Off Limits

by Jules Barnard

  “You’re welcome,” I say. She’s been bitching all week about her uniform.

  We walk to the center of the casino and Gen points out Bartender Mason in the lounge. He’s swapped the white and black casino uniform for a pair of jeans and a dark button-down.

  Mason’s broad shoulders fill out the shirt to hot-guy perfection, and I nudge Gen in the ribs, signaling my approval.

  She glares at me. If we weren’t close to her new friend, she’d tell me I’m behaving like a dork. Which is why I do it now, when I can get away with it.

  Mason stands, a wide smile spreading across his face as he glances at me then takes a leisurely look at Gen in her short denim skirt, T-shirt, and sandals.

  Neither of us anticipated going out after work when we dressed this morning, so we’re both on the casual side.

  A couple of guys sit at Mason’s table, along with a girl.

  “This is Adam and his girlfriend Breanna—” Mason gestures to a dark-haired pretty boy with pressed dress sleeves evenly rolled to his elbows.

  Breanna smiles while Adam does a not-so-sly perusal of our bodies, his gaze lingering on my chest. I’d like to say it’s because I have a large rack, but really, it’s because I displayed my boobs nicely.

  “And that’s Jaeger.”

  Jaeger? Like Mick Jagger, except with a long a? That name sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize the guy.

  Jaeger is a head taller than Adam, wearing a casual T-shirt and worn blue jeans, and his arms are as long as a basketball player’s. His light brown hair is cut close to his head, and though there’s something familiar about his face, I can’t place him.

  He’s cute, though, with a strong jaw line and symmetrical features that are too classically handsome to lump him in with the meatheads; his brows don’t protrude enough. He’s more genetically big than steroid-inflated.

  Jaeger gives Gen a cursory glance, then looks at me. His gaze falters and holds a second too long. He half nods in acknowledgement, and returns his attention to his friends.

  He hesitated when he looked at me. A sign I’m right about us knowing each other? I can’t ask him about it, though, because Adam is talking to him now.

  I study Jaeger some more and my gaze catches on full lips, trailing down to a very broad chest, muscled shoulders and arms, and—large hands. The guy has strong, well-formed hands.

  A shiver racks my body. I have a weakness for men’s hands… and I’ve veered off course. I’m checking out men for Gen, not me. But the only thing I’d complain about on Eric’s body are his long, thin hands. The rest of the package is so good, however, that I happily overlook it.

  This is beyond annoying. I swear I know this guy. Did we go to high school together?

  I wonder if Gen has noticed Jaeger. If Mason doesn’t work out, Jaeger should be put at the top of Gen’s list of prospects.

  “—we worked at Heavenly together,” Mason says, and I tune back in to the conversation. He’s just told Gen how he knows these guys.

  I take a seat beside Adam and Jaeger, leaving Gen the chair between Jaeger and Mason.

  We order drinks, and I turn and listen in as Adam continues what must have been the conversation Gen and I interrupted when we arrived.

  “I don’t know what he was thinking.” Adam shakes his head in disbelief. “Why would he cheat with prostitutes? Groupies, maybe—but prostitutes? Germs, man. Disease.” He mocks a shiver. “Just not right, even for a celebrity.”

  Gen and I are entertainment news junkies. I run through my mental Rolodex to ascertain which trashy celeb Adam’s referring to. The pop star? Or the athlete whose prior reputation was as a virgin former choirboy?

  It’s a tough call.

  I lean closer to catch the details, right as Jaeger eases back in his chair, his shoulder inches away. His body heat crosses the short distance between us, and a pleasant whiff of shaving cream fills my senses, making my heart beat faster. He runs his knuckles down firm thighs, and a ripple of attraction shoots through my belly.

  What the hell? I sit up, eyes trained on Adam. I haven’t noticed another guy since before Eric and I got together, and here I am, checking out one of Gen’s prospects, like he’s for me.

  My gaze darts to Jaeger’s face and I wonder again how I know him. The more I look, the more familiar he appears.

  Jaeger nods as if he’s listening to Adam, but he doesn’t contribute to the conversation. As though he knows Adam will continue talking without input from the others.

  Adam’s overly chatty. That’s annoying. It’s a good thing Mason introduced the girl beside Adam as his girlfriend, because I already struck the guy from Gen’s list.

  Mason pushes a spear of olives from one side of his martini glass to the other. “Why bother getting married? He should have stayed single.” He lifts the glass and takes a swallow.

  Gotta be the athlete. The pop star isn’t married. “You’re talking about that basketball player, right?” I say.

  Mason nods.

  “He’s a bastard.”

  A low rumble escapes from Jaeger. I glance up and catch a faint smile on his mouth.

  The conversation slowly turns to skiing and snowboarding, and Jaeger’s shoulder dips closer to me.

  “How have you been, Cali?” His deep voice turns my spine limp and spongy. I could melt from the sound of it and happily live as a sticky puddle on the lounge floor.

  We do know each other. “I’m sorry—you’re familiar, but I can’t remember how.”

  He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head angled toward me without directly looking. “Tyler.”

  Tyler’s my older brother.

  It all makes sense now.

  Images cross my mind of a tall, slender guy with blond, shaggy hair who used to hang out with Tyler during my freshman year in high school.

  My gaze rakes Jaeger’s hard, well-defined, and heavily muscled body. Is it possible for a guy to add sixty pounds of muscle and a couple extra inches of height between the ages of eighteen and—? I mentally calculate. He’s gotta be my brother’s age, about twenty-three—no, Tyler skipped a grade—Jaeger must be twenty-four.

  His hair is darker, but it was longer and probably sun-bleached when we were in high school. The guy I remember also had an unusual name, though I couldn’t say for sure that it was Jaeger. He was quiet, like this guy, and now that I look closer, the face is similar.

  This must be the same person, and if it is, he’s filled out. A lot.

  He also used to be a skiing champion and had a long-term girlfriend.

  I never thought he noticed me.

  Jaeger watches Mason tell a funny story about Adam, and a small smile curves his lips. It’s the cutest guy smile I’ve ever seen, and it transforms Jaeger from large, enigmatic male into something more approachable and appealing.

  He’s definitely going on Gen’s list. Not my list, because I don’t need a list, but Gen’s list, I remind myself.

  Mason laughs at Adam, who’s trying to defend himself for chasing after a woman he thought was Gisele while skiing, and Jaeger’s mouth morphs into a full grin. His gaze strays to mine, as though he senses me looking.

  His smile reduces to something sultry and curious, and my stomach tightens. For a second, I lose the ability to breathe.

  Holy shit. That smile is lethal.

  Jaeger hasn’t looked at me dead-on since we arrived, and the impact sends my brain tumbling. His eyes are dark green along the edges of the iris, like the center of a pine needle, growing lighter toward the middle. Abruptly, he looks down at his hands, before observing his friends again.

  I slump in my seat. This might be Tyler’s high school friend, but he’s changed.

  I’m reeling. I mean, really freaking out right now. I’ve never felt instant sizzle before, and with Jaeger—my brother’s friend? That’s a no-go zone. I have a boyfriend!

  I lift my hand and signal to the waitress. She sees me and walks over. “Shot of Cuervo, please.”

  Startled faces pe
er at me from around the table. What? “Anyone else want one?”

  Jaeger and Adam order a shot.

  Breanna, Adam’s girlfriend, purses her lips and glares. “Excuse me!” She flips her hand out at Adam. “Girlfriend sitting here. Why are you talking about pursuing another woman?”

  Oh right, the Gisele conversation. God, that seems trivial compared to the mini-crisis going on in my head.

  “Bree, that was way before we met.” Adam squeezes Breanna’s shoulder.

  “Right, ’cause if you saw Gisele now, you would totally ignore her and have zero interest out of your love and respect for me. Is that what you meant to say?”

  “Uhhh, yeah. Absolutely.” Adam smiles mischievously at his friends while he pats Breanna on the back.

  “I saw that!” Breanna snaps.

  Gen absently passes me the green olives from her martini while watching the Breanna and Adam soap opera.

  Grinning, I pop one into my mouth and glance up.

  I choke before the olive passes my tonsils.

  Jaeger is staring at my throat.

  His gaze lifts to my eyes and heat rushes my face.

  I’d like to say the look he’s giving me is one of observation, as though he’s watching an exotic bird eat an unusual food. Gen’s informed me on more than one occasion that my love of green olives is unnatural. But Jaeger looks sexy, and hot, and his gaze is sending fiery signals to my girl parts.

  “I remember you now,” I say without breaking eye contact. “You had a girlfriend.”

  The heat in his eyes disappears. He looks away. “That was a long time ago.”

  An enigmatic response from an enigmatic person. This is the Jaeger I remember. Quiet. Reserved.

  Jaeger glances at Gen and his expression softens.

  There’s no reason to strike him from Gen’s list. Not when I remember him as a good guy.

  I flag the waitress again and request another shot, chasing it with a second martini to dull the hormones riding me. It’s been almost a week since I saw Eric… and a lot longer since we had sex. My libido’s been neglected. Any hot guy could incite the reaction Jaeger does.

  I listen to the others talk and lose track of the conversation. After a while, I grab Gen’s chair. Or maybe her arm. Am I leaning on her?

  She glances at me wearily. “Mason, we’re gonna get going. Thanks for inviting us tonight.”

  Crap, those shots that dulled my senses also made me forget to keep tabs on the chemistry between Gen and Mason. Did they hit it off?

  Mason smiles politely. “Great to meet you, Cali. I look forward to seeing you around at Blue.”

  What a sweet guy. He’s a keeper, and I’m going to tell Gen so, just as soon as my tongue thins out. “Definitely!” I practically yell. It’s the only word I can get past my numb lips.

  Gen’s eyes widen. “I think we’ll take an Uber.”

  I wave goodbye to the rest of them, and they return the gesture, except for Jaeger, who observes my every uncoordinated move, his mouth tense, brows drawn.

  I’m drunk, but not so drunk I don’t know what a loud, clumsy drunkass I am. Good thing I’m already in a relationship, or there’d be embarrassment on the menu for tomorrow.

  We leave the casino and I tell the Uber guy to take us to the Last Stop. They’re open long after the casinos slow, with two a.m. breakfasts that have just the right amount of grease.

  Gen slides into a booth, and I bump my hip on the table as I slither in across from her.

  “You’re hammered, Cali.”

  “Yup.” I hiccup, the foul flavor of vomitus and alcohol singeing my tongue. “Need water.”

  Four glasses of water and a late-night breakfast large enough to feed a two-hundred-pound man later, my mouth regains its dexterity. “Mason’s hot,” I say casually.

  Here’s where I unearth the truth about Gen’s feelings for Mason. “I’m definitely going to keep my eye out for him at the casino. I need something pretty to look at while I slave away shuffling cards,” I say, and shift my gaze to catch her response.

  If one wishes to elicit a reaction from the elusive species known as reservus quietgirlius, one must poke.

  Gen snorts indelicately. “Oh, it’s rough for you, isn’t it? Try carrying around a fifteen-pound tray all night—in heels.”

  My brows pinch and I quickly smooth them out. I expected annoyance at my checking out Mason, and she gives me nil. Not cool. Point one to Gen, but I have more in my arsenal.

  “Did you see his shoulders and arms? Those snowboarders are in good shape.”

  “Okay—girl with a boyfriend.”

  Ouch. That one hit the soft spot. I already feel guilty about my hormonal response to Jaeger. “I’m not actually interested. I just appreciate a nice-looking guy when I see one. I think Mason likes you.”

  Gen swishes the ice in her clear plastic cup. “He doesn’t like me. He’s a friend.”

  Okay, now I’m annoyed. She’s not ’fessing up to anything. “He likes you, Gen, and he’s cute and sweet. What’s wrong with him?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with him. I’m just wondering if maybe it’s too soon for me to date other men.” She thunks her cup on the table, avoiding my eyes. “I haven’t gotten over the last one that hurt me.”

  A perfectly valid point. So why do I feel like the A-hole isn’t the real reason she’s suddenly shying away from dating?

  “I thought you were open to going out? Dating isn’t a relationship, it’s just… hanging. No strings, just fun.”

  Gen straightens. “I think maybe friendships are more my speed right now.” She shoves a forkful of hash browns into her mouth, shredded bits dangling from one corner of her lips as she chews.

  She doesn’t fool me by shoveling in food so she can’t talk. I recognize avoidance tactics when I see them.

  “Enough about my dating woes,” she finally says. “Let’s get in a game of table shuffleboard before we leave.” She eyes the back wall where the game is located—changing the subject, dammit!

  “Fine, but be prepared for an ass-kicking. You know how good I am.”

  Gen chokes on her last bite. “That’s absolutely not how I remember your skills at shuffleboard, or ping-pong, or any other game or sport requiring hand-eye coordination. Why do you think I want to play you? I need an ego boost after being called Snow all night by the cougars.”

  The nickname Snow White is a part of Gen’s hazing by the veteran waitresses. “Cougars—are they hooking up with younger guys?”

  “One of them stared at Mason the entire time he and I shared our dinner break. Mason’s gotta be at least ten years younger than most of them, but they don’t seem deterred.”

  Gen and Mason had dinner together? Nice. Maybe she’ll change her mind about this friends-only business.

  “If I were their age and single, I’d be a cougar. So yes, I believe it.”

  I flex my fingers like I’m doing digit stretches. “I wouldn’t be so cocky about table shuffleboard if I were you. My dexterity and speed have improved dramatically after long hours of dealing cards.”

  Gen rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

  I shouldn’t have goaded her. Gen gave me a Shuffleboard Smackdown of five-zip in under an hour.

  By the time we return home, I’m not sure who’s more nervous about her future dating adventures—her, or me as her wingwoman, thrust in front of tempting, attractive men.

  Or just one attractive man.

  Chapter Three

  I am officially the card-dealing samurai. I’ve gotten so good these last two weeks that I can multitask while I work and scope out the action. And it’s like watching Casino Real World.

  Right now, the sweet brunette swing-shift waitress is flirting with the tall, dark-haired cashier behind the cage, while two other waitresses—who I’m pretty sure have a thing for each other—chat by a row of slots.

  Over in Gen’s lounge, two youngish executives with loosened ties troll for women. Their game is that they are there for an e
nd-of-the-day drink, but I can tell they’re looking for a hookup.

  One of them has been tracking Gen’s every move, and it’s making me nervous. I don’t get a good vibe from him.

  I deal my next hand and glance into the East Bar, where Gen’s safely ensconced, chatting up Mason.

  My heart warms at the sight. I’m like a proud mama duck watching her duckling venture into the world.

  Gen and Mason have been casually flirting for a couple of weeks. Well, okay, I can’t tell if the banter is friendly or flirty, but at this point I don’t care. Gen’s laughing and smiling more, and that’s all that matters. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in months.

  Jaeger swaggers up to Mason’s bar, and my heart pumps an extra beat.

  Am I going to have this reaction every time he’s around?

  He’s in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, and my mouth goes dry just looking at him—

  “Hit.”

  Crap, I missed a customer signal. Too much casino-watching.

  The woman glares and I quickly deal a card, shoving my head back in the game. But when I can no longer stand the suspense, I glance at Mason’s bar.

  Jaeger is smiling at Gen, his forearm on the counter, body angled toward her. I can’t look away. Corded muscles in his arm flex under his weight, his hand casually curled.

  Damn those hot hands. Visions of them grasping my flesh and skimming over my body hijack my mind.

  Eric hasn’t called, and Jaeger’s effect on me is inconvenient. I was hoping Eric would visit and remind me why we’re together, because I’m not feeling the love.

  I shift my feet, gaze shooting now and then to the trio at the bar. Gen laughs at something Jaeger says and jealousy spears my chest.

  This is ridiculous. I want Gen to have male attention. Why does this particular guy’s attention have me so upset?

  He was my brother’s friend, and for all I know, he’s still in touch with Tyler. I should call Tyler and get the scoop.

  Two of my customers rise, gathering their chips. They’ve lost the last three rounds.

  I can predict with ninety-nine percent accuracy when a customer will leave. Three rounds of losses have a fifty percent probability, while five or six rounds guarantee they’ll be moving along. Tonight I’m hot. No one stays at my table for more than a few hands.