16. Sixteen
SIXTEEN
T allulah wasn’t obnoxious. That might have been my initial assumption, but I’d been wrong. She was the exact opposite of obnoxious. She was damaged, and that was different. I understood because I was damaged too.
I’d spent a month working and sparring with her. But not until we’d been forced into group therapy—something I was no longer angry about because it had shown me the truth—had I seen the real Tallulah.
Now, I didn’t know what to do with that information.
Pretending the kiss that shouldn’t have happened wasn’t a frequent visitor in my dreams was a waste of time.
My dreams took it a few steps further each and every night.
What would’ve happened if we hadn’t backed away from one another?
What if cooler heads hadn’t prevailed? What if we’d given in to our feelings that night and fallen into bed?
Would it have been the worst thing in the world?
My brain said it would have been a colossal mistake and not only because I wasn’t in dating mode.
Dating a coworker was always the worst possible path to take.
What would happen if things went sideways?
They always went sideways for me. My longest relationship had been six months, and it had only lasted that long because Shana—that was her name—had gone out of town at regular intervals for work.
Had we spent more time together, the relationship would’ve ended sooner.
I used to think that I wasn’t built for relationships, that my anxiety was too much for a love match to survive. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I had found the one person who could match my weird.
I didn’t believe Tallulah was that person.
I really didn’t. But sometimes, when I was around her, I marveled that we could be together for hours on end—sure, it was at work, but it counted—without having to keep up a steady stream of inane conversation.
Rarely—make that never—had I met someone I could be quiet with.
Tallulah spent a lot of time in her head.
I’d never noticed that until Candy went out of her way to engage with her.
I’d been watching the casino shrink a lot since she’d started making daily visits to the lounge.
At first, I’d assumed that she was trying to cause trouble for us—mostly Tallulah but both of us.
Eventually, I realized that wasn’t the case. In fact, it was the exact opposite.
Candy’s goal wasn’t to make things more difficult for Tallulah.
She wanted to help her. I’d been angry on Tallulah’s behalf when Candy admitted to pulling her juvenile records.
Who was she to do that? But Candy wasn’t approaching this assignment from a place of malice.
She wasn’t trying to get dirt on Tallulah by getting her to talk about her mother.
She was trying to get Tallulah to realize that her mother shaped every decision Tallulah made.
It wasn’t a healthy dynamic—not even close—but it was obvious.
If Tallulah would take the time to analyze things, she might be able to move past the horror that was her mother. She wouldn’t, though. She was afraid of what she might find.
I’d come to the conclusion that Tallulah’s greatest fear was that she would turn into her mother.
I didn’t know her mother—frankly, I was glad I’d never met the woman because I was convinced I would hate her—but Tallulah didn’t need to worry about that, as far as I was concerned.
The few things I knew about Sharon suggested that Tallulah could never turn into her.
That didn’t stop Tallulah from worrying.
“What’s up, buttercup?” I asked as Tallulah sidled over to the table. She’d stayed near the televisions for the bulk of the day but only because no table gamblers were currently taking up space in the lounge.
Or at least that was what I told myself.
“Hmm?” Tallulah acted as if she was surprised I was talking to her.
It had been a week since we’d engaged in the kiss to end all kisses.
In that time, we’d relaxed enough to go back to bantering.
It wasn’t the same sort of banter—instead, this banter had a flirty edge—but it was close enough that I relaxed, if only marginally.
“I asked what was up.”
“Not a lot,” she replied. “Including my attitude.”
I smirked. “You’d better be careful. You’ll be forced into more therapy if you don’t keep a smile on your face.”
“See, that’s the thing.” She angled herself to lean closer. “Why is it that Kyla is allowed to be in here frowning all the time and I have to fake being happy?”
“Because Kyla is management?”
Tallulah shrugged. “I’m starting to wonder if she’s ever been happy in her life.”
“She probably just needs a drink to decompress after work.”
“No, I think she needs a little something else to decompress.” Tallulah thrust her hips but stopped when Candy looked over at us. “Crap,” she said, frowning when Candy looked away again. “I bet that’s going in my file.”
I laughed because I couldn’t help myself, then absently glanced over at the door when the sound of voices became apparent.
I knew the arrival of a group of gamblers was imminent—I’d set the table up for them because news had come down from the promotions department that they were coming in—but I was struck dumb when I recognized one of the faces.
I never expected my father to waltz into my world. He owned his own casino. Why the hell would he come into this one? I was still trying to wrap my head around that when Opal Stone, Ruby and Zach’s sister, stopped in front of the table.
“Gentlemen, if you would like to participate in a game, you have the option right over here,” Opal called out, gesturing to my table.
“If you would like a drink, the bar is that way.” She didn’t acknowledge me.
There was no reason she would. She was older than me.
She’d been out of high school by the time I was a freshman.
She didn’t hang out with Zach and Rex, as far as I could tell, so the gossip of who I was likely hadn’t spread to her.
She had no idea that she’d brought my father to play a game at my table.
I paused, my mouth opening, and then Opal sent me an encouraging smile. “Whatever game they want, correct?”
I was thrown. What was I supposed to say here? Technically, it was against the rules to deal to a family member.
Tallulah seemed to recognize my distress because she glanced between me and my father—recognition sparking in her eyes—and then she crossed to Candy without any further prodding.
They bent their heads together, Candy’s eyes widened, and then the therapist’s head bobbed once then twice.
Candy crossed the room without hesitation and sidled up to Opal, her voice low as she relayed the problem.
Opal listened, then glanced at my father and me. She smiled, but I could tell she was thrown. I couldn’t worry about Opal’s reaction because my father had finally caught sight of me.
I exhaled heavily but met his gaze. The one thing I didn’t want to deal with was out of my hands. There was no getting out of this.
He took one step toward me but was intercepted by a smiling Tallulah.
“Mr. Hawthorne.” Her smile was as bright as the sun. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Dad looked surprised to be addressed by the staff. “Um, you too.”
Tallulah didn’t let his obvious discomfort get to her. “You probably don’t remember me. I went to high school with Ronan.”
“Oh.” Dad nodded, seemingly relieved to be able to place her. “Of course.” He was obviously searching for a name to go with her face, which was funny because if he’d ever met Tallulah, it had been brief and in passing.
“Tallulah Hayes,” she volunteered, her smile never wavering. “We only met at a few school functions.”
“Right. Your parents are?”
Tallulah swallowed hard, and my heart immediately went out to her. “Sharon Jackson.”
“Oh, right.” My father’s smile dimmed. “Of course.”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I didn’t, though. I wouldn’t let him dismiss Tallulah as if she wasn’t an actual person. “She’s best friends with Olivia Stone,” I volunteered. “You know, Zach Stone’s wife.”
“Of course.” Dad’s smile turned placating. “How could I forget? Your mother was utterly unforgettable.”
That was an insult. Sharon Jackson had been the talk of the PTA for years because she was so … bohemian.
Tallulah continued to smile, but her eyes clouded. “Yes, well, it’s good to see you again. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Maker’s Mark on the rocks,” he replied. When he turned away from her, it was with dismissiveness. “Ronan,” he said, and I braced myself for the deluge. “This is a surprise.”
Opal appeared to be panicking because she hurried over to my father. “You didn’t know he was working here?” Her voice was chipper, but it was impossible to miss the furtive look she shot me. “He’s one of our best dealers.”
“Yes, of course,” Dad drawled. “That’s why he’s in the lounge.”
“I didn’t realize he was on the schedule today,” Opal explained. “I can get another dealer here in five minutes if you want to gamble.”
Dad’s face broke into a wide smile, and I knew he was preparing to play a game. “I think that sounds grand. It will give me a chance to catch up with my son.”
“Of course.” Opal was unflappable. “I’ll get right on it.” She cast me one more look, clearly questioning my presence, and then went to the corner to make a call. She was obviously going to get another dealer. My guess was she was also placing a call to her brother.
Ah, well, I silently lamented. The best-laid plans.
My father wore a “let the games begin” grin when his gaze landed on me. “I think it’s going to be a fabulous afternoon.”
SITTING IN THE CORNER WITH MY FATHER when some of the richest men in Vegas were playing blackjack only a few feet away was strange. I was in my dealer uniform, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. Despite that, I sat up straight—Norbert Hawthorne’s son didn’t slouch—and rested my hands on my knees.