17. Seventeen
SEVENTEEN
W e went to Le Central Bar. It was technically in the Paris Las Vegas casino and seemed like an outdoor bar. It wasn’t. The ceiling at the casino was painted in tacky fashion to emulate the Parisian sky, but it was one of my favorite spots in Vegas, for some ungodly reason.
“Really?” Ronan cast me a dubious look. “Why here?”
I shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. “They have good drinks.”
He was quiet for a beat. “Why really?”
He read me well for a guy who had barely known me in high school and who I’d been actively trying to avoid for the better part of a week. “Because when I was little, my mother would meet her dates over there.” I gestured vaguely toward the Montecristo Cigar Bar.
He glanced in that direction, seemingly confused. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Because she seemed to think that it was classy to smoke cigars. I don’t know. That’s just where she liked to meet her dates.”
“And she took you on her dates?”
“Sometimes. Well, after the first time she got in trouble for leaving me home alone, she was diligent for a few months. She would bring me here and let me wander around the stores. I couldn’t gamble, obviously.
I probably technically shouldn’t have even been allowed in here.
Nobody ever questioned me because they assumed I belonged to a guest.”
“And you liked it in here?” Zach’s forehead creased as he took in the painted ceiling. “Why?”
“Because it was a French village,” I replied, laughing. “I figured it was the closest I would ever get to the real France. It fired up my imagination. I always drew more with my crayons when I came back from this place.”
He settled across from me. “I guess I can see that.”
“No, you can’t,” I scoffed. “This place isn’t impressive to you.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s impressive to me. It matters that you love it.”
“I really do.”
The server came around to take our drink orders. As always, I went with the Blackberry Diablo. Ronan, who normally ordered beer, perused the specialty cocktail menu.
“I’ll have the Spicy Margarita,” he said finally.
The server nodded. She seemed distracted, although not scattered enough to refrain from giving him a solid once-over.
“She’s warm for your form,” I said when she disappeared.
Ronan’s forehead creased in confusion. “What now?”
“You know. Warm for your form. It’s a saying.” Something odd occurred to me. “My mother used to throw that out there all the time. I should probably retire the saying from my vocabulary.”
“Probably,” he agreed on a delighted laugh. He shook his head then leaned back in his chair. “You tried to save me with my father today.”
It wasn’t a question. I nodded all the same. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what it’s like to have a difficult parent.”
“Our parents couldn’t be more different.”
“No, but the effect they have on us is the same.”
“There is that,” he conceded, rolling his neck. “My father doesn’t care that my aspirations for myself don’t align with the ones he has for me.”
“Your father is a righteous prick.”
He smirked. “He seemed to remember your mother.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.” My lips curved downward. “Everybody remembers my mother.” It was said with more disdain than I thought possible when it came to Sharon. I’d long since exorcised her—and my feelings for her—from my life.
“I’m sorry.”
Confused, I looked over at him. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because I am.” He lifted one shoulder. “I get it. I have complicated feelings for my father too.”
“What about your mother?”
“They’re less complicated. I love her. She did her best by me. My father has always been difficult for her to deal with too.”
“She never wanted to divorce him?”
“Oh, I’m betting she thinks about divorce once a day. She never gets that far, though. She would have to give up the money—my father brings up their ironclad prenup at least once a month—and she loves the money too much to ever say goodbye to it.”
“I can see that.” I exhaled heavily. “How are you feeling after today?” I was honestly curious.
“I’ve felt better. At least the cat is out of the bag. I’ve been terrified at the thought of him finding out.”
“Because he would be a jerk?”
“He actually took it better than I thought he would. How sad is that?”
“Pretty sad. I kind of wanted to punch him for you.”
He burst out laughing. “You do that a lot, don’t you? Punch people, I mean.”
“More than I should. It’s my only bad quality. My temper is terrible.”
“Have you considered talking to somebody about it?”
I was thrown by the question. “Like Candy?”
“I wouldn’t mention the punching to Candy.” He grinned then sobered. “The other stuff, though. She seems to understand where you’re coming from.”
“She has gone out of her way to try to make me believe that,” I agreed.
“You don’t believe that?”
I shrugged. “In general, I abhor therapists. There have been a few I’ve trusted over the years, though. Robin is the one who tried to help me the most.”
“Have you considered regular sessions with her?”
Irritation roiled in my stomach. “Why are you so interested in getting me into therapy?”
“I happen to believe that we could all use therapy. I mean, we all have issues.”
He wasn’t wrong. “And you talk to your therapist how often?” I was eager to change the subject. If I put the onus of the conversation on him, it would be better for me.
“Once a month, generally.” He didn’t balk at answering the question. He was matter of fact. “If I’m feeling the pressure, it’s twice a month.”
“And you find it helps you?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
Our server arrived with our drinks, so there was a pause in the conversation. When she was gone, he continued.
“I have coping mechanisms for my anxiety,” he explained. “The biggest is my art. Obviously, I can’t drop everything and paint something when I’m at work. I go through a few mental exercises instead. It really does help.”
“I’m not sure I need therapy,” I hedged.
He arched a challenging eyebrow.
“It’s true,” I protested.
“You’re angry with your mother.” He said it as if it was a fact. “I think you could get past it if you had a conversation with her and put it all behind you. You still need a bit of therapy.”
I glowered at him. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands in supplication. “What do you want to talk about?”
The question threw me. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” I asked without thinking.
He chuckled. “ The Shining .”
I was impressed despite myself. “Good choice.”
“I thought so. What’s your favorite scary movie?”
“The original Halloween . I’m a big fan of the music. I love The Shining too.”
We talked about movies for an hour. Then we talked about books. I figured he would be a literary fiction guy. Turned out he liked grocery store murder mysteries. I did too, so that conversation carried on for another hour.
I was about ready to call it a night—risking another kiss wasn’t in the cards this evening—when movement caught my eye near the slot machines.
At first, I thought I was seeing things.
Then I realized I was seeing something. It was something important.
“Is that…” I didn’t finish the question. I just stared.
Ronan contorted in his seat to see what had garnered my attention. He went ramrod straight. “That’s my father,” he said.
It was indeed his father.
“With Ryder Stone,” he added, confusion knitting his brow.
“Yeah.”
“What are they doing together?”
That was a very good question. “Do you want to follow them?” Ryder and Norbert were walking away from us in the direction of Horseshoe.
Ronan’s gaze snapped in my direction. “Do you think we should?”
I shrugged. “I’m kind of curious.”
“Yeah.” Ronan drained the rest of his drink and held up his finger to the server. He handed her a credit card to check out before I could tell him that drinks were on me. “I’ve got it,” he said when I opened my mouth to argue. “No lip.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re kind of bossy sometimes.”
“It’s the Hawthorne in me. I can’t escape it.”
“It’s my least favorite of your traits.” That wasn’t true.
“I don’t believe you.” Ronan signed the tablet screen presented to him by the server. “You like it, and you know it.” He hopped to his feet and held out a hand to me. Did he realize what he was doing?
The problem was I did kind of like his bossy nature. Ugh. It wasn’t only his bossiness. I liked all of him. Why, though? That was the part I couldn’t wrap my head around. I should’ve been well past the crush phase of my life.
I considered my options for exactly three seconds, then I slipped my hand into his. “I hope they’re not doing anything illegal because I don’t want to die tonight.”
He laughed as he led me toward Horseshoe. “Something tells me you’ll survive.”
Because I believed him, I let him stay in the lead. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”
“I guess we will.”
WE SPENT TWO HOURS TRAILING RYDER AND Norbert. They hopped from table to table in Horseshoe, playing blackjack and conversing the entire time. They seemed serious. Whatever they were talking about, it was a big deal. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“What are you thinking?” I asked Ronan as he walked me back to my apartment.
We’d eventually given up following them.
We ordered a few cocktails and swiped our credit cards into the slot machines to cover ourselves for the duration of our spying mission.
It had stopped being fun relatively quickly, however.
“I don’t like it,” he replied as he leaned against my door, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Are they close? Ryder and your dad, I mean.” I honestly didn’t know.
All of the casino owners had little clubs that outsiders couldn’t be part of.
I’d never heard rumors of a link between Ryder and Norbert, however, even though it seemed logical that would have come out after Ryder’s downfall became public knowledge.
“I never knew them to be close.” Ronan cocked his head, as if trying to remember. “They interacted some when they were at school events. I remember that. They seemed keen to get Zach and me to hang out a few times.”
“And how did that go?”
“I wasn’t the most social kid. I was crippled with anxiety when I was in middle school, which was when all of this started. By the time I got to high school, Zach was well entrenched in his friendship with Rex. There was no separating them.”
“And your father never tried to force you to make friends with Ruby, Opal, and Pearl?”
“Pearl and Opal were much older, so that wouldn’t even have been a consideration.” A muscle worked in Ronan’s jaw. “I don’t ever remember him trying to push me on Ruby either. His efforts to get me to hang out with Zach were never that forceful. It was almost like an afterthought.”
“So what are they doing hanging around together now? I would think your father would want to avoid Ryder as much as humanly possible.”
“I heard a rumor that Ryder might win his appeal and not go back to jail.”
“Yeah, but your father still looks like an idiot if he’s caught with Ryder freaking Stone. Just because Ryder might avoid further jail time doesn’t mean he’s going to ascend to a power position in this town again. From what I hear, people are happy that he was stripped of his title.”
“He wasn’t exactly beloved,” Ronan agreed. “Still, if he somehow climbed his way back into power, people would do business with him.”
“I guess.” I wasn’t convinced. “What if they’re up to something nefarious, though?”
His lips quirked into a grin. “Have I mentioned that I love it when you use that word?”
“What word?”
“Nefarious.”
“Oh.” My cheeks warmed under his studied gaze. “I like that word. I have no idea why.”
“I like it too.” He reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. Had he realized he was going to do it? He seemed to be on autopilot. It was strange.
I didn’t pull away from him when he pushed himself away from the wall and stopped directly in front of me. His mouth was close to mine, only two inches or so separating us. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t kiss me. He just breathed—and rather raggedly.
“This is a terrible idea,” I said in a whisper, currents of lust running through me.
He didn’t ask what I was referring to. “It is.”
“Does that mean you’re going?” I was torn. Part of me wanted him to be the adult and walk away. The other part was convinced that my heart would shred if he took a single step in the opposite direction.
“No.” He leaned even closer, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. “I can’t leave.”
“Why?” I sounded as if I were in a bad porno, I was so breathy. He didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ve been trying to force myself to say goodbye since we got to your building.” His smile was rueful. “My plan was to drop you off in the lobby. That didn’t happen.”
I barked out a laugh, sounding like a braying donkey. “My plan was to say goodbye to you on the corner. That didn’t happen either.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, breathing me in. “I think this is a terrible idea.”
I swallowed hard.
“Nothing short of an alien invasion could drag me away from this door, though,” he whispered.
My heart pounded, warmth suffusing me. “I kind of feel the same way.”
“Kind of?”
Of course he would nail me on that single point. “Fine. I feel exactly the same way.”
His fingers brushed against my cheek as he cupped the back of my head. “I’m not really in the market for a relationship, Tallulah.” He looked as if he was going through an ordeal. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not going to be hurt.” I meant it. “I’m not looking for a relationship either.”
“So we’re agreed.” He looked hopeful. “We’re going to scratch this itch and then walk away as friends.”
“We don’t even have to be friends.”
He burst out laughing, the sound unnatural. “I don’t want you to regret me.”
“I don’t want that either.” Even more than that, I didn’t want him to regret me. “I can’t walk away either, though. Let’s just have a fun night.”
His lips touched mine, and it was as if an explosion was going off between my ears.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Let’s have a fun night.”
And just like that, all conversation was over. All of our misgivings were shoved to the side. We were going to do this, regardless. Ramifications be damned, we were in this.
Hopefully, neither of us would regret anything in the morning.