh.

“Well, we can give ourselves fake jobs and life stories if that makes you feel better,” he says, tipping his head to the bartender when he slides over two more drinks.

“Thank you,” I call to the bartender. He nods and slides down to help someone else, leaving me to hot Beau.

“What’s my job?” I ask him, waiting to hear what he’ll pick for me. I like this game.

He watches me for a moment and sizes me up.

“Well, Jolene. You’re an event planner from L.A. You know the inside of hotel conference rooms better than you know the actual tourist places.”

I scoff. “That’s incredibly depressing.”

And not far from my actual life, which actually is depressing. I do travel a lot for work to some amazing locations and rarely get to have fun. I just do the work part. And if I’m being honest, that’s my fault.

He laughs. “It’s totally lame. That’s why we need to fix this tonight.”

I playfully roll my eyes. “Rude.”

“Hey, now, it’s your turn to paint my life. Let’s have it.”

I gesture toward him. “You look like a guy who knows exactly how to have fun in Vegas.”

He looks at me, and damn, his lips look good. “What does that mean?”

I stare. “You look like a party guy from somewhere out west who knows how to pick up the ladies at a western bar and dance the night away.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t know me, Jolene.”

“Okay, maybe you’re a cowboy. You are here for the rodeo, and you turned away all the buckle bunnies to sit at the bar and be sad and lonely for reasons yet to be discovered.”

The shocked look in his eyes passes quickly, and he says, “Not even close, Jolene. Nice try.”

“I bet I’m close.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“Aha,” I say as I sip my drink.

“But I, too, usually see airports. I’m not really a party guy.”

For a second, we just stare at each other. Then we both start laughing at the irony. Because somehow, we’ve managed to find the only two people in Las Vegas who don’t actually know Las Vegas.

He glances toward the casino entrance and the bright lights outside, then back at me. A challenge sparks in his eyes. “What if we fix that?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Fix what?”

“The fact that we’re apparently terrible at vacations.”