4. Are You Hitting On Me
ARE YOU HITTING ON ME
“ T he bartender from two weeks ago, right?”
He’d recognize that smile anywhere.
The peppy bounce on the woman who’d served him a beer, then tensed when a customer wanted a fruity specialty drink that she didn’t know how to make.
Her coworker had saved her and sent her down to talk to two other men.
Those men knew who he was and he was positive they shared that information with the petite brunette in front of him.
Her head turned faster in his direction than a bullet he’d shot his receiver between the numbers with.
“That is me,” she said, smiling. She had a big grin, the happiness reaching her eyes.
“I’m Warren,” he said, putting his hand out.
“I know that now,” she said. “I didn’t that night. I hope that doesn’t offend you. And I’m Emma.”
He’d been losing steadily at blackjack at the Bond Casino and was looking around trying to figure out if he had it in him for something else or would call it a night.
He’d booked a room in the casino for a few days.
The Retreat gave him the rest he needed, the casino the action.
This time of year, he struggled to stay home by himself.
Most of his teammates his age were married or had significant others.
The younger ones wanted to go out and party and fill their system full of junk.
Whatever happened to a night at home watching a movie?
He could do it in his home theater, but only felt like a loser by himself.
He had any number of people who would love to be in his presence and yet none of them he’d want to call.
He was known to come here and the owner had security close by him keeping people away so that he could lose his money in peace.
“I don’t get offended easily,” he said. “I hope you’re not losing as much as me tonight.”
Then he realized what a stupid comment that was.
She was a bartender, not someone used to his wealth.
Wealth that he rarely threw away and didn’t know why he was tonight other than he was lonely.
No one would ever look at him and think he’d feel that way.
“I’ve only played one game,” she said. “And I lost.”
She was a small thing. It was dim in the casino, with no windows and the lights down, but she had a light-colored T-shirt fitted to her tiny waist and resting on the top of baggy jeans. He glanced down and saw sneakers on her feet.
She wasn’t dressed like she was trying to pick anyone up. That was a plus in his mind.
There was nothing worse than women hanging all over him for the wrong reasons.
He’d grown immune to sexy dresses, layers of makeup, and stiff hair.
Give him a fresh-faced woman with a ponytail wearing a T-shirt any day.
“Can I let you in on a secret?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Everyone loses that comes here but the owner.”
“That’s why he has so much money,” she said, laughing.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Are you here alone?”
“I am,” he said.
“I’m surprised. You were alone at The Retreat also, correct?”
“I take a lot of mini vacations by myself,” he said.
“That seems odd,” she said. “I’d think you’ve got to have more friends than the population of this island.”
“Those aren’t friends,” he said before he could stop himself.
“What are they?” she asked.
They moved to the bar and he got a beer. It was his second one. He always limited himself to one a night when he had these weekends. If he even had that.
He wouldn’t have one tomorrow so he didn’t upset his diet too much.
He was stunned when Emma got the same beer as him.
Most women he was around didn’t drink beer. Fancy martinis, wine, shots.
Nope, not into that either.
“Acquaintances,” he said. “Distant ones. Half the time I’m not sure of their names.”
“Oh, something tells me you’re more prepared than you want me to believe.”
She was calling his bluff with her smirk. “You’re right,” he said. “Do you come here often?”
“Nope,” she said. “I rarely do much more than work. I like to keep to myself.”
“So you’re single?”
“I am,” she said. “Are you hitting on me?”
He laughed. “Just a conversation. And it’s loud in here. I’m trying to figure out if there is a place to go where I don’t have to worry about someone taking our picture together. At least no cameras are allowed in here.”
“If you want a private room, I’m sure you can ask for one.”
“Are you familiar with private rooms here?” he asked, lifting his eyebrow. “How heavy of a gambler are you?”
She laughed. “I believe there are rooms not used for only gambling.”
He lifted his hand to the security guard assigned to him. “Is there a private room where the lady and I can go and talk quietly?”
“Of course, Mr. Showers. Give me a minute to locate one for you.”
“Mr. Showers,” she said, tongue in cheek. “Fancy. At least he didn’t call you The War Show.”
Warren rolled his eyes. “I got that nickname my rookie year and it stuck.” He leaned down close to her ear. “It’s stupid, but I can’t very well say that and I hope you don’t rat me out.”
She turned a key in front of her lips. “Never. I’m good at secrets.”
There was laughter in her eyes and he wasn’t sure what that was about and hoped he wasn’t about to be played. He wasn’t even sure what it was about her that let him say what he had so far.
“Right this way, Mr. Showers.”
He put his hand out for Emma to follow and noticed the head of security catch his eye, drop down to Emma, and the two of them exchanged a glance, and then Griffin moved away.
When they were in the room, he said, “Don’t worry about anyone saying anything about you being back here with me.”
“I’m not worried,” she said. “Why do you say that?”
“Griffin Zale, the head of security. He always assigns someone to me to keep people away. I saw him look at you and didn’t want you to think you were being judged.”
She laughed loudly. “I doubt he’d do that.”
The room they were in was small. It had a couch and two chairs, a table in the back of it if they wanted to eat. “Are you hungry? We can order food.”
“I’m always hungry,” she said. “But it’s fine.”
“No,” he said. “We can order.”
“Sure,” she said, picking up the menu. “I’ll take some nachos. Nice pickable food.”
“My arteries are clogging just thinking of that,” he said, laughing. He placed the order and got an avocado dip and some raw veggies.
“You must take your diet seriously,” she said. Her eyes were looking him over. “That even on a Friday night at ten you’re not giving into late-night nachos.”
“I don’t normally eat this late,” he said. “If I do, I keep it light.”
“I’m not much of a healthy eater.”
“You look good for someone who doesn’t eat healthy.”
“Superior genetics,” she said and burst out laughing. “Sorry, it’s a family joke. I get lost in my work and forget to eat at times. When I do, I gorge. Not always great, but it does keep the calories down if I’m only eating once a day.”
“You must be really busy then,” he said. “I’d think you’d be able to take breaks.”
“I take them,” she said. “My mind is always on other things.”
She wasn’t making a lot of sense to him, but he was enjoying this conversation way too much to care.
It was nice to not have someone asking him a million questions about other players, football, or his future plans.
“Have you lived on this island long?” he asked. “I’m assuming you live here since I’ve seen you here twice, and once was working.”
“I do live here,” she said. “I’ve been on it most of my life, but also lived in Boston. I won’t ask about you. I know you’ve moved around some.”
“I’m originally from Upstate New York. I have no desire to move back there.”
“You’d be the hometown hero never left alone,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d like that. I like to keep to myself.”
“That’s me too,” he said. “But it’s hard to do.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “I appreciate you trying to keep this private. Can I ask why?”
“There is no reason to drag your name into any pictures or news. We are having a friendly conversation, a drink, and some food.”
“Yummy fattening food for me,” she said, giggling. “Boring healthy stuff for you. But I’m sure you’re a health nut. Though you’re drinking a beer.”
“I allow myself a few treats now and again.”
He held her stare, but she only grinned.
“That’s mighty nice of you to do that. We all need treats in our lives.”
“You’re a strange one,” he said.
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment even if you didn’t mean it that way.”
“It was one,” he said. “I’m not used to coming across a lot of women like you.”
“Women like me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes a tad. “You’re balancing on a fine line here. You’ll have to explain that.”
“You remind me of my sisters,” he said. “They are open and honest with me but not with any others. Maybe it’s because by being who I am I might have added some complexity to their lives.”
“That’s super sweet of you to feel that way about them. I can tell you’re sincere about it too.”
“I am,” he said. He got up when there was a knock at the door and let the server in. “You can just set it on the table.”
He took the bill and handed his card over for it to be swiped with the handheld device, then added a tip and signed his name.
“Time to eat,” she said, moving to the table and sitting. “They are pretty fast with the food.”
It made him think she came here often, but then he realized she worked at a Bond-owned business. Maybe they had employee perks within them.
They could all be connected, though he’d talked to Hunter Bond two weeks ago, who owned The Retreat.
“I have to ask. You work at The Retreat. The owner introduced himself. Hunter. Are he and Eli brothers? I’ve met Eli several times.”
“I’m positive the owner of every establishment you’ve ever been in comes to meet you,” she said, digging into her nachos. “They are cousins. Different branches if you’re familiar with the history of the island.”
“Not really,” he said. “I’m positive the Bond family has their hands in a lot of pies.”
She snorted. “More than you can imagine.”