Chapter 21
Nora
How much are you up?” Jordan asks, concern creeping in. There are two more horse races left, and his strategic way of selecting winners by reviewing stats and odds isn’t working.
“I’m up 5-3. Maybe you should try my method.” I bite my bottom lip to hold back a grin. His incredulous glare is so stinking adorable.
“I refuse to pick based on the horse’s name.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Which one are you going with this time?” he asks, studying the information brochure for tonight’s races.
The waiter drops off two more beers. “Thank you,” I say before answering. “I like Harry Trotter.”
“Seriously? His odds are twelve and one.”
“I like an underdog.” I snatch the pamphlet from his grasp and check the next race. “Let me guess. You’re taking Gallant Fox, three and one odds.”
Ignoring me, he scribbles our choices onto a napkin and holds it out for me. Since the betting booth is on the other side of the buffet, I’m tasked with submitting our bets on each race while he gets to relax and sip his beer.
“I think I can remember your boring horse’s name. Five or ten dollars?”
“Five.”
“Ah. Not so confident this time. Don’t worry. Your plan is to strip me bare at the tables, remember?” I slink away, leaving him with that image to keep his blood and regret simmering.
By the time I return, his bottle is empty, and he’s claimed mine. I motion to the one in his hand.
“What’s this?” My other hand finds my hip in disapproval.
“Here you go, miss,” the waiter says, handing me a beer.
“I know how much you loathe warm beer, so I asked the waiter to bring you another one when you returned.”
“How kind of you. Was that before or after you stole my first one?”
“It was more of a simultaneous thing.”
“Right.”
The horses take off out of the gate, and he turns to watch through the wall of windows overlooking the track. The two candles in the center of the table light his handsome profile, and I can’t look away. He’s watching the track, eyes alive with excitement, and I’m taking in every detail of the stubble on his chin, the slight dimple in his cheek, and the long eyelashes framing his navy irises.
The horses cross the finish line, Gallant Fox three lengths before Harry Trotter, sealing his chance for a tie this round. He spins in his seat, a victory celebration poised on his tongue until his gaze lands on me. Elation melts into desire as our eyes linger. Without speaking a word, we both say the same thing. Both craving to touch, taste, and explore. Both deciding to ignore it.
“One more,” he whispers, his voice strained. Breaking the hold he has over me.
“I need a restroom. Be right back.” Weaving through the thinning crowd, I find the restroom at the entrance beyond the hostess stand.
Perched at the sink, I flip on the cold water and pat some on my neck and chest.
“Something got you all hot and bothered, dearie?” A woman—maybe in her eighties—says as she leans her cane on the counter to wash her hands.
I chuckle. “You could say that.”
“He must be handsome. Or is it she? I’m not judging the ways of the youngins these days.”
“You were right the first time.”
She nods, turning off the water and shaking her hands. Since I’m standing between her and the paper towels, I snatch a couple and hand one over.
“Thank you.” While she dries her hands, she analyzes me. “What has you in here pantin’ instead of out there enjoying him?”
“You’re a curious lady, you know that?”
“Heard that once or a hundred times in my life. When you get to be my age, there’s not a lot to do. I like people. They’re my entertainment. So, entertain me.”
With a laugh, I regale her with my predicament, leaving no detail hidden. She listens to every word, soaking it in like a soap opera marathon, until I end the tale with tonight’s outing.
“That’s it?” she says finally, reaching for her cane.
“What do you mean?”
“You have a gorgeous man begging to love you, one you’ve admitted to loving in return, and you two are playing games? Pish Posh,” she scoffs. “True love isn’t a game, dearie. It’s sacred. Every moment you get with the one you love should be savored.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts. I want you to march out there right now, look him in the eye, and plant a hot one on his lips. Sounds like you both need the wake-up call.”
Plant a kiss on Jordan after all the friends talk? I can’t. It’s too soon, and things are going so well. What if he pushes me away? What if a kiss makes things awkward for the rest of the night? “We’re having fun, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
With a tsk, she shuffles past me and holds open the door. “Now,” she demands, ignoring my hesitation. “Stop wasting time.”
“Alright. I’m going. Thank you,” I say with more force than necessary, but the old woman has me on edge. She’s like a wise grandmother—warm and loving, tough and unwavering. One you don’t dare defy. She could make the most stubborn of souls crumble with a finger wave or stern glare. I would have loved to have a grandmother like her. Maybe I did. I just never had an opportunity to find out.
“Show him your heart,” she calls as I head back toward the restaurant. “And good luck.”
I watch her rock back and forth between her good leg and the one requiring a cane and wish I’d gotten her name.
“You missed the last race,” Jordan says as I approach the table. “And your beer’s warm again.”
“Don’t care.” Bending down, I take his face in my hands and plant a kiss on his lips before I could talk myself out of it. He surprises me by welcoming it instantly, parting our lips for more and squeezing the back of my thigh with a firm grip. I sigh into his mouth at his surrender before stepping back to lean against the adjacent rail. My legs are too weak to stand without support.
“What was that for?” he says breathlessly as he looks me over with wide, clouded eyes. God, I love it when he soaks me in like I’m the only woman in the world.
“I was following orders.”
“I like this person. Who is it?”
Ignoring the question I can’t answer and sound sane, I change the subject. “Did you win?”
He shakes his head, attempting to follow along with the incomprehensible conversation and new complication in our friends-only arrangement. “No. Tried your tactic. Didn’t work.”
“Darn. Ready to head to the casino?”
“Hell, yeah.”
I wave for the waiter, and after paying the bill, we follow the signs to the attached casino. The combined noise of bells, music, conversation, and excitement is almost as loud as the gaudy carpet and flashing lights coming from every direction. I don’t know which to shield first—my eyes or my ears. But I do neither since my hands are busy clutching the wheelchair handles and fighting the urge to run my hands down Jordan’s chest. He’s making me want things I can’t have in his sexy, white button-down shirt and black shorts.
We opted for slightly more than casual, and he’s pulling it off with minimum effort. I, in contrast, packed nothing to fit that description. After rummaging through my suitcase and trying on outfits for thirty minutes, I snagged a black, off the shoulder, cropped sweater from Josie’s closet to wear with my ripped skinny jeans and ankle boots. It’s giving off casual, sexy chic vibes and boosting my confidence whenever desirous male eyes glance my way. One set of navy eyes, in particular.
“Tables first?” I have to yell so Jordan can hear me.
“Sure.”
We make our way to the blackjack tables and claim two stools. A waitress in a short miniskirt and low-cut top stops by to flirt with Jordan. He relishes in the attention before calmly ordering two drinks. That’s right, my eyes say when she looks over his shoulder at me before stomping off.
“Did you order something she’ll have to hand-squeeze?” I joke when he leans on the edge of the slick wooden table. “She looks perturbed.”
“Nope. Just a beer and a glass of wine for you.”
“Well, she looked as though she wanted you all to herself.”
“Not tonight,” he says with a wink. “I have a bet to win.”
“I could have worn that dress tonight. All you had to do was ask.”
He stares at me, agitated that he hadn’t thought of that. “If I win, I plan to collect in New York and let the entire city know you’re—”
Stopping himself, he frowns.
Mine. Say it, I urge silently, but he collects the chips and first draw from the dealer.
“Damn,” he says after checking the cards.
With a smirk, I peek at mine and toss in a hefty bet.
Jordan folds immediately.
“Chicken,” I accuse.
“Not chicken. Smart. I’m in this for the long haul.”
Again, he stares me down, his eyes laying the meaning out on the table.
“So am I.” I toss in a few more chips and flip over my cards without dropping his gaze.
“We have blackjack. The pot goes to the lady in black,” the dealer adds amidst a chorus of groans and whines.
“Better get crackin’, handsome. I’m up two.”
Jordan wins the next two hands, bringing our friendly competition back to even. Three beers and four hands later, there’s still no clear winner. Only a drunk ex-Marine and his friend. We cash in our chips and head to the slots to settle this bet once and for all.
Setting a timer, we decide the person with the most money when the bell chimes buys dinner. Somewhere along the way tonight between winning and losing and shots, I agree to go to Josie’s show—as if I could resist the smile that accompanied the invitation.
Pulling the levers and pushing blinking buttons as fast as we can, bells and random noises sound off from both machines. It’s obnoxious, but all I care about is racking up points and hearing Jordan’s contagious laugh for the rest of the evening. It doesn’t matter who wins at this point. Isn’t a romantic dinner in either New York City or on the James River a win-win? We both want to go, but this last game is for bragging rights. And I never back down.
Happy tears blur my vision. I can’t see who’s winning. If it isn’t me, it’s not like I know enough about how to play this machine to change my fate. I’m just pushing and pulling when prompted, hoping to hoist an invisible trophy when the timer goes off. I check the clock and there’s two minutes left.
Before the timer sounds, the large red light on top of his machine goes off, making me jump. He’s either broken it or won the jackpot.
“Yes!” His arms fly up in celebration before he snatches me off my stool, pulls me into his lap, and dips me back with a kiss that fills me with primal desire all the way down to my toes. All ten of them curl inside my shoes, and I pull him closer, needing to feel more of him.
When he releases me, I’m not ready and equally unprepared for the tender way he brushes the hair from my face. He’s about to kiss me again when casino staff join us to congratulate the grand winner.
Ten thousand dollars. He won ten frickin’ thousand dollars at a slot machine in Charlestown, West Virginia.
“What will you do with your winnings?” the exuberant woman at the customer service counter asks, handing him a receipt to sign.
“I think my beautiful…friend and I will live it up in New York this weekend.”
“Jordan, you should use that for your—”
“Come on. Let’s go celebrate with a drink.”
He drags me down into his lap again and rolls us to the bar. I giggle like a smitten teenager all the way there, my arms wrapped around his neck and my legs stretched out to the side. Either I’m drunk, or have untapped a side of me I never knew existed. A side that could be unabashedly happy.
Giving into the feels, I kiss his face all the way to the bar—his forehead, cheek, jawline, ear. That last one had him jumping to his feet and setting me on mine. A grimace scrunches his face.
“Is that from pain or something else?” My eyes fall to his shorts.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He hobbles closer to the bar, steps up to the stools, and offers his hand.
“Such a gentleman.”
He waits for me to sit before sliding himself onto the stool beside mine with a long sigh. While we wait for the bartender to return with our drinks, I realize it’s already after 10:00 p.m.
“Jordan.” I place a hand on his arm. “I think we need to get a hotel room.”
His eyes double in size as they travel over my body.
“No. Not for that.” My hand slinks away, and I miss the feel of his skin under my palm. “It’s getting late, and I’ve had too much to drink to drive back tonight.”
“Works for me.” He leans closer. “But we should get two beds. I can’t have you traveling over to my side when you get—”
“Not a problem.”
His shoulders dip with disappointment, but he recovers quickly and accepts our drinks from the bartender.
“What?” I ask, taking the glass of wine he slides down the sleek bar surface to me, his gaze lingering with a look I don’t understand.
“Nothing. Except, I don’t believe you. I seem to remember you not being able to keep your lips to yourself a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well, a kiss is a lot different from what you were insinuating.” And a lot less satisfying. Something flutters in my stomach, and I snuff it out with a sip of wine.
He looks over his shoulder and wiggles his brow. “Care to wager?”
“You’re incorrigible.” And too damn sexy for his own good. “What are we betting on now?”
“That you can’t go the rest of the night without kissing me.” He turns and leans an elbow on the bar. “And before you take the bet, you should know…” His voice lowers to a sultry growl as he waves me closer. I lean in without realizing it and let his sexy pine scent intoxicate me further. “I plan to do everything I can to make you lose.”
I breathe him in a moment longer before sitting back to uncross and cross my legs, pausing in the middle with my knees wide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to push us into being more than friends.”
A dumb look on his face tells me he hadn’t thought through his challenge. That means, I’m winning…for now. Sulking, he reaches for his beer and gulps half of it.
Tonight will be a test of willpowers, and with alcohol involved, there’s a high probability both of us will lose. Or win, depending on the perspective.