“We want you to have this one.” She placed her hand on top of mine. “It looks good on you.”
It was kind of hard to argue with both of them. “You guys are sure?”
“Yes,” they both nearly shouted.
“Thank you. I love it.”
“We know.” Ryan leaned over and kissed my cheek. I kissed him back. “If you lose it there will be hell to pay.”
“Hell.” Reese kissed my other cheek. It felt entirely different kissing her back.
“Thanks.”
“Okay, now that that’s over with, I’m going to go.” Ryan stood. “I’ll be back tomorrow probably.”
“What? Right now? No, you’re not.” I abandoned the couch to follow him into his room as he picked up stuff to bring with him.
“It’s one o’clock. If I go now I can be back by tomorrow morning.”
“Hell no. We’re partying tonight.”
“We should really pick up the IDs.”
“Why rush? It’s my twenty-first birthday and we’re in fucking Las Vegas.” It seemed logical to me. “We have to live it up.”
“Fuck.” Ryan dropped the backpack he was holding. “We’re in fucking Vegas for your fucking twenty-first birthday,” he screamed. “How the fuck did that happen? Reese.” He sprinted back out to the main room. “Reese. Vegas. Twenty-one.”
“Ryan.” I followed him out. “Hey, Ryan.” He finally looked at me. “We already knew that.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t, like, catch on, you know?”
Reese and I stared at each other, a little worried about him. I decided to step up. “Darlin’, remember how we always tell you to smoke less weed?” He nodded. We’d only told him a million times. “I think you just proved why.”
“You guys are mean.” He pouted.
Reese and I nodded. We were mean. “So are you going to stay so we can go out?”
“Duh.” My best friend was such a genius.
*
We lost Reese five minutes after stepping onto the casino floor. It was probably good that she had suggested that we stay in one casino all night. Didn’t want to get lost or anything. Not that it mattered. We were there to have a good time. The hotel casino was a step up from the usual. Just like our hotel suite, it was all trendy and art deco and subtle class, but underneath that, it was still a casino. Slot machines covered the elaborate carpet, and there were still unshaven, unclean men wandering around looking decimated. Ryan and I were just playing the part of gamblers. Mostly because we had no clue how to gamble. Slots were fun because they required no thought. Blackjack was cool because we could add to twenty-one. Craps looked cool, but we couldn’t follow it so we stayed away. After all those James Bond movies, we probably should have understood it, but, oh well. A couple hours in, we were pretty much breaking even. I was up ten bucks. Ryan was down about fifteen. Not too bad.
“Where do you think Reese is?”
“Dunno.” Ryan handed me another beer from one of the beautiful, though slightly vapid waitresses.
“Should we find her? I want to go hit up that club.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to lose any more money. Makes me feel like a loser.” He pouted his beautiful lips and tried to summon some tears to his eyes. They were shot through with sensuous gray. He was definitely drunk.
“Darlin’, when you lose money, you are a loser. That’s where the name comes from.”
“You always know how to make a boy feel good.” He gave me a sloppy smile. We slung our arms around each other and started wandering through the casino looking for Reese. Our efforts didn’t get us far. Thirty minutes later, we were drunker and no closer to finding Ryan’s sexier half.
“Excuse me.” I got the attention of a waitress. “Have you seen a really hot girl who looks like him?” I pointed to Ryan. “But like super hotter than him.” That was kind of what I was trying to say.
“You mean Ms. DiGiovanni?” she asked. Whoa.
“That’s her.” Ryan didn’t seem to notice that some waitress knew his sister by name. Or if he did, he didn’t care.
“She’s in the back playing poker. If you’d like I can show you where.” The woman offered with a smile. Helpful.
“That’dbegreat.” No more beer for Ryan.
The waitress took off weaving through people, smiling at some, ignoring others. At the back of the casino, she escorted us into the poker room and pointed us toward Reese.
“Thanks,” I attempted, but she was already gone.
Ryan and I leaned against the wall and watched Reese. She didn’t look nearly as lost as she should have. Actually, she looked totally sexy. Her soft, pale pink shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down her sternum giving an appropriately tormenting view of tanned cleavage. Wide cuffs were turned up to just below her elbow, which made her look like a swindler and a poker player all at the same time. I couldn’t see her eyes; they were hidden by Ryan’s oversized aviators. She was smoking a slim cigar. I wasn’t close enough, but I knew that, under the reek of cigar smoke, it smelled faintly of honey.
In a practiced motion, she pushed her hair back and deliberately placed her cards on the fabric-covered table. Around her, the other players and few spectators leaned back with resigned faces.
“Ryan.” He stopped playing with his tie long enough to look at me. “She looks like she knows what she’s doing.”
“So?” He leaned over and tried to play with my tie. His must have gotten boring.
“Stop it.” I smacked his hand away.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Great, he’d entered his drunk and whining phase.
“Fine. I’ll go get her.” I left him leaning against the wall and made for Reese.
I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You look like a real poker player.”
Her shoulders stiffened, only for a second and then she relaxed. “Gentlemen.” She turned to the only other woman at the table, a striking blonde with creamy freckled skin. “And lady.” Reese flashed that grin like Ryan’s. Instantly, I was jealous. “Thank you for the game, but I’m being summoned.” She stood, tipped the dealer, and slid her arm through mine. I straightened, assuming the role of escort, and led her back to Ryan.
“Whoa.” Ryan looked up from the carpet he was studying. “You guys look like a couple.”
Reese and I looked at each other. Her wide legged, dark gray pants looked good next to my slim charcoal slacks. Our shirts were different, mine was plain white, but the tie I was wearing was pale pink and gray. We looked like we’d dressed together. Like fuckin’ high school prom.
“Shit, it’s the tie isn’t it?”
“I didn’t even notice.” Reese was as thrown as I was.
“Ryan, trade ties with me.” I started loosening mine, until I looked at his. “Sailboats? That is so lame.”
“Yeah, keep yours,” Reese said after studying Ryan’s tie.
“What’s wrong with sailboats?” He lifted it closer to his face. “Your dad gave me this tie.”
“And he’s so fashionable.” I loved my father, really, but there was no way I’d wear his clothes.
“Anyway, I like this one.” Reese drew her fingers down my tie.
“Why are you guys agreeing?” Ryan looked shocked. “Don’t be nice to each other. I don’t like it.”
“You always wanted us to get along. Why are you complaining now?” I teased him.
“Well, you can get along. Just don’t team up on me.”
“How drunk is he?” Reese leaned closer to look at his eyes. “I think it’s time to slow down, bro.”
“I think it’s time to go clubbin’.” He started making music and dancing by himself.
Reese glanced at me and I nodded. “Okay, we’ll go clubbin’. I want to get something out of the room first though.” She took him by the arm and steered him out of the casino. In the elevator, he fell asleep on my shoulder. We got him to the room and dumped him on the couch.
“All right, you ready to go?” I asked before he even hit the cushions.
“Go where?”
“The club downstairs. It’s supposed to be cool.” Reese looked pointedly at Ryan. “Just turn him on his side.” I’d lost her.
“His side?”
“So if he pukes he won’t choke.” She grimaced at my explanation. I went to the bar, grabbed a bottle of water, and set it on the table next to Ryan. Then I turned him on his side. “There, he’ll be fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now, come on.” Reluctantly, she followed me to the door.
*
The club was dark, as they should be, and seething with the sort of sexuality that only youth and misunderstood immaturity can inspire. We passed through a lounge of sorts, down a subtly lavish hallway, and descended into Tryst. There was a waterfall, we were told, but that didn’t interest me.
“Let’s dance.” My grip on Reese tightened as she walked with me and I dragged her to the floor, the booze in my system making me stupid and bold.
Reese didn’t pull away like I expected. She moved closer and, upon reflection, put her arms around my shoulders. The song was heavy, thick, like sweat, and desperate. When Reese’s leg pressed between mine, I didn’t even consider it. I just pulled her against me tighter. We moved like that, pushed closer by the crowds, not caring about our precarious embrace. Her warm breath on my neck was indistinguishable from the hot air in the club, except I knew it was hers. My heartbeat was probably visible under my no longer crisp shirt. Her hand slid down and rested just above my breast, over my heart, and I knew she could feel it. Those dark eyes looked up at mine, shot through with gray, like Ryan’s had been. Reese wasn’t drunk though and she wasn’t mad either. She was something else.
I was going to make an ass of myself. There was no way I could play off a botched kiss or grope as a drunken mistake. I’d need a lot more booze to pull that off. Resigned to the insatiable hunger I was feeling, I just kept dancing. It bordered on pain considering my increasingly swollen clit and how my nipples rubbed against my unforgiving shirt. As if Reese knew, she pressed closer so her lips hovered above my neck. I needed something to distract myself, anything.
Ryan. The twins were practically indistinguishable from each other. I just had to tell myself it was him. I was dancing with Ryan. That was harmless. That curtain of silky hair was his. The hands roaming my body, Ryan’s. That flash of opulent eyes, my best friend. Thinking about Ryan was like a cold shower. Painful and only slightly effective. I couldn’t do it.
“I need a drink.” I dropped back a step.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Me too.”
I nodded and took her hand to drag her behind me to the bar. “Two single malts,” I shouted to the bartender. When they were placed before me, I downed mine in one gulp and asked for another. It went in one smooth swallow as well. I’d barely picked up the third when Reese dragged me away and put me at a table.
“You okay there?” There was almost some concern in her voice.
“Fine. Just warm.” That was sort of truthful.
“That probably won’t help.” She tried pulling on my hand. “Come on. Let’s dance some more.”
“I’m good for now, thanks.” If I went back out there with her, there was a good chance I’d embarrass myself. The third drink was even easier.
“Come on.”
“Really, thank you. I’m good.” I was begging her to let me alone. She didn’t see it that way.
“Fine. Have fun.”
I saluted her with the glass she left behind then emptied it.
*
Her hands were buried in my hair. There’s something about styling your hair that just makes chicks want to mess it up. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and out again, a teasing promise for later. She had great lips. I slid my hands up the outside of her thighs inching her skirt higher. I was considering taking her to the bathroom to finish the job when someone grabbed the back of my shirt and jerked me away. Not again.
“I want to go,” Reese said. Her eyes shot back and forth between me and the girl I was making out with.
“So go,” I said. I didn’t need to hold her hand.
“You need to take me up to the room.” Demanding.
“Sorry.” The girl removed my hand from her skirt. “I didn’t mean to get in the middle of anything.”
“You didn’t,” I assured her.
“Cooper.” Reese looked like she could kill.
“Damn it, Reese. What?”
“Take me back to the room.”
“Fine.” I turned to the girl. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t look too upset.
“Can we go now?” Reese started to drag me out of the club.
I managed to restrain myself until we were in the elevator. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“My problem?” She managed to look innocent.
“Yes. Your fuckin’ problem,” I shouted. “Why’d you drag me out of there?”
“You needed help.”
“Help?” Reese nodded. “Help with what?”
“That trashy chick was all over you.” She turned away. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m welcome?” I grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face me. “Did it occur to you that my hand was up her skirt?” Reese glared at the hand gripping her shoulder. “And the fact that I was kissing her might have been an indication that I was having fun?” The elevator door opened.
“Oh, please. She was nasty. I did you a favor.” Reese lowered her already calm voice as we walked through the hallway.
“A favor?” I had no intention of lowering my voice to indulge her. “Right. You just wanted me out of there. I’ve got no fucking idea why.”
“It is a little rude to ditch someone you go to a club with to make out with some disgusting girl.” Reese’s etiquette for the insane.
“Yeah, if we were on a date.” I opened the door to our room. “But we weren’t on a fucking date.”
“It’s still rude.”
“You know what? Just lay off, okay?” She turned her back on me. “And, Reese.” She stopped walking. “You can’t manipulate me like you do everyone else. Remember that.”
She spun to face me. “You can’t control yourself. What makes you think you have any control over me?”
“You’ve got issues, buttercup.”
“You have issues.”
With that, we went into our rooms and slammed the doors.
Chapter Twelve
The next afternoon when I woke up, Ryan was gone. In his place was a note. Went for stuff. Back tomorrow morning. Great.
I had no intention of being there when Reese’s door opened. Since it was almost three in the afternoon, that would probably be soon. I changed and was about to leave for the pool. My hand was on the door when I turned back. The guilt was killing me and I didn’t even know what I was guilty about. I picked up the phone and ordered some room service for Reese’s breakfast. Just some fruit and other stuff Reese liked. When it arrived, I wrote a note explaining where I was, but with no overt remorse. Then I went down to the pool feeling slightly less terrible.
I’d only been there twenty minutes when one of the ever-present waitresses brought me a mimosa.
“I, uh, didn’t ask for that.” A mimosa sounded damn good, but I wasn’t sure where it came from.
“It was sent from a Ms. DiGiovanni,” was her explanation before floating away.
I guess that meant we’d forgiven each other. For another twenty minutes, I procrastinated in the sun sipping my drink. It was boring by the pool. And hot. I decided to suck it up and go back to the room.
“Hey,” I called when I opened the door.
“Hey,” Reese responded. The suite smelled like her shampoo and she was only wearing a towel. That was trouble. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Uhh, yeah. No problem.” I tried not to stare at the towel knotted above her breasts. No, fuck that. I tried not to stare at her breasts. “I’m gonna jump in.” I indicated the shower. She nodded.
>
When I emerged from the bathroom with wet hair, Reese was dressed in tight, cuffed Bermuda shorts and a loose V-neck T-shirt with nothing underneath it. The outline of her fantastic nipples was just barely visible.
“You want to walk the Strip?” Reese asked without looking at me. I pretended to deliberate. She turned to look at me. “If we stay here we’re just going to drive each other crazy. So we may as well blow a couple hundred bucks.” It was a convincing argument. “If we go, you can play on the opposite side of the casino. You won’t even have to see me.” She was joking. I was almost sure of it.
“Just don’t let me drink any booze.” Because I might do something stupid.
“Me either. I’m already going to be hung over for a week.”
“I’ll be right back. I need clothes.” At her nod, I went into my room. If we were walking the Strip, I needed to blend. Cargo shorts, my favorite western shirt, and flip-flops.
“You look like a tool,” Reese said when I came out.
“What? You don’t like the shirt?” I finished closing the little pearly snaps. What was wrong with western shirts?
“It’s so been done.”
“Not like this, buttercup.” I looked good. Fuck her. “And you’re the one who looks like a tool.” Mature.
“Witty, that’s why I like you.”
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.” Reese slid a folded stack of crisp hundred dollar bills into my pocket. Her fingertips dragged over my thigh through the cotton. My head went light. “Let’s go.” Dutifully, I followed her downstairs and onto the street.
“Do you think I should learn how to count cards?” I asked as we started walking.
“Assuming you could, which you can’t, definitely not.”
“It might be fun.”
“Until a guy named Vinny with a thick neck wants to discuss it. This is Vegas, sweetheart.” She had a point.
“Why are you always so condescending?” I slid an arm around her shoulders, presumably so we wouldn’t be separated by the crowds. Really, I just wanted to annoy her.
“Because you’re inferior,” came the simple answer.
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