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“Where the fuck is she?”
“She’s in Las Vegas.”
I pop up. “You let her go to Vegas alone?” I pace to the wall and back. “Upset and alone.” I point to his sternum. “Austin is there. If he harms one hair on her head, I will end you, old man. Hear that!”
I make it as far as the door before Cap and the guys catch up with me. “She’s not alone.”
Turning, I wait for Cap to continue.
“Rowdy is with her.”
“The kid?”
“He’s the same age as Frankie. He’s big. He’ll keep her safe.”
“While trying to get in her pants?” I scoff. “I doubt he’s got any blood flow to his brain, his dick is so hard for her.”
“It’s not like that. They’re friends,” he tries to reassure me.
“Shesaid they’re friends. Didhesay it too?”
He pales.
“I didn’t think so.” I flip them off as I head out the door.
Guess I’m heading to sin city.
“What are we doing, Frankie?” Rowdy shields his eyes from the sun as his head rolls toward me from his adjacent lounger. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m enjoying the sun and the view.” His gaze follows a scantily clad chick as she saunters past us in a swimsuit that could only be described as dental floss with triangular scraps covering her nipples and coochie. “I’m trying to figure out where your head is. What’s your plan?”
I close my eyes and tip my chin toward the sun. “My plan is to eat, drink, relax, and forget about Gabriel.” I haven’t thought much past that.
Turns out Darkboy is rich. He comes from Texas Oil and has money up the wazoo. That’s how I’ve found myself staying at this swanky place and currently soaking up the sun at the pool outside our private cabana. Yeah, I knew Rowdy was a keeper—and I don’t mean for his money. He’s kind and generous, yes, but he’s also thoughtful and deep in a way I can relate to. He’s quickly becoming my new bestie.
What is it with me and men? I’ve only ever dated Austin, except for my short stint with Gabriel, which I’m pretty sure wasn’t called dating. It more resembled a territorial fuck buddy who stole my heart but had no clue what to do with it, nor had any desire to find out.
Besides those two and Lili, I’ve only ever had guys as friends. And I don’t mean friends with benefits. I mean the truly would-do-anything-for-you kind of friends. Maybe even more brothers than friends. They don’t necessarily treat me like one of the guys, but I’m definitely not in the girl-you-date bucket either. Granted I’ve been with Austin from the age of fourteen, and given that I’m twenty-three now, it’s not like I was fair game for dating.
Still, I don’t have many female friends. Lili has kinda adopted me, and her friends and sisters-in-law have welcomed me into their group. But if it wasn’t for moving to Lyndale, I’d still be strictly Y chromosome-abundant in my life.
Perhaps it’s my chosen line of work. Actually, I’m sure it’s that. Yet a nagging part of me is screaming daddy issues. You know, looking for approval from the men in my life since I never got any from my sperm donor of a father.
“You’re way too deep in thought over there to be doing any relaxing. Your foot is either tapping out Morse Code, or you’re working the Fibonacci Sequence in your head. Either way, we should go do something. An idle mind is a dangerous mind.” Rowdy sits up, slinging his legs over the side, facing me.
I immediately still my foot. I can’t disagree with the idle mind remark. My thoughts have turned wayward and entirely too cavernous for poolside enjoyment. “What did you have in mind?”
His face lights up like he’s been waiting for me to ask that very question. “I wouldn’t mind checking out that rollercoaster. You know, the one at the top of that casino.”
My stomach tumbles at the idea. I clutch my midsection and take a long drink of bottled water. “I don’t think so.”
I need to cut back on the booze, like altogether. Me and alcohol don’t seem to be destined for friendship. It seems to only want to fuck me over too. Who knew Gabriel and alcohol where in cahoots?
Standing, I stretch and ignore Rowdy checking me out. We’re friends. That’s all we’ll ever be despite his appreciation of my body, his golden tongue, and his charming wit. I don’t know if I need another guy friend, but I definitely don’t need any more MMA fighters for boyfriends or even fuck buddies. I’ve had my fill. Been there done that. Got the t-shirt and the smashed heart to prove it.
“How about a little blackjack, an overinflated buffet, and then maybe I watchyouride the make-you-puke-it-all-up rollercoaster you’re dying to try?” I don’t mind watching, but I’m all out of participation chits at the moment.
Maybe forever.
Life on the sidelines doesn’t seem so bad at the moment. I could use less drama in my life. Except the buffet. I’m all in. This girl’s gotta eat. You know, feed a broken heart, starve a cold… Or something like that.
