by Kira Archer
“Do you play?” she asked, laying her chips out on her chosen numbers with the same precision and meticulous care he’d once seen an antiquities dealer handle a 3,000-year-old vase.
“I’m more of a poker man myself,” he said, keeping his eyes on the men across the table.
Her eyebrow rose delicately in what he assumed was a question as to why he was vulturing her instead of playing at one of the few poker tables the casino had.
He shrugged and nodded to her growing stack of chips. “You’ve been here all of ten minutes and seem to be doing rather well. Maybe I’m just hoping to soak up a little luck before I try my hand.”
She laughed softly. “Don’t soak up too much. I don’t generally have much to spread around.”
His eyebrow raised at that. “You sure about that? You seem like you’re a pro at this.”
“Oh, I’ve been to my fair share of casinos. I’m generally broke before I make it halfway through the doors. It’s kind of fun winning for a change.”
Before he could say anything to that, someone passing behind her brushed up a little too close, and she jumped with a surprised squeak. As she was leaning over the table to place another bet at the time, her jump set off a truly spectacular chain of reactions that he could only stand there helpless to stop.
Her hand knocked into the woman next to her, which made the woman jerk and dump her drink all over the table and dealer. The dealer, who’d been holding the ball above the spinning wheel, dropped it instead of spinning it around the rim like he should have, and it landed square in Black 32. Half of the gamblers at the table were thrilled. The other half were not. They all made their feelings about the matter very clear. When the dealer tried to retrieve the ball, adamant that it did not count, the gamblers who’d placed “winning” bets on the number set up a ruckus the likes of which had probably never been seen in a Costa Rican casino.
The dealer started shouting at everyone in rapid Spanish, the woman who’d spilled her drink was in tears and fanning at her face like she’d just been accosted by a pack of wild dogs, and the other gamblers were all screaming at the dealer and one another. Until they all, almost in unison, turned toward Charley.
“Oh shit,” Chris muttered. He took her arm and started backing her away from the table. “I think we should probably make ourselves scarce,” he said, trying to keep his eye on both the group of murderously angry gamblers in front of them, the dealer who was still shouting and gesturing to them, and the trio of armed security guards who were quickly bearing down on them.
“But my chips…” Charley said, pulling against his grip.
“Leave them.”
“But…”
“I’ll pay you double what you’ve got there to not fight me on this.” Before she could argue again, Chris made an executive decision in the hopes of saving their lives, bent down, and tossed Charley over his shoulder.
She yelped and grabbed at his waist. “What are you doing?”
“Saving our asses, hopefully,” he said, throwing some cash at the roulette table both as a peace offering and as a distraction.
“But…”
Chris didn’t stick around to see if the cash toss worked or to hear her protests. He just turned on his heel and headed for the door. They passed his group of friends on the way out, every last one of whom was standing and staring with their mouths hanging open. He waved at them in what he hoped they’d understand was a “we gotta get out of here” gesture and turned his focus back to the thankfully close front door.
He didn’t stop until they were a block away. Even then, he paused only long enough to put Charley down. Then he grabbed her hand and they hauled ass a few more blocks, finally ducking into a smaller hotel that looked mostly reputable. He led Charley into the hotel’s bar and collapsed into a chair.
“Well, that was…different,” he said, waving the waiter over and pulling out his phone to quickly text his friends their location.
Charley shrugged then ran a hand through her hair and crossed her legs.
He raised an eyebrow at the shrug. “Not a new experience for you?”
“Mr. Lachlan, I have the worst luck in the world. Always have. Idiotic, unbelievable stuff happens to me all the time. I’m a magnet for misadventure.”
The waiter came over and she ordered a bottled water. Chris ordered four shots of tequila.
“You can’t leave it at that. Spill,” he said.
She shrugged again. “It would take more time than I care to spend on all the insanity that happens in my life. I will say, though, that this is the first time I’ve been chased out of a Costa Rican casino for dumping a drink on the dealer.”
“First for me, too,” Chris said with a laugh.
Her lips twitched. “Hang around with me long enough and it won’t be your last.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“It’s a fact.”
He threw his head back and laughed like he hadn’t done in a long time. “You’re not boring, Claybourne. I’ll give you that.”
She gave in and allowed a full smile to grace her beautiful face. “Glad you think so. It’s not the general feeling of most men I’ve been with, I assure you.” Her face blanched. “Not that we’re together. I just meant…”
He held up a hand to stave off her sputtering. “I know what you meant.”
Their drinks came, and he downed a shot while she sipped at her water. He pushed two of the shot glasses toward her. “You’re on vacation for the night. Live a little.”
“This isn’t a vacation.”
“You don’t have your little tablet with you.”
She tapped her forehead. “Taking mental notes to add later.”
He frowned slightly at that. “I want the record to show that the whole being chased from a casino by a mob thing was not my fault.”
That full, luscious mouth of hers pulled into a soft smile again. “Noted.”
She took a deep breath and then sighed and pulled a glass toward her.
His frown deepened. “You don’t have to drink if you’d rather not. I certainly don’t want this to turn into some afterschool special on peer pressure or anything.”
She glanced up at him from under her lashes with an expression he could only call mischievous on her face. “No worries, Lachlan,” she said, following his lead with the last name calling. “You’re right. I could do with a little vacationing. For a few hours, anyway.”
She raised the glass to him in a salute and then downed it. His eyebrows hit his hairline. He’d expected her to sip at the drink, maybe while holding a dainty pinkie up in the air. She surprised him at every turn.
She slammed the drained glass on the table while blowing out a silent whistle. “Ooo, that was good.”
His eyes widened as she grabbed a second glass and did the same thing while he just sat and stared at her, his jaw probably scraping the ground like some sort of strangling guppy.
She, on the other hand, was taking in their surroundings with an increasing air of enthusiasm. When her eyes caught sight of the stage at the far end of the bar where the live band had been quietly playing a few sets of generic music, her entire demeanor changed.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, ignoring his slight grunt of surprise.
By the time Brooks, Leah, Harrison, Nikki, Cole, Kiersten, Izzy, and Cass made it to the bar and dragged some seats up to the table, Charley was strapping on a guitar and testing it out with a few chords.
“What’s going on?” Harrison asked, his posh British accent seeming even more out of place than usual.
“No clue,” Chris said, his eyes transfixed on Charley, who was now adjusting the microphone in front of her mouth. She explained to the small audience, in fluent Spanish no less, that the band had kindly agreed to let her sing one of her favorite songs.
“Is she drunk?” Izzy asked.
Chris tore his gaze from the stage long enough to shrug. “Probably. She only had two shots, but she downed them back to b
ack pretty quick, and I have no idea when she’s eaten last.”
Instead of being dismayed, Izzy grinned. “Two-drink Charley is a friggin blast.”
“Can she actually sing and play that thing?” he asked just as the opening notes of the song echoed through the bar. “Never mind,” he murmured, his attention riveted to the stranger who had taken over Charley’s body on the stage.
His body was already moving in time with the deep notes emanating from her surprisingly talented fingers when she sang the first few words in a sultry voice that had him squirming on his chair. And then the words registered.
He turned to Izzy. “Is she singing The Grinch song?”
Izzy hooted some encouragement at the stage and sat at the edge of her chair, excited energy surging from her. “Oh yeah. She shreds the shit out of this song. She did this for our talent show junior year of high school. We thought for sure she’d be the next Pat Benatar or Pink until…”
Izzy stopped talking, her lips pinched. But before Chris could ask what that was all about, Charley’s voice went from sultry to flat-out metal rock goddess, and he was riveted. Her fingers flew over the guitar strings while the drummer and band behind her started picking up on her beat and playing along.
“Holy shit,” he said, pretty sure he’d never been so surprised or turned on in his life as he was right in that moment watching his composed, librarian-ish, risk assessor up on that stage giving Axel Rose a run for his money.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Izzy said.
And she was right.
Charley spent the next four and a half minutes delivering what was hands down the best rock performance he’d ever seen in his life.
It was official. Metal Grinch was his new favorite song. Ever.
“Look at him,” Brooks said. “He can’t take his eyes off her. I double my bet.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through it.
“Ditto,” Cole said.
The rest of the group jumped in with a chorus of double downs and a few who wanted to move their dates up.
The last note of Charley’s song faded away, and she stepped back from the microphone, looking a bit dazed. Their eyes locked, only for a moment, but long enough to send an electric shock through him that had him sucking in a breath.
The band members surrounded her, blocking her from Chris’s sight. And his friends’ conversation finally registered in his brain.
“Wait a second,” he said. “You assholes bet on when Charley and I will hook up?”
“Absolutely,” Cole said.
“No, we didn’t,” Kiersten said. Chris relaxed for a second, but he shouldn’t have, because her next words had him tensed up again. “The bet is for when you two will get together. You know…like a couple.”
He stared at her, mouth slightly open, though he couldn’t seem to force any words out. Kiersten had the grace to look a little sheepish, but the guys had no such compulsion.
“Unbelievable,” he said.
Brooks snorted. “You can’t be that surprised. I’m pretty sure you were part of the pool on every single one of us.”
“That’s not true,” Chris said, though his voice lacked the conviction it needed to get his point across. Mostly because they were right. He scowled at them. “It’s not the same.”
“Why?” Harrison asked. “Because now you’re the one in the hot seat?”
“Yes!” he said, though his irritation only made them laugh harder.
Really, he couldn’t get too mad. It’s what they did. Placed bets on everything and everyone, especially when it came to their love lives.
“We really need to get a new hobby,” he muttered.
“Sounds like a plan,” Izzy said. “Next time. This time around, I’m in!” She took Brooks’ phone from him so she could peruse the pool calendar.
“You’re all going to lose. She’s off-limits. I touch her and any credibility she has as my risk assessor goes out the window. She’s my last shot to get insured. There’s no way I’m screwing this up.”
That cooled their enthusiasm. For all of three seconds.
“True love will always find a way!” Brooks said and went back to scrolling through the betting pool board with Izzy.
“You’re all insane,” Chris said.
“Ah, you know we love you,” Izzy said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, though his attention was only half on them. Charley was still on the stage, speaking to the band members, who seemed very happy with her performance. They weren’t the only ones. He could quite happily sit and watch her sing for the rest of his life.
And that was a major problem.
He was so screwed.
Chapter Seven
Charley let the last note die away before she stepped back from the mic and took a deep breath. It had been a very long time since she’d performed anything on stage. She still played when she was home alone. But getting on stage and letting it all go? She hadn’t done that since…
The memories rushing back in went a long way toward burning off the pleasant buzz the alcohol had given her. Enough to burn away the residual high of performing in front of a cheering crowd. Performing in front of one person in particular. She looked back into the audience, met his gaze. Those intense eyes that seemed to paralyze her legs and glue her to the spot. That look shook her straight to her core. She hadn’t meant to garner his attention by climbing on that stage. She didn’t really know what she’d meant to do. She’d pounded those shots, felt the fire flowing through her, seen the stage…and that was it.
She’d forgotten how much performing called to her. It was something she’d said good-bye to long ago. But when she’d seen that stage, seen the guitar, with the adrenaline from the casino fiasco still tearing through her, not to mention all the hormones Chris seemed to have awakened when he’d decided to go all caveman on her…she just couldn’t help herself.
Now, it was like Pandora’s box had been opened. She needed to cram everything back inside before it took her over and the darkness and panic from the early days after the accident that had nearly claimed her brother’s life took over. Again.
She lifted the guitar from around her neck and handed it back to the band member to whom it belonged. He clapped her on the back and offered her a job singing with them any time she wanted. She nodded and mumbled something in response then hurried off the stage and into the hallway, which, thankfully, was where the ladies’ room was located. She pushed her way inside and stumbled to the sink.
The cold water she splashed on her face helped. She splashed a few more handfuls on, letting the icy sting snap her out of the whirling misery of her thoughts. Though it was different this time. This time, there was one bright spot in the haze of darkness. Chris, his face shining up at her from the audience. Those beckoning eyes of his offering more than the rest of him was willing to back up, she bet. Didn’t matter anyway. He was nothing but the shiny object that would derail her from her plans. The bell to her bird. The squirrel to her dog. Her kryptonite.
Someone handed her a fistful of paper towels, and she jumped then relaxed when she saw Izzy. “Sorry,” she said, taking them to pat her face dry. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I noticed. Got a lot going on in that head of yours, don’t you?”
Charley met Izzy’s gaze in the mirror. “You could say that.”
Izzy cocked her head. “Old stuff? Or new stuff?” She said that last bit with a speculative smile Charley didn’t like.
“Both. Not that it matters.”
“Of course it does.”
“Why?”
Izzy sighed and turned around to lean against the sink. “Because you’ve spent too long letting the old stuff keep you from the new stuff. The accident wasn’t your fault. That’s why they call it an accident. And Derrick is fine. Continuing to punish yourself for it isn’t good for anyone. Especially you.”
“Derrick almost died, Iz. He did lose an ear. And it is my fault. I w
as the one driving the car.”
“It was dark and wet…”
“And I was going too fast.”
“You were sixteen.”
“Yeah. And I knew better.”
“Chuck, you were a kid. Kids make mistakes. You can’t control everything all the time. You need to stop beating yourself up about this.”
Charley smoothed her shirt down and tucked her hair behind her ears. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Right. That’s why you have to be so in control of yourself in every situation that you barely let yourself smile, let alone enjoy life. You’re wound so tight you’re like a walking time bomb. I don’t think you’d be half as klutzy as you are if you’d loosen up a bit.”
She might have a point there, but Charley didn’t want to admit it. “What you always fail to understand is that I do enjoy my life. I love my job, and I’m going to love being my own boss even more. I like being organized and professional, and I like having my shit together. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Except you don’t seem to differentiate between bad risk and good risk. Sometimes you need to leap before you look, you know? And sometimes, you just need to cut loose and have a little fun without worrying about the consequences.”
“That’s fun for you, Iz. Not me. For me, that sounds like a Class A nightmare. And I’m seriously not having this conversation again,” Charley said, throwing the paper towels away.
She headed for the door, but Izzy stopped her. “Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“But…”
Charley tilted her head back and groaned at the ceiling. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
Izzy grinned with her full-on cheeser smile, and Charley laughed. Izzy could always make her laugh.
“I’ll drop the part about Derrick. But we still need to have some words about Chris.”
Charley frowned. “I don’t see why.”
Izzy shook her head. “Woman, you are seriously deep in denial if you haven’t noticed him noticing you. And you noticing him back.”