Chapter 7
Charlotte pulled hard on the arm of the slot machine, watching the old-fashioned tumblers spin and sparkle. They stopped moving, but everything was out of focus. She didn’t know if she’d won or lost, and she didn’t give a shit either way.
She yanked down the arm again with satisfying force.
A cheer went up from deeper in the casino but she didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the machine in front of her.
Stupid fucking Cowboy.
How could he do this to her? That man was practically famous for fucking anything with legs, but he wasn’t willing to fuck her. Like she was defective or something.
The machine beeped and whistled, lights flashing as it spit out coins. She pulled on the lever hard, sending the wheels spinning once more. The room was full of noise, the steady cacophony soothing her mind like a washing machine soothes a baby.
She had a choice now. She could be hurt and offended and appalled at what she had done, or she could be angry.
Charlotte chose angry.
So what if that bastard wouldn’t sleep with her? Just because she’d come all this way and gotten on this stupid goddamn cruise ship to be with him didn’t mean her whole world was falling apart. Screw him.
There were lots of fish in the sea, and she was on a freaking boat, for Christ’s sake.
This worthless feeling reminded her of Rick.
Fuck Rick.
Would that man have a hold on her forever? Couldn’t she rebuild and start fresh, without the shadow of that giant dick covering every inch of her world?
He wasn’t even here, hadn’t been here in a long damn time. But having Cowboy turn her down today was a slap upside the face, and every slap upside the face reminded her of her ex.
Pull. Bells. Whistles. The sound of change falling. It was therapeutic. Every dollar she spent was one more Rick would never see. She pulled again.
A man’s arm came out of nowhere, resting on the side of her machine as a toxic dose of spicy cologne invaded her breathing space. She turned her head to the offender who flashed an overly white smile.
“Looks like your lucky day, sweetheart. And you’re winning at the slots, too.” He chuckled at his joke. “I’m Trent.” He held out his hand.
“I’m not in the mood for company, Trent. I’m sorry.”
“You just met me. How can you know if you’re in the mood for me or not? What do you say you and me—”
She put one hand on her hip and turned to face him fully. “You’re not listening. Go away.”
His stare hardened. “Bitch.”
She got in his face. “This is a couple’s cruise and you’re hitting on me. Fuck you, asshole.” He jerked back, then walked away.
Charlotte turned back to the slot machine, but the therapeutic spell had been broken. That loser ruined her mojo, and nothing about pulling this lever was going to make her feel better tonight. She collected her coins in a small bucket and made her way up a few steps to the casino bar.
“What can I get for you?” asked the bartender.
He was black and handsome, with a thick mustache. She looked at his name tag.
Isaac.
She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”
He held out a hand and shook hers. “I’m Malik. I get better tips with this name tag on.”
“I like it. I’ll take a scotch on the rocks, please.”
She felt like she’d been through a war. She could still see Cowboy’s bare chest, feel his arms around her holding her tightly. She’d been so close to getting everything she wanted, yet it slipped right out of her hands.
Malik brought her drink. “A lot of people ask me for advice on their love lives, too.”
“Do I look like I need it?”
“You’re pretty, but you don’t look very happy.”
She sipped her scotch, somehow sadder to know that it showed. “Thanks for the drink.”
She turned around, taking in all the people gambling, the laughter, the noise. She didn’t want to spend this week wallowing over Leo. She wanted to enjoy the cruise.
No sooner did she think it than she saw Cowboy across the way.
Dammit.
He was with that woman again from the Academy, who was just cute enough and hanging on to his arm just tightly enough that she wondered if he was sleeping with her.
Probably.
If that wasn’t salt for her wounds, she didn’t know what was. Was this how the whole freaking week was going to go? Seeing Cowboy every time she turned around? She took another sip of her drink as their eyes met across the room.
Her stomach clenched, and just as quickly her ire went up. She was not going to sit here and feel uncomfortable. She’d march right over there and make him uncomfortable, instead.
She swore she could see the panic in his eyes as she crossed the casino floor to reach him and her mouth pulled into a self-satisfied grin. “Hello, Leo. Abby. You two here for a little gambling?”
“I’m going to play blackjack and keep an eye on our friends,” said Abby. She looked from Cowboy to Charlotte and back again, a smile firmly fixed on her face. “Why don’t I go do that right now?” She walked away.
Charlotte stepped closer to Cowboy. “What about you?”
“I’m not much of a gambler.”
“Really? That surprises me. But then again, you’re just full of surprises today.”
“You’re upset.”
She took a sip of her scotch. “No. Disillusioned maybe.”
“How so?”
She leaned in and lowered her voice. “You work so hard to sell this fun, playboy persona. I guess I just thought it was real.”
His eyes darkened and he put his hands in his pockets.
“Why me, Charlotte? Why did you come all this way just to share my bed for a few days?”
Because you’re the best man who ever looked twice at me.
She couldn’t tell him that, and her mind steadfastly refused to come up with a more appropriate answer.
“There must be a reason,” he said.
“I wanted some company.”
His stare took in her whole face, pausing on her lips before meeting her eyes again. “A gorgeous woman like you could find company closer to home.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. Did he really think she was gorgeous? His voice was gravelly — a bedroom voice — and she clenched her knees together.
She could feel the heat of him, and she dared to hope she might get her way after all. “I wanted you.”
He leaned toward her, just inches from her face. Her eyelids drooped heavily and she licked her lips. The moment stretched out between them, her heart leaping frantically as she willed him to kiss her.
He pulled back.
“I still want you,” she said. Her cheeks instantly heated. She took a sip of her drink and stared into it, swirling the ice in her glass. “But you’re going to keep right on turning me down, aren’t you?”
She felt so sorry for herself in that moment, so embarrassed to have put herself out there again only to be rejected.
“You’re not telling me the whole story,” he said.
“What do you want me to say? That I’m here because my divorce left me feeling like an old, dirty towel someone dropped on the floor and walked on? Because there it is. That’s the truth. And the truth isn’t always pretty. You strike me as the kind of guy who’s more interested in pretty.”
She searched his face for the pity she knew she would see there, but his expression was unreadable.
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said.
He was so good-looking, his presence so big and grounding and endearing and sexy, if she added sensitive and understanding to the list, she’d be on her knees begging him to reconsider.
She put her empty glass down on the tray of a passing waitress. She had to get the hell out of here before she made even more of a fool out of herself. “Enough talking. I’m going to go to the nightclub. This girl needs to dance.”