Not an ounce of gusto.
“That was pretty lame.”
“I don’t want to draw attention. You know, men in Vegas hear girls’ trip followed by a woohoo and their ears perk up, their noses morph into the talents of a hound dog, and they sniff out where bad decisions are a possibility so they can take advantage.”
“Is that so?” I touch my face, feeling around. “I’m not morphing, am I?”
“I don’t think it works on men from England.”
“Ahh, lucky me.”
The bartender comes over to us and asks, “Can I get you anything?”
I thumb toward Cora. “She’s on a girls’ trip.”
The bartender smirks. “With a man?”
“My friends are over there.” She points to a table where I spot Keiko yawning and slowly patting her stomach. I make a mental note to say hi to her. I like Keiko. She’s an odd one, fascinating, really, but always honest. She’s a fresh breath of air. “But spotted Mr. Lonely over here and thought I would chat him up.”
“Lucky guy.” The bartender presses his hands to the bar top and dresses up his smile just for Cora. Don’t blame him, she’s incredibly hot.
Especially in that dress.
I think the dress is why I’m allowing myself to talk to her, because normally, I ignore her. I ignore her blatant flirting, the obvious bumping into me, and the distinct charm she tosses my way whenever she’s “visiting” her brother and friends at the high school.
Why, you ask?
Because she’s Turner’s sister, and nothing good could come of it.
Nothing. And I already dodged one bullet by ending things with Iris. I’m not about to attempt any type of relationship now or in the near future. Especially someone related to a work associate.
But thanks to a few pints and an emerald-green dress, I’m loosening up for the first time around her.
“Could I get a mojito please?” Cora asks.
“Coming up, darling,” the bartender says, and he begins to move around the bar, filling up a tumbler.
Turning her attention back to me, Cora drags her finger over my forearm—an unmistakably flirtatious move—and asks, “Any plans tonight?”
I keep still, not letting her touch affect me. “None.”
“Hmm, that seems sad. You’re in Vegas, after all.”
“Which means you should never have a plan and just see where the night takes you.”
The bartender sets down her mojito, and she thanks him before picking up the glass and bringing the drink to her painted lips. Her cheeks hollow out as she sucks, while her eyes never disconnect from mine.
“I never thought about it that way,” she says. “I guess if you’re ever going to not have plans, Vegas is the place to do it.”
I twist my pint on the bar top and ask, “So, what were your plans for tonight?”
“You say that in past tense. Are you hinting at something?” She raises a brow.
I pick up a potato crisp doused in cheese and salsa. “Well, you’re here with me rather than your friends, so that leads me to believe you’re willing to ditch them.”
She studies me, her eyes moving back and forth between mine. “You’re sure of yourself.”
“I’m not blind, Cora,” I say while wiping my napkin over my mouth. “I know the way you look at me, you’re flirting. If I asked you to spend the night exploring Vegas with me, you would.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asks.
“Depends. What were your plans with the girls?”
“Truth?”
I bring my pint to my lips and nod. “Truth.”
Shifting in her seat, she crosses one of her gorgeous legs over the other and rests her arm on the bar top. “Okay, truth—we were going to head down to Thunder From Down Under, where we were going to try to get me in front of one of the guys so I could have a wild night of freedom.”
“Freedom?” I ask with a raised brow. “Or pleasure?”
“Both.” She smiles.
“So, you’re looking for a one-night stand.”
“I’m looking for a good time.”
“Any reason why?”
She wets her lips. “Do I need a reason? Can’t women just be as free and sexual as men?”
I nod. “You’re right, they can. No reason needed, just seemed as if you were on a mission. I didn’t know if there was reasoning behind the mission.”
She looks away, picks up her mojito, and brings the cold liquid to her lips.