Page 58 of All Bets Are Off

“What?”

He nods very slowly. “Plus, you get your bet back. That’s three thousand six hundred dollars, Evelyn.”

I nearly fall to the floor. My knees buckle and I grab hold of Jameson’s forearms for support as we both stare at one another in astonishment. My brain struggles to comprehend basic addition, but I’m pretty certain I’m walking away from this casino tonight with over four grand banked, plus the few hundred I won yesterday. That is double what I need to pay back Michael Montgomery. I fucking knew Vegas was the best place to clear my debts!

“Now we are cashing out!” Jameson says with a shaky laugh, like he can’t believe it either, and he signals to the dealer that we want to wrap things up immediately. We both know that’s as far as our luck can go, surely. He gathers up the stack of casino chips—three one-thousand-dollar chips, a five-hundred-dollar chip, and the original one-hundred-dollar chip we started with. “I cannot believe the number four came in.”

I stare at the chips in Jameson’s hand with pupils shaped like love hearts. That’s my freedom right there in his hands. Tilting my head back, I look up at the ceiling lights and say, “Thank you, Jameson’s grandfather.”

“Do you think this is a sign from him that he approves?” Jameson says when I glance back down.

“Approves?”

There’s something in the way he smiles at me that I haven’t quite seen in him yet. Something that’s sincere, something real. “Approves of you,” he says.

“And why exactly would he need to approve of me?”

Jameson shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a twinkle in his green eyes as he reaches for my hand, spreads open my palm, and moves the stack of chips into my possession. “In case I decide to keep you around in my life on Monday when you board your flight to Miami and I board mine to Atlanta.”

“Woah. Wait a sec,” I tease, playfully wrinkling my nose and casting a dirty look over him. “Let’s not get carried away. How about you start with asking me for my phone number?”

Jameson pouts. “Can I get your phone number, Evie?”

“Yes.” I break character and grin smugly now, and I say my number out loud for him to add it to his phone. I’m no longer worried about this man murdering me. In fact, the only concern I have now is that he won’t call me. “Can we redeem these chips, please? I don’t like the pressure of holding on to them. What if someone—”

“Robs you?”

“Ha-ha. Where do we cash these?”

It’s only when I’m holding the grimy wad of cash in my hands that it really sinks in how incredible this is. I’m also aware that none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for Jameson selflessly giving me that leftover chip from his last trip to Vegas.

“This is yours,” I say, splitting the chunk of cash in half. I’ll admit, I can be greedy sometimes, but not with this. I only want what I need to pay off Michael Montgomery and not a cent more. “I want you to take the rest of the winnings. And this, too, of course.” I pass him the remaining one-hundred-dollar casino chip that I decided not to cash in. “Still a token to keep in your wallet as a reminder of that trip to Vegas you took with your grandfather.”

Jameson stares at me with an expression impossible to read. His lips are softly parted, his eyebrows ever so slightly drawn together. “Thank you, Evie.”

“You’re welcome!” I chirp, shaking out my shoulders with giddy excitement as I force my winnings into my purse, though I’m not sure how comfortable I feel wandering around with a thick wad of cash for the rest of the night. “Actually, I should put this in the safe up in my room, so that I don’t lose it or gamble it away. And these bikini straps are starting to chafe.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind getting out of these swim shorts,” Jameson agrees. He secures his half of the winnings in his wallet while fetching the key card for his suite. “Shall we head upstairs for a bit? It’s been a long day. I’m not as young as you, you know. I’m tired.”

“And yet you’ve spent this entire weekend trying to convince me you’re not ancient and decrepit,” I say, tutting. With a grin, I take the initiative and confidently grab his hand. It catches him off-guard, because he drops his gaze to stare at our interlocked hands in surprise, before embracing it by tightening his fingers around mine. “You know,” I say, as we make our way toward the elevators, “I’m not sure I’d have enjoyed today as much as I have if you weren’t around. So, well—” I dramatically huff as though it’s hard for me to admit. “Fine. What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you decided to stalk and harass me, because it’s been fun.”

“Stalk and harass you,” Jameson repeats, stifling a laugh. He narrows his eyes at me with a seductive, intense smolder, and says, “I’d call it chasing after what I want.”

My body tingles. A big part of me would love to discover what else Jameson has to offer, but no. I need to repress this insatiable horniness for my own good, because I cannot—cannot—sleep with the stranger I met in Las Vegas. That would end in heartbreak, when I inevitably become obsessed with him, and he never speaks to me again after we leave this place. I am not doing the whole “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!” thing.

When the elevator reaches Jameson’s floor first, I half expect him to invite me back to his room to shower together, wink-wink, but I’m relieved when he doesn’t lower himself to such lame attempts at flirting. Instead, he squeezes my hand goodbye as he lets go of me, and simply says, “I’ll catch up with you later?”

“Oh. Yeah. You have my number now, so . . . text me?” I suggest hopefully.

Jameson nods with a smile, then heads out of the elevator. The doors close as he disappears down the corridor, and then I’m left on my own as the elevator continues up to my own floor. Addy texted me not long ago to tell me Melissa has gone home due to a family emergency, so I already know I have my hotel room all to myself now—even though I have yet to actually sleep in it. That’s why I burst into the room and enjoy my shower in peace. I even wash my hair, mostly because I need to scrub all the glitter off of my scalp, and it’s when I’m staring into my suitcase wondering what clothes to put on for the rest of the night that my phone buzzes.

I grab it from the bedside table where it’s on charge and feel my heart skip a beat when a text from a number I don’t have saved appears on my home screen. I don’t dish out my phone number like party favors, so I know it can only be Jameson.

The message simply reads: What’s your room number?

Oh, God. Is he coming here? The thought of inviting Jameson into my room makes me feel nervous, even though I already spent last night in his. But I also really want to see him again, so I quickly respond to his message with my room number and a cute heart emoji.

Now I really do need to get dressed, but I’m not sure what my plans are, because clearly Hailey’s itinerary for the weekend has been thrown out the window. It’s like Addy doesn’t even care that much that her bachelorette weekend has gone entirely off track, because she’s off doing whatever, and God only knows where Hailey is. All I know is that none of us girls are together, and that’s not how this weekend was supposed to go.