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It’s tangy, the whiskey not too strong. Perfect. Settling.
Kylie orders a margarita and once we pay, we turn and walk through the casino. “So, how is life?” I ask.
“Life is… good.” She smiles, and then looks over at me. Her face changes, her cheeks now rosy red.
“Uh-oh. You hesitated.” I study her face. “What’s wrong?”
Sighing, she straightens her back and looks me right in the eyes. “Jenny… I have to tell you something and you have to promise not to get mad.”
“Oh, come on, Ky. Every time you say something like that, it’s hard for me not to get mad.”
She puts on an unsteady smile. “Promise,” she begs.
I sigh. “Okay. Fine. I’ll try not to. Spill it.”
She lowers her drink and purses her glossed lips. “Well, I really wanted to come here for you, and you know that, but I’ve been keeping up with Oscar on Facebook and Twitter and—”
“Wait—what? Oscar?! Oscar Davenport?” Oh, God. I groan. “Kylie, you have to be kidding.”
“No. Now wait a minute. Just hear me out!” She throws a hand in the air before I can say anything else. “So he sent me a message a while back on Facebook and we started talking about how we missed each other and then Vegas came up. He said he would be here this weekend for some MMA championship fight for a friend. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you wanted me to come on the same weekend he was coming. It’s fate, I swear! It has to be! I get to see him again after all these years.”
“So you’re going to ditch me for Oscar, is that what you’re saying?” I squint my eyes at her.
She laughs. “No. I just want to let you know that he and I are… talking again.”
“Talking? Like, talking-talking?”
She bobs her head eagerly. “I’m going to meet him after the fight.”
“Wow.” My eyes expand. I exhale slowly. I don’t want to wonder, but the mere mention of Oscar only leads me to think about the other Davenport. And no, I’m not talking about Otto.
“Do you think that Dra—wait. No. Never mind.” I wave a dismissive hand but Kylie grabs it to stop me.
“No.” Her face is much more serious now. “What were you going to ask?”
My lips press together. His name is on the tip of my tongue. It’s searing hot, weighing it down. I have to get it out.
I prepare myself to ask, but a hand touches my shoulder. I spin around to face Shane. A few wisps of his blond hair are out of place; his face is flustered, most likely due to waiting in that long line just to check in.
“I was looking all over for you,” he grumbles. His eyes move over to Kylie, and she forces a smile before taking a sip of her margarita.
“Oh, Kylie. Hey.” Shane’s lips stretch to smile.
“Shane,” she mutters.
“This is strange. What are you doing here?” His voice is bright, but Kylie and I know it’s full of shit.
“I’m on vacation. Meeting someone.”
“Would that someone, pray tell, be Jenny?” He folds his arms over his chest.
She laughs. “Actually, no its not. I just so happen to be here during the same weekend as her. Do you have a problem with that, Shane?”
“Not at all. Free country.”
“Sure is.” She thins her eyes up at him.
He continues smiling, but puts his line of sight on me. “Jenny, ready to head up to the room? I need to take a shower, get out of these sweaty clothes.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
He hands me one of the room keys and then turns, but it’s as he turns that I see something that takes me completely off guard.
It’s right over Shane’s shoulder. He is… There’s a sign—an advertisement poster that you can’t miss, even if you happen to be stupid, sloppy drunk.
He stands out so much. How could I ever forget that face?
His hair is as dark as the feathers of a raven, long and layered at the top, faded lightly around the edges and in the back. His face is still clean, those piercing green eyes looking right at me.
He’s bigger—much bigger. Massive and yet slender in all the right places. His nostrils are flared and his body is upright, shoulders broad, as if no man in the world can defeat him.
A mouthpiece hangs partially out of his mouth, and his jaw is flexed. He has so many more tattoos now.
He looks like a completely different person, but I would recognize that face anywhere.
That ink can’t hide him.
He’s even sexier than before—a beast of a man.
“Oh my God,” I breathe as I rush around Shane.
Shane stops in the middle of the walkway, agitated. “Jenny, come on,” he calls.
“I—I’m coming. Just give me a sec.”
“Whatever. I don’t have time for this. Just meet me in the room.”
I ignore him for the most part. I can’t stop gawking at the poster. I look down at the date. May 20th? Wait. That’s tonight.
