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Chapter Five
Avery made quick work of dressing and getting them out the door, all the while making certain that she never looked Holden directly in the eye. Somehow, she felt like if she met his gaze, he’d understand what she’d been trying to do. Or worse, why she’d tried to do it. And she couldn’t face that.
So, she did what she did best. Avoidance.
Before long, they were on the main drag, walking past dingy diners that only came to life in the summer when the tide was high. She swallowed hard, considering her next move, then decided to try for casualness. To not let it show just how much their borderline “lovemaking” had shaken her.
“So, how have you been? I mean, really?” She looked him up and down.
“Oh, I’m good. Another tour over.” He shrugged.
“How many does that make now?” she asked, though she knew the answer already. Four tours of duty. More than either of his brothers, and he wasn’t even thirty yet. With each new tour, she’d had to do something to make her forget. After the first, she’d moved to California. After the second, she’d gotten a tattoo. Once he’d left for the third, she’d decided to try skydiving.
And when she heard he was leaving on his fourth…
All she could remember doing was crying.
“Four,” he said, and she nodded al
ong, careful to keep her face unreadable.
“Time to give up, you think?”
He just smiled. “So, where is this mysterious place you’re taking me?”
“The best restaurant in the city.”
“And best, by your standards means…juiciest hot dogs?” His eyebrows rose.
“Hottest wings.” She grinned back, trying to focus. Trying not to wonder why he so conspicuously didn’t answer her question. “Anyway, after that, it’s a surprise. But I can tell you it’s all right here.”
She halted dead in her tracks, and he nearly barreled into her. Watching from the corner of her eye, she studied the scene as he must have seen it. They were standing in front of a dilapidated old building with a mile-wide marquee. It was the sort of place Jay Gatsby might have frequented. Stranger still, the place had no markings or signs. If she hadn’t stopped, he might never have noticed it at all.
Just wait until he sees inside.
She led him up the concrete steps then opened the wide golden door for him, but he only stood there, looking at her.
“What?” she asked. “Get a move on.”
He frowned, then set his palm on her waist and led her through the door as he held it open for her.
“So old-fashioned,” she grumbled, trying to ignore the way her heart backfired in her chest.
“Where the hell are we?” he asked. The room was like something out of a science fiction movie, stretching on for what looked like eons, with loud, eighties-style carpeting covering every square inch of the floor. Rows upon rows of slot machines crowded the area, and women circled them like bees, all dressed like Betty Paige and carrying drinks on wide, gilded trays.
Her grin broadened. “If you only come to San Diego once, you should at least see the seedy underbelly of the city. Welcome to the underground casino, my friend.”
“How did you find this place?”
“I lead a strange and interesting life.” She tossed him a saucy grin. “There’s a bar tucked in the corner on the opposite side of the casino. That is where we’re going to get those wings.” She ushered him through the thicket of whirring machinery, a smile shining on her face as she glanced back at him.
When they got to the bar, there were no seats left except for some rickety booths near the bathroom. Still, Holden knew Avery wasn’t the sort to complain about ripped cushions or dirty tables. In fact, she was usually the reason things had ended up that way to begin with. They picked one and slid in.
The waitress strolled over, clad in yoga shorts and a half shirt, her peroxide-bleached hair crimped and styled with bright purple highlights. She had more piercings on her lip than Avery had on her whole body. “Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“Could we please have a pitcher of beer and a plate of twenty hot wings?” Holden asked.
“Fifty,” Avery amended.
