Sweet Burn

by Anne Marsh

  Her text, when it came, made him smile. I went out to play, honey.

  Anywhere close? He could hope.

  Her answer came too fast. Nope. I’ve got ninety miles on you.

  Is your location a national secret?

  To his surprise, she gave up the information. Last Chance Casino.

  He knew the place. It was a smaller casino, a good two-hour drive from Strong if one was particular about speed limits and lethal S-curves in the road. It was most definitely not where he’d have expected her to end up. Why?

  For one long minute, he thought she wouldn’t respond, then I went for a ride and this is where I ended up.

  Just once, he’d like her to stay put, and yet the image of her tackling the road at seventy miles an hour on her bike was compelling. She was a wild thing.

  You up for company? he typed.

  She sent him a winky face instead of any actual words. Damned if he had any idea what that meant.

  My turn to deal.

  He waited, but she didn’t respond. Dealing, apparently.

  He looked at his untouched beer. Her words weren’t a yes. Of course, they weren’t a no, either, so he had room to work. He sent a quick text to Jack, letting the other man know that he’d be leaving town for the night and unavailable for any first-crack-of-dawn jump that might materialize overnight. Then he stood up, grabbed his keys, and headed out. Her words sure sounded like a date to him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The casino wasn’t Vegas. The place was smoky from cigarettes and the slot machines rang with deafening glee, the reels whizzing and turning, making dreams seem impossibly close and then equally unlikely as the patterns failed to match up, the last cherry or fireball zipping tantalizingly out of reach. A busload of senior citizens methodically pressed buttons on a bank of Fourth of July themed slot machines. As Mimi stared, one of them hit, treating the casino floor to a few bars from the Star Spangled Banner. The dress code ran to velour tracksuits and practical sneakers. She looked down at her boots and grimaced. Sneakers would have been a wise choice. Her feet hurt.

  Her butt was also falling asleep, because she’d parked herself at the Texas Hold-Em table three hours ago and hadn’t moved. Her bladder protested her current location, but she was up two hundred bucks, down two drinks, and hadn’t thought about Mack and his texts more than once.

  Or twice.

  Mission accomplished.

  She was certain he knew where she was, because she’d a) told him exactly where she’d gone and b) he’d been the one to tell her about the casino in the first place. She forgot why the place had come up, but he’d named it and even told her exactly how many miles outside of Strong it was. Tonight, when a case of itchy feet had hit, she’d remembered what he’d said and decided the place made as good a goal as any. She’d ridden, burning rubber and not pulling off until she saw the sign.

  Last Chance Casino.

  She could use the luck and, if luck failed her, flirting and drinking up a storm would do. That was her plan for tonight. She pulled out her phone, but Mack hadn’t responded to her last text—a text that she’d sent almost two hours ago. His loss. He’d probably either gone back to work or to bed.

  Alone.

  She had every intention of having a good time tonight.

  For months, she’d been itching to run. Imagining getting on her bike, driving off and never looking back. The fantasy of hitting the road had kept her going, because the possibility of being trapped in Strong for the rest of her life—or even just the next few years—made her want to howl. This wasn’t how she was supposed to end up. She’d had different plans for her life. More exciting plans.

  And then Mack had started coming around and things had gotten interesting. Even sleeping with him at Faye and Evan’s wedding hadn’t driven him off. And she’d tried. God, she’d tried. He stuck, though, like the proverbial bad penny. She liked that more than she cared to admit.

  The dealer looked at her. “You in for the next round?

  The other poker players seated at her table were predictable. An elderly retiree, a not-yet-thirty-something who had cashed his paycheck at the casino cage, and a soldier in fatigues. She could take them.

  “You bet,” she said and anted up.

  ***

  Mimi had her back to him when Mack strode onto the casino floor. She leaned in, resting her cheek on her elbow, while the dealer dealt the cards. She had a highball glass near her elbow. Probably Jack and Coke, he decided, because she hadn’t driven all this way for a plain Coke. The guy on her right, a soldier in fatigues, laughed as she said something and bumped his shoulder. She looked happy, then she looked down at her cards and made a face.

  The soldier promptly raised. Sucker.

  The retired guy sitting on her other side was smart enough to fold.

  Sure enough, by the time he reached the table, Mimi had raked in the soldier’s chips. Mack was pretty sure the guy had no idea why he’d lost his stack. That’s what happened when you underestimated Mimi. She cleaned you out. He had no intention of making that mistake himself.

  The soldier cursed and stood up. Out of cash. As he got ready to go, he leaned in, placing his hands on Mimi’s shoulders, and whispered something into her ear. It didn’t take much imagination to come up with a few possibilities. She was flirtatious, playful—and the guy had decided that was his invitation to score. Mack didn’t like imagining exactly what the soldier had said. She shook her head and the guy moved off.

  He didn’t say a word, just dropped into the chair the soldier had vacated and motioned for the dealer to cut him in.

  She eyed him for a minute, chewing on the end of her straw. She didn’t say anything, but he probably didn’t look too welcoming himself. He tried to sneak a peek at her mood ring, but she dropped her hand into her lap.

  “You got my text,” she said finally, nodding when the dealer silently asked if she was still playing.

  “Two pieces of punctuation doesn’t constitute a text.” He would have preferred an invitation.

  She shrugged. “You made it here.”

  The old guy wandered away, leaving just the two of them to play heads up. The dealer dealt them each two cards.

  “A little out of your way, isn’t it?”

  Mimi was an aggressive player, but he’d expected no less. She’d never learned to say no or to stop, just went all in and always, always raised him, even when sitting out a hand might have been safer. Fortunately, their table wasn’t a high stakes table. Each chip represented a dollar, which gave her a grand total of fifty bucks to play with.

  “I’ll see you,” she said eventually.

  “You don’t have the chips.” He counted her stack and she was definitely short. She played well, but aggressively, and he had more chips. That gave him the advantage.

  “You’re going to have to fold,” he said cheerfully.

  She made a face. He admired her strength and her absolute unwillingness to quit, even in the face of bad odds, but he was playing for keeps here, so he leaned over. “I could be convinced to make you a loan.”

  “Oh, really.” That was definitely laughter in her eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be the incorruptible one. That sounds positively naughty.”

  “I’ve learned from the best,” he said gruffly.

  “What do you want?”

  He reached over and tugged at the mood ring she always wore on her ring finger. “You’re going to bet me that.”

  “My ring would look absolutely lovely on your hand,” she deadpanned. “I can see why you covet it.”

  He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and set it on the table between them.

  “If I win, you trade your ring for mine.”

  ***

  He didn’t

  He hadn’t.

  Mimi felt cold and then hot. Mack had talked about getting married, but words were just words. She’d heard them from plenty of people in the last ten years. People opened
their mouths. Words came out. Just moving from one night stand to repeat sex was an upgrade in her book, and now he was pushing for more.

  “You want to trade rings.”

  “Open the box,” he said in that rough voice that always got her going. The casino had a hotel. They could go upstairs and hide out from the world…

  There was no mistaking the twinkle in the dealer’s eyes. Mack had clearly won the woman over without even trying. “You definitely need to play out this hand.”

  Mimi was pretty sure betting rings violated at least a dozen casino rules, but she couldn’t make herself take the box. Instead, she just stared like an idiot.

  “I’ll give you a hint. It’s not a snake.” His fingers tugged off her mood ring and tossed it into the center of the table.

  “I—” Should protest. Should do something because she’d lost control of the situation.

  “Open the box, Mimi. Then you can win or lose, but look first.”

  So she did. God help her, but she did exactly as he demanded. She hooked the box toward her and picked it up. It was a little black velvet box, the kind itty-bitty goodness from a jeweler came in. Auntie Belle had a whole souvenir treasure trove stash of the things—empty, of course—and Mimi liked imagining what might have been inside. This one wasn’t empty. She knew that before she popped the top, the same way she knew this box wasn’t a souvenir, not yet. She and Mack were still making memories, the kind you told your kids and grandkids about.

  The ring was perfect, like the man watching her. She fought back a prickle of tears because, damn it, she didn’t cry any more than she did relationships or happily ever after. Diamonds winked up at her from the thin circlet of silver, a delicate opal surrounded by a fortune in beautiful, beautiful glitter. She narrowed her eyes. See? No more tears.

  “Your ring is worth more than mine.”

  “I don’t think so. Deal.”

  She wished she knew what was going through his head, why he was so adamant that he looked at her and saw marriage. She was no prize, although he made her feel like one. Which was what he’d been trying to tell her for weeks now, but he didn’t know everything about her. He didn’t, for instance, know that she’d done the to-have-and-to-hold thing before—briefly—and that it hadn’t worked out for her. He’d feel differently if knew and she opened her mouth to tell him. But nothing came out.

  “You in?” The dealer sounded anxious. Happy, even. It was probably the most excitement the woman had seen all week. That, or maybe she had memories of her own, because her thumb stroked over a worn wedding band on her own ring finger.

  “I am,” she said and the dealer sent the cards flying deftly over the table until both she and Mack had two cards, face-down in front of them. She had two Jacks, which wasn’t too shabby. She could work with the knaves.

  When she bet, Mack immediately countered. Whatever he was holding, he was either confident—or wanted her to think he was. The dealer placed three more cards on the table. A Jack, a King, and a club. She was sitting pretty.

  “I’m thinking I’m keeping my ring,” she teased, shoving most of her remaining chip stack into the center of the table. Why not? They were clearly playing for keeps and she was almost certain she was winning this one. There weren’t too many cards Mack could be holding that would trump her hand.

  The deal revealed the turn card, a five of diamonds. No help there, but she was pretty certain it didn’t do much for Mack either. She checked.

  The river card came up a King. Holy moly. Too bad they weren’t playing the house for this one.

  “You ready for this?” Mack grinned at her, and she swore the dealer was more nervous than she was.

  “Show me what you’ve got,” she demanded, flipping her cards over.

  And… she lost. Just like that, she lost. The bastard had two Kings of his own. Four of a kind.

  “I win.” Mack smiled slowly.

  Yeah. He did. Except… she didn’t feel like a loser.

  He reached out and snagged her mood ring from their impromptu pot in the center of the table. The ring was dark, growing blacker and blacker as the stone cooled down. “You got an instruction manual for this?”

  “Bet you’d like that.”

  “Sure.” His fingers rubbed over first her knuckles, then her palm, leaving erotic skitters running up and down her spine. Shit, half the casino watching them. They were a sideshow.

  “You going to put it on?”

  He nudges the box toward her and she took it. Her hands were steady. Mostly. When she reached for the ring, drawing it out of its velvet bed, the band felt impossibly light. So pretty. There was a wedding band in there too, she noticed, because Mack clearly did like taking chances.

  She looked up at him. “You’re not going to put it on me?”

  He shook his head. “I did the asking. This part is up to you.”

  “Which finger?”

  She didn’t know what to do here, but one thing was clear. If she put that ring on her finger, she was making promises. She’d done that once, with a different guy, and it hadn’t worked out well for anyone. She needed to know that this would be different.

  “Any one you want,” he said roughly. He sounded like he had all the time in the world. Like if she took a month of Sundays, he’d still be sitting right there, waiting for her to finish up. Huh. Imagine that.

  “Come on, honey,” the dealer urged. “Show us how it looks.”

  The temptation to slide Mack’s ring onto her middle finger was almost overwhelming. They’d have themselves a good laugh and the moment would be over. She’d be safe. She even started to, but then she hesitated. Screw it. She’d put it where she wanted to. The ring slid nice and snug over her knuckle, settling against the base of her finger. It looked even better on than in its box. Applause broke out on the casino floor and the dealer called for champagne. Not that the casino had the real stuff, she reminded herself. It would be a three-dollar-a-bottle fake. Which worked. It really did. Fake champagne, because she couldn’t really be engaged to Mack. They were playing a game—she just didn’t know what the rules were.

  That was all.

  This couldn’t possibly be more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mack’s phone rang. The last thing he wanted to do was answer it, but he knew that ringtone. Jack was calling and that meant they had a problem. For just a moment, he toyed with the idea of ignoring Jack’s call. Mimi wearing his ring was a cause for celebration and the last thing he wanted right now was more bad news.

  “Dare you,” she said, looking up at him with a glint in her eyes. Her mischief was wasted on him, though, because they both knew he wouldn’t ignore the incoming call. Still, he hooked a hand through Mimi’s arm. She could come with him.

  “Yeah?” he snapped, knowing he sounded short and not giving a damn.

  “It’s Jack.” The other man sounded apologetic. He probably had a pretty good idea of what Mack was up to. Jack had a wife after all.

  Mack strode toward the door, in search of fresh air and a degree of privacy. Mimi followed along, but he suspected her easy accompaniment was more because she wanted to get away from the champagne-happy dealer. Mimi didn’t like attention, which was why she acted so outrageously. People didn’t see her; they just saw the misdeeds. Right now, half the casino floor was beaming smiles in their direction. Everyone liked a happy ending.

  He snorted. Like Mimi would making it this easy for him.

  “What’s up?”

  “Where exactly are you?” Jack asked.

  “I made it to Last Chance and I just finished putting that ring of mine on Mimi’s finger.”

  He dropped a kiss on her mouth, not caring what carried over the phone. Jack could just suck it up. Mimi was wearing some kind of dark pink lipstick that tasted like cherries. The color was definitely his new favorite.

  Jack swore and he raised a brow. Mimi gave a snort of laughter beside him.

  “We’ve got a situation,” Jack said.
r />   Mimi wriggled into his side, and he tightened his arm around her as he took her out the front door. And… Jack’s situation was immediately clear. Shit. Mimi’s laugher cut off as she looked up and connected the dots. It was just past five a.m. and the sky should still have been dark. It wasn’t. A thick plume of smoke rose over a nearby hill, lit up by an all-too-familiar orange glow. The air was thick and smoky. He turned his head, counting the cars in the front parking lot, and the sheriff pulled in with lights flashing. The guy parked his car across the parking lot’s exit, which said it all.

  “I think I see your situation,” he said dryly.

  Jack didn’t bother with chitchat. He got straight to it. “There are two hotshot teams on the ground, cutting line, plus all the local firefighter units the IC can pull in. The terrain is rough, so they drove in as far as they could and spent the last twenty-four cutting line. The winds kicked up about an hour ago and the fire hopped the line.”

  Jack sounded tired.

  So much for romancing Mimi.

  “What are the options? Can they hold it before it hits the casino?” he asked, striding towards the sheriff. Two more cars pulled in. He saw law enforcement. What he did not see were firefighters. The air tankers couldn’t fly in the dark. If he was Incident Command, though, he’d have those bad boys gassed up and ready to hit the runway just as soon as the sun cracked the horizon and he was inside the legal fly zone. He squinted at the orange line on the horizon.

  The problem was, they didn’t have an hour. He was guessing they had thirty minutes tops. Two fire engines pulled in and split up, one heading around the back of the casino. Firefighters poured out of the first vehicle, unwinding hoses and clearly preparing to wet down the surrounding area. Ah, hell.