Page 10 of All Bets Are Off

Melissa and I exchange a look of irritation. Slots are not boring.

“It’s Addy’s weekend too,” I point out. “If she wants to play the slot machines, then let her play the slot machines. We’ll take good care of her, Liam. Swear on my life.” I dramatically press my hand over my heart and fix my future brother-in-law with a trustworthy smile.

“It’s okay,” Addy says, wrapping her arm around Liam’s bicep and snuggling in close to him, like he’s the oxygen she requires to breathe. “I’ll watch the guys at the roulette table for a little while, then I’ll come join you at the slots.”

I glare at my sister through narrowed eyes at her betrayal, though I shouldn’t be surprised by how easily Liam influences her decisions. Whatever Liam wants always ends up being what Addy wants, too, because she will never put her own needs and wants first.

“Whatever. C’mon, Mel,” I huff, hooking my arm through Melissa’s, because she is my one and only comrade for the evening now that Hailey is stuck with my brother, and my sister is a total pushover. “Let’s go win some money.”

Melissa and I weave around the casino, seeking out the cheapest games, and finally settle side-by-side at a pair of machines with charging buffalos. I slip a crisp fifty-dollar-bill into the machine and wince. Melissa throws two hundred bucks into hers and leans back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, mindlessly pushing the button to keep her spins rolling while I’m a lot more patient and controlled. I need my fifty bucks to last long enough to win me something big.

“She does that all the time. Have you noticed that?” Melissa asks after a few minutes.

I’m trying to ignore the frustration bubbling inside of me when yet another spin of mine wins me precisely nothing. I glance at Melissa. “Huh?”

“Addy,” she clarifies. “Liam wants a joint bach in Vegas, so suddenly Addy wants a joint bach in Vegas. Liam wants to play roulette, so of course Addy wants to play roulette, too. I’ve told her so many times . . . just tell him no. Do you like him?”

“He’s all right,” I say with a shrug, one eye locked on the giant LED screen in front of me with the stupid fucking buffalos that have yet to bring me any luck. “Bit of a pretentious jerk sometimes. I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him either.”

“I think she could do so much better,” Melissa mumbles under her breath, and I’m so taken aback by such unfiltered honesty that when a cocktail waitress struts over to offer us drinks, I contemplate telling Melissa that perhaps she’s had enough for tonight. We order two vodka sodas anyway.

I focus back on my machine, ignoring the fact I’m already twenty bucks down. “We’re here on Addy’s bachelorette. Maybe we shouldn’t spend it bad-mouthing her fiancé.”

We play for a while on these machines without much talking going on, and small wins now and again are the only thing still keeping me afloat; meanwhile Melissa is eighty bucks up. After my fifth spin in a row without hitting anything, I smack the cash-out button, grab my vodka soda and get to my feet.

“This machine doesn’t want to pay out for me, so I’m going to go find another one,” I grumble, and Melissa wishes me good luck just as she wins the mini jackpot on her game.

I’m grumpy. Severely grumpy, and that’s not exactly how I should be spending this weekend, but Hailey has yet to join us in the casino and Addy is held hostage at the roulette table, and I need to repay Michael Montgomery sooner rather than later before I get blackout drunk and forget all about his threats.

I plonk myself down into a chair in front of a machine called Huff N’ Puff, featuring neon-colored little pigs, and pop my cash-out voucher into the machine. I have twenty-three dollars to play with, and I sip the dregs of my drink loudly as I make my first spin with an aggressive punch of the button.

“You know the drinks are free, right? You don’t have to suck every last drop like that. Just order another.”

I glance to my right. A tall, broad figure coolly loads up the machine next to mine with eight one-hundred-dollar bills and sits down. He’s wearing dress pants and a crisp white shirt that has the top button undone, and he’s not even looking at me.

“Maybe I enjoy sucking every last drop,” I mutter back, slamming the empty glass down on the machine in front of me, because how about he minds his own business?

He turns to me now, an eyebrow raised and the smallest of smirks toying at his lips. “Do you?”

As the realization dawns on me, my jaw slackens in horror. “Not like that.”

Well.

For a man with a face like his, maybe it could be like that.

Because holy fucking hell.

Crafted in the image of a Greek god, the stranger next to me might just be the most gorgeous example of the male form I’ve ever had the pleasure of viewing with my own eyes. His facial structure is so hot—every feature is sharp and angular and defined. Seriously, he could slice bread with that jawline. And his eyes. They’re an unmistakable emerald, vivid and bold and kind of haunting, and they are fixed on me.

Did the hotel turn down the AC on this casino floor? Because my skin prickles with heat.

“What’s the sash for? Is it your birthday?” Zeus asks, gesturing to the “Just Drunk” sash I’m still wearing, before shifting his attention back to the screen in front of him and playing a few more fifty-buck spins. He leans back in his chair, all nonchalant and somewhat disinterested, and crosses one ankle over his knee. Mindlessly, he drums his fingers against his thigh.

“It’s my sister’s bachelorette weekend,” I respond, and I mimic his actions, also staring ahead at my own machine as we talk. I’m totally chill over here. Not freaking out at all. Such a composed queen.

“And you’re sitting in the casino alone?”

“Everyone else is around here somewhere,” I say, gesturing behind me to nothing in particular. “I’m just moving around trying to find a machine that’ll work with me.”