Vadim
"Your parents seem really nice." We're out on the street, and Preston is still breathing heavily. He's the only one who didn't seem to appreciate my parting joke. His parents totally ate it up. "How did that go? Was I okay?"
He stops looking across the street at the Silver Legacy, its white dome glowing against the night sky. "You were…" He huffs out a sigh, the warmth of it catching against my neck. "Better than I could have expected. Thank you for everything." He tilts his head. "Have you got Venmo?"
"Venmo?"
"Yeah. So I can pay you."
Like I'd ever use an app with a searchable transaction history. "It's fine. You don't have to pay me."
"No, I said I would, and I will," he counters firmly. "And how much do I owe you for the drinks and the flowers? I want to pay for those, too."
I let out a low chuckle as my eyes drift to the vein cutting along his bicep, thick and prominent beneath the hem of his polo sleeve, trailing down his forearm to where it forks. When I glance back up, I find two steady hazel eyes watching me expectantly. "You're serious?"
"I am."
"I don't use Venmo."
"What do you use then?"
"Wire transfers or correspondent banking accounts. Nothing that lives on a server in California."
"Oh." He turns his gaze to the bar window, the neon sign washing color across his face in slow pulses. My eyes drop to his lips, the upper one sharply curved, the lower one full and soft looking. "Shit."
"What is it?"
He straightens. "Don't look now, but we have an audience."
I purse my lips to stop from smiling and angle my head ever so slightly to give me a view of the bar window. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a bright yellow bouquet of sunflowers.
"How do you want to handle this?"
His eyes close as he runs his tongue over his teeth. "I don't know. It'd be weird if we don't kiss, but…" His eyes flutter open, warm but tired. This charade is getting to him. "It'd be even weirder if we did."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know you."
"I disagree. You know my name. Place of birth. Where I work."
"That's not what I mean."
I grab him by the shoulders and lower myself slightly so I'm in his direct line of sight. "I've met your parents."
His lips twitch. "Stop it."
"And they loooove me."
A breath escapes through his nose. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
I raise my brows. "Are we having our first fight?"
And there it is. A warm smile breaks through. But all too quickly, it fades, replaced by something unreadable. "I have a three-date rule."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I don't have sex with a guy until at least the third date. Sometimes longer."
"Why?"
"I was—" A streak of red shoots up his neck and infuses his cheek. He scratches at his forearm, not looking at me. A few seconds pass. Then finally, he turns to face me, his eyes burning with a dark intensity. "Just because, okay?"
"Fine. No sex in front of your parents in the middle of the street. Got it." His expression softens a fraction. I move in. "But we're only talking about a kiss here."
You know what? I'm done talking.
I step in, cradle his warm face in my hands, and press my lips firmly against his. The whole thing lasts less than the conversation we were having.
I pull back, searching his eyes. "You okay?"
His first reaction is to turn back to the bar. I do the same, giving a little wave to the two beaming faces staring at us.
"Yeah. I'm okay." He sounds a little breathless. "Thank you again. For everything."
I can see his parents making their way toward the entrance, which is my cue to leave. My work here is done.
"It was nice to meet you, Preston Miller."
I tap my temple with two fingers, turn on my heel, and walk away. Preston protests that he still owes me money, but when he abruptly stops talking, I assume his parents have joined him.
He got what he wanted, and I had a bit of fun, too. No harm done. It's not like we'll ever see each other again.