Chapter 3
~Daley~
With each word, Deacon makes it clearer that he’s interested in me, interested in that purely primal way that men and women are sometimes drawn together.
The way his eyes trail over my skin let me know he’s imagining what it feels like.
His gaze lingers on my chest as he imagines what it looks like without the clingy black top I’m wearing.
It could be creepy if the exact same thoughts weren’t running through my head.
He’s so young, his face free of the small lines I see staring back at me in the mirror every day, but in his eyes, there’s an edge that only comes from experience. He might not have lived as long as I have but he’s been through some things; I would put money on that fact.
Maybe being in Las Vegas is turning me into a betting woman, because with each moment I spend in his presence, the odds are looking better that this might actually lead to something before the night is through.
That thought sends a shiver of electricity racing down my spine as my body begins to thrum in all the right places.
I’m turned on in a way I haven’t been in years and even though I know it’s crazy, it feels so good that I make no attempt to stop it.
“No one’s waiting at home for you either?” I ask him bluntly. Since he inquired about my relationship status, it’s only fair that I return the favour.
A glimmer of pain flashes through his grey eyes, brief but unmistakable. “No. No one here and no one at home either.”
That answer gives me several pieces of information: not only is he unattached, he’s visiting here, the same as I am. That means he’s not looking for anything serious or long-term. There’s only one way this can go, and the steady pulsing in my body grows even stronger at the confirmation.
That strong hand gripping his beer bottle suggests I wouldn’t regret it.
The way he answered the question also tells me he’s been hurt in love, and another time, I might ask about it. I’d try to ease the hurt he obviously still carries and make him feel better through supportive words, drawing on my nurturing, motherly instincts.
That’s not what I want tonight, though, and it’s not what he wants either. We both know another way I can make him feel better, and with each second that passes, it starts to seem inevitable that I will.
“Are you staying at this hotel?” I ask next.
With the question of ‘if’ I’ll spend the night with him seeming more settled all the time, my mind moves on to logistics.
Running into my son while leaving a stranger’s hotel room, or him seeing the same man leaving my room, appeals to me only slightly more than a lobotomy.
Thankfully, he shakes his head. “No, I’m at the Venetian.”
That’s the hotel where the draft is being held tomorrow, my brain registers, but more importantly, it’s several miles away. A much better option than going to my room here.
“I’ve never been there but I hear it’s beautiful.”
The corner of his mouth quirks, understanding the subtext of my statement perfectly. “It is. I’d be happy to show you around. Is now good?”
Confident and open, his question sends another shiver of anticipation through my body. Now is perfect, I want to reply, but there’s one small problem. “I’m still waiting for my son.” At the reminder, I pull out my phone to check for messages and find that one came in a few minutes ago.
On our way back. Are you still in the bar?
“He should be here any minute,” I tell Deacon while tapping out a quick reply. “I’ll go meet him in the lobby.”
“No, don’t get up,” he insists. “I need to use the restroom, and I’ll wait in the lobby afterwards.”
Once again, we understand each other perfectly: I don’t want my son to see him and he’s fine with that. I give him a grateful nod before sending my response.
In the lounge, by the back wall.
Deacon leaves, and less than two minutes later, River and his two best friends, Jonny and Brayden, walk in.
“You didn’t have to wait up for us,” River scolds gently as he leans down to kiss my temple.
Some boys his age might be embarrassed to show affection towards their mothers, but River has never let that stop him.
In fact, Jonny and Brayden follow his lead, grabbing chairs and sitting down on either side of me before wrapping me up in a big bear hug from both sides.
“Stop it,” I laugh, pushing off the young men I’ve known since they were boys. “You’re going to make me think you’re drunk.”
“No drinking. No gambling. We didn’t do anything,” River promises.
“Except pick up numbers for a dozen different girls,” Jonny teases him. “You should have seen him, D. Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“I can imagine.”
At 18, River stands six feet, four inches tall, with a muscular frame that he’s carefully developed to help his hockey career.
I know I’m biased, but I also happen to think he’s the most handsome young man in just about any room he finds himself in.
Girls must fall over themselves around him, but he knows to be careful with other people’s hearts.
It’s a lesson I hope he remembers when his life takes off in a whole new direction tomorrow.
For now, though, my son’s attention focuses on the empty beer bottle on the table, and his lips pull into a frown. “Is someone else sitting here?”
Not wanting to invite more questions, I lie. “That was here when I sat down. I’m just going to finish this drink, but you boys head on up to bed. You don’t want to be too tired for tomorrow.”
“We’ll make sure he gets his rest, D,” Brayden says, using the nickname my son’s friends have always called me.
“Even if we have to tie him down,” Jonny adds, and River rolls his eyes.
“I’d like to see you try.”
Since he has several inches and probably fifty pounds in weight on both of them, he’s got a point, but they all take the teasing in stride, heading off towards the elevators in good spirits, waving at me like idiots until they’re out of my sight.
I wait a few more minutes, just to be sure they’re definitely done for the night, before I drain the rest of my drink and head to the lobby, hoping I’ll find Deacon there.