15. Fifteen
FIFTEEN
C andy’s presence in the lounge was a welcome distraction. She made Kyla at least pretend to be a decent person—she wasn’t the best actress, but she put in the effort—and I was more focused on Candy than anything else for the next few days.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. My mind kept wandering to Ronan and that kiss despite my best efforts. What had he been thinking? I wanted to blame it on him, but I was nothing if not brutally honest, especially with myself. In truth, I’d engaged in the kiss. Yes, I’d been a willing participant.
I blamed the beer. No good decision had ever been made after four beers.
Still, this was Vegas. I drank enough that four beers over the course of two and a half hours shouldn’t have been a big deal.
It wasn’t that I drank every night or anything.
Back when Olivia wasn’t pregnant, we tried to meet for cocktails once a week so we could keep up on each other’s lives. Still, I wasn’t a lightweight.
When I wasn’t busy, my mind always went back to that kiss.
That stupid, ridiculous, really hot kiss.
I absolutely could not start something up with Ronan.
I didn’t even like him. Sure, he was hot in an objective sort of way.
It wasn’t as if he were Glenn Powell or something, though. He was just a guy.
A guy who you’ve had a crush on for a really long time.
Even though I’d denied it, the truth was I had harbored a crush on Ronan in high school. It had been one of those all-consuming crushes for a long stretch. Eventually, I’d gotten over it, realizing that it was a waste of time.
I was determined not to become my mother.
She spent all of her time living life on the terms of whoever she was dating at any given moment.
My mother was a master at becoming whoever they wanted.
If they wanted somebody classy, she could play that part.
If they wanted somebody kinky, she could play that part too.
She was a chameleon, which was why I was determined to be myself.
Weirdly, that night at the bar, Ronan had seemed to like the real me.
He was one of the few people I could say that about.
Olivia was the other. I’d purposely made myself abrasive because that made it easier when people hated me.
That meant there was nothing wrong with me per se.
They just didn’t like the person I held myself out to be.
That had nothing to do with the real me.
I’d been my true self with Ronan, though.
Sure, he gave it back to me as hard as I dished it out.
Still, he didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t likable.
Sharon always said you had to be likable to get through life.
I was determined to prove her wrong. I was pleasant for work.
I did what had to be done for tips, but I was not going to bend myself to fit somebody else’s idea of what I should be.
And yet Ronan seemed fine with all of it. He’d been fine enough to kiss me. Okay, I kissed him. Wait, we kissed each other. Yes, that was what had happened.
Why had it happened, though? Was I sending out signals? I didn’t think so. He wasn’t the type to manufacture signals, though. Maybe he’d been drunk. That must be it. He’d been drunk, and sometimes when you’re drunk, bad ideas seemed like the best ideas ever.
“How’s it going?”
I was brutally ripped out of my feedback loop—this was how it had been for three days—when Candy appeared next to me. She wore a bright smile, but something in her eyes gave me pause.
“I’m fine,” I answered automatically.
“Yeah?” Candy cocked her head. “It looked to me as if you were daydreaming.”
“Nope.” I shook my head firmly. Daydreaming on the job was frowned upon. “I was racking my brain to see if we had a specific group coming in today.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“Nothing. It’s just a normal day.” I really hoped that was true.
“Good. That will allow us a chance to talk.”
My smile remained in place, but my insides clutched.
I’d learned the hard way that therapists—psychologists, psychiatrists; I’d seen them all—were trained to look beyond the facade.
It was possible, since she worked for a casino, that she wasn’t as weathered as the individuals I’d come across over the course of my childhood.
The hefty paycheck she was likely receiving could also mean that she was a better therapist than all of them.
Crap.
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds great.” I walked away from her, hoping she wouldn’t follow, and headed toward the bar.
She, of course, trailed behind me. “So, you haven’t been with Stone very long,” she said. “Where did you work before you landed here?”
Where hadn’t I worked? I had a certain reputation in Vegas. I was a good worker but temperamental. That was the word that most often played prominently when I was dismissed. Temperamental.
I shrugged. “I’ve worked everywhere, really. I like to hop around.” Did that sound nonchalant? I was going for nonchalant.
“That’s interesting.” Candy rested her elbows on the bar as I grabbed a tray and began organizing it. “Is it that you don’t want to stick at one place for too long?”
“I don’t know. It seems to work out that way.”
“Maybe it’s that you like to quit things—or force your employer to quit you—before you get too comfortable in a place. Is that possible?”
Oh, great. She was one of those therapists. “No, I just seem to hop around.” I was going for breezy, but I had no idea if I was pulling it off.
“I pulled your file with the state,” she said.
I froze. “You pulled my file.” My temper ratcheted up a notch. Who gave her the right to pull my file? “Aren’t juvenile records sealed?”
“Sometimes. Yours weren’t. My guess is it’s because your mother never filed the paperwork to seal them.”
Well, chalk another one up for Sharon. “Great.”
“It seems you had a fraught childhood.”
That was an interesting word choice. “Fraught?” I wanted to laugh. I didn’t.
“Yes, fraught.” She wasn’t smiling at me now. “It’s okay to have feelings about what happened to you when you were a child.”
“I don’t have any feelings about that,” I lied. “It has no bearing on my current life.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Okay, well, if you ever want to talk about it, you might find that I’m a good person to talk to.”
Yes, the corporate tattletale would be a great person to talk to. “Thanks.” I was firm. “I’m good.”
I LOST MYSELF IN WORK. THANKFULLY, there weren’t any difficult guests to deal with for a change. I was good with the guests, almost always, but every once in a while a pain in the ass would sweep in, thinking they owned the place. That wasn’t on the agenda today.
Ronan had three people at a blackjack table.
Candy was over watching him at present, which made me feel guilty as well as giddy.
Better him than me, right? I hummed to myself as I dropped off drinks in front of the televisions where three men were betting on the horses—getting louder and louder with each drink.
Then I let my curiosity get the better of me.
I should have stayed away from Ronan. We’d only exchanged a few awkward head bobs and work talk since the infamous kiss. I couldn’t seem to keep away from him, however. He was the spider, and I was the fly.
And what a corny thing that was to think. When had I turned into that person? Good grief.
“Does anybody over here need a drink?” I asked in a chipper voice. I was just doing my job, I told myself. It was my duty to make sure Ronan’s players weren’t parched.
“I’ll have a Hendricks and tonic,” one of the men said without looking up. He was intent on his cards. I was no expert, but he looked pretty happy with the face card he held.
“Certainly.” I glanced at the other men. “Anybody else?”
They placed their orders. Nothing fancy. Then, as I was about to leave, I did the one thing I wasn’t expecting. I said something to Ronan. “Iced tea or anything for you?” I asked him.
He looked momentarily taken aback—something that wasn’t lost on Candy—and then nodded. “An iced tea will be great.”
“No problem.” I kept my expression purposely neutral. I didn’t need Candy questioning my relationship with Ronan. When it came time to deliver the drinks, I handled the guests first and then placed Ronan’s on the corner of the table, a napkin underneath.
Ronan reached for the glass immediately, as if he were dehydrated after three days in the desert, and our fingers brushed. “Sorry,” he blurted immediately, his cheeks turning pink.
“It’s fine,” I replied, internally chastising myself when Candy swung her gaze to me. “No harm, no foul, right?”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he sipped the iced tea and went back to staring at the table. He was like a cat that thought it would become invisible if it didn’t move. What an idiot. Did he think that made him look chill?
“Let me know if you need anything,” I said to the table before swinging back to the bar. This day had been going okay. Not great but okay. Now, it felt as if I was on a train that was quickly running out of track. Oh, and the train was overflowing with zombies, to boot.
I managed to calm myself after a few minutes. It was fine. Candy likely hadn’t even noticed. Then the emotional engineer appeared at my side.
“Well, that was weird,” she said with a laugh.
My back was to her, so she couldn’t see me close my eyes. Why couldn’t she leave me alone? Despite the case of the cringes rocketing through me, I smiled as I glanced over my shoulder. “What was weird?”
She could’ve been nice and let me off the hook. Apparently, that wasn’t in her wheelhouse, however. “You and Ronan.”
I opted to play dumb. “What about us?”
“You accidentally brushed hands and acted like it was a big deal.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I pursed my lips. “I don’t remember that happening.”
She shot me a sharp look. “You don’t?”
“No. Was I doing something else at the time?” I’d committed to this plan, so there was no stopping me now.