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Game over.
“Ash,” I say, “let’s go.”
“But—”
“Now.” Through gritted teeth this time.
“Hey, man,” Mike says. “The lady’s doin’ great. She shouldn’t stop now.”
I lift one eyebrow. “The lady is leaving. Now.”
Ashley moves from her stool once more. “I can’t leave now,” she whispers. “The guys have been buying me drinks. I don’t want to be rude.”
“Buying you drinks, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“While you’re playing?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t help myself. I burst into laughter. “Sweet Ashley, drinks are free while you’re playing. The house wants you drinking.”
“But they ordered…”
“You’d know this if you’d ever been to Las Vegas before.”
“So they haven’t bought me any drinks…”
“Did you see either of them start a tab?”
“Well, no, but…”
I laugh again.
“Stop it, Dale.” She gives me a swat on my upper arm. “Just stop it. I’m not that innocent.”
I shake my head. “Innocent? Hardly. Not after what I learned last night.”
Her cheeks redden.
I’ve pissed her off.
Good. She pissed me off. She gets to Vegas, and the first thing she does is hook up with two Texans who convince her they know blackjack with a betting-odds card anyone can find and trick her into thinking they’re buying her drinks.
“I guess I’ve fucked up your plans for a threesome,” I continue. “I’m out of here.”
“Really, Dale?” she says. “You really want to go there? I was thrilled to see you. I jumped out of my chair. You really want to accuse me of anything untoward with those two? They’re not even my type!”
“They have dicks, don’t they?”
She shakes her head. “Fuck you.” She turns and flounces back to the table.
I want to follow her. Instead, I watch her. I watch her sit back down between the Texans—one dark and one light. I imagine her as the prime beef between sourdough and pumpernickel.
And I’m mad.
I’m mad as hell.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ashley
Who does Dale Steel think he is?
I smile charmingly at Mike and then at Carlos and nod to the dealer. “I’m in.”
Except my heart is no longer in the game. I was having fun. So what if this card I’m holding can be bought anywhere? So what if Mike and Carlos weren’t actually buying me drinks? It’s not like I was planning to go to bed with them. It never entered my mind.
Fuck Dale Steel.
After the next hand, I grab my chips. “I’m out, guys,” I tell Carlos and Mike. “Thanks for a fun evening.”
“You’re not leaving yet, are you?” Carlos says in his voice dripping with caramel color.
“Yeah. I have to go see him.”
“He left you here with us,” Mike cajoles in his joyful bright-red voice. “Let us show you a good time.”
Flirty Ashley kicks in then, and I smile. “What kind of a good time?”
“How about drinks in our suite?” Carlos offers.
Yeah, that’s the good time they have in mind. Not that I’m slightly surprised.
“Sorry, guys. I’m taken.”
“By a guy who left you here with us,” Mike says again.
I breathe in. Funny. If not for Dale, I’d totally be into these two, despite the fact that they tried to convince me they were blackjack experts who were buying me drinks. Sex was always about what I could gain, and if the guys got what they wanted as well, where was the harm?
No more, though.
I’m now a one-man woman.
Even if that man is being a jackass.
He came for me, though. He came here after he nearly died in a fire and lost half his Syrah crop. He made the effort.
“It was great meeting you guys,” I say. “Look around. This place is flooded with eligible women. You won’t be alone tonight. I guarantee it.”
I flounce away, smiling to myself.
They’re both incredibly good-looking. They won’t be alone for long. I never labored under any delusion that I was special to them. I was just having fun. I had no intention of going to bed with Carlos or Mike or both. But I did flirt with them audaciously. Maybe it’s time I stop doing that.
I love Dale. I only want Dale.
Even when he’s an ass.
I walk through the casino, but it’s nearly impossible to find anyone in this haystack of people. It’s a miracle he found me at the blackjack table.
To the lobby, then. I wait in a short line to ask whether Dale has registered. He hasn’t.
I sigh. Up to my room, then. It’s nearly two a.m., and my mom and Dennis arrive tomorrow morning. I need to get some sleep.
After riding up the elevator, I walk to my room and tap the keycard to the door.
I open it, and—
“It’s about time.”
The cloak of red wine fills the room.
Dale’s voice.
Dale is here.
But I’m not letting him off the hook that easily.
“How did you get in here?” I demand.
“Steel privilege,” he snarks.
Of course. He paid someone off. Easy enough when you’re richer than God.
“This is my room,” I say. “You have no right—”
His lips are on mine, then. He’s kissing me, and this time it’s his trademark kiss of rage. He’s angry. Mad as a hornet because I dared to spend the evening with two men who taught me some stuff about blackjack.
