Chapter 23
Despite living in a town where gaming was probably the number one pastime, I never gambled.
Not such a big deal on its own. It wasn’t as if I had a ton of disposable income.
But over the last ten years, I’d also done an excellent job of avoiding all types of risk. And really, where had that gotten me?
Well, I thought, I suppose it had gotten me here, hadn’t it?
“Which machine do you want to try?” asked Xander as we wandered through the casino.
There were so many slot machines that, honestly, the thought of choosing one was a little daunting. I was about to tell him to pick when we turned the corner, and—
“That one!” I said, pointing.
Up ahead of us, there was a game called Merman’s Gold. In a large digital display above the reels, it showed a bearded, trident-wielding king of the sea guarding three treasure chests overflowing with riches.
Xander laughed. “Actually, he looks a little like…someone I know.”
“See?” I said, grinning. “It’s a sign.”
Sitting down to play, I thought about what I’d just said. I hadn’t really believed in signs or destiny or fanciful things like that since I was a teen. But hey—a few weeks ago, I hadn’t believed in mermen with magic necklaces either. Perhaps it was time to reevaluate.
As I pulled a few twenties out of my wallet and fed them into the machine, I felt like anything was possible.
“So, it looks like this is a penny slot,” I said to Xander. He stood behind me, his hands braced on the back of my chair, his head leaning down next to mine.
“Does that mean that each spin costs a penny?” he asked.
I quickly read the rules on the machine. “No,” I said. “Each spin costs seventy-five cents. That’s the minimum bet.”
“Then why do they call it a penny slot?” he asked.
“Each payline costs a minimum of a penny,” I said. “And with every spin, there are seventy-five paylines.” I looked at him. “Or seventy-five ways to win.”
He smiled. “Then how can you possibly lose?”
If he had asked me that ten minutes ago, I would have told him exactly how. The odds were always in the casino’s favor. It was how they made their money.
But now, I was all out of snark. I just looked up at Xander and smiled back. “Do you want to do the honors?” I asked, indicating the big button that said “SPIN.”
His eyes brightened with eagerness. “You’re sure?” he asked.
“Go for it.”
Leaning over my shoulder, he pressed the button to spin the reels. We watched raptly as they stopped one by one.
“Did we win?” he asked after the last reel had landed.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
He pointed at the screen. “But we have so many mermen,” he insisted.
“I know,” I said. I was beginning to remember why I didn’t like to gamble. “But they’re not in the right place.”
Just then, I felt his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Regardless,” he said, “this merman is in exactly the right place.”
I glanced up at him, and I wondered if he had any idea what his touch and his words did to me. I felt so fluttery inside that my butterflies had butterflies.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said.
We continued to play the same machine, taking turns spinning the reels.
We won a little and lost a little more, so the general trend was downward.
But at some point, winning or losing ceased to matter.
What mattered was his soft laughter in my ear.
The way his breath tickled my cheek. The light pressure of his fingers on top of mine when we decided to spin the machine together.
It looked like we’d just lost again. But then, suddenly, an animated merman swam across the top of the reels, turning two of them to all wildcards.
The machine’s lights flashed, and lively music played. More animated mermen started to dance across the screen while gold coins exploded from a cartoon treasure chest.
“We won,” I said, not quite believing it. Then, as it sank in, “We won!” I exclaimed, turning to Xander. I sprang out of my seat and threw my arms around him, and we hooted and hollered and jumped up and down. “We won!”
When the machine was finished tallying up our winnings, it turned out we’d only scored the smallest jackpot.
About eighty-five bucks. If you subtracted what we’d already lost, our take was about half that.
But as Xander lifted me up and swung me around in the middle of the casino, I couldn’t have been giddier if I’d won ten million dollars.
Xander put me down—or did he? With his strong hands still on my waist and his fresh, beachy scent lingering in my nostrils, and that familiar smile of his stirring up all kinds of feels, I would have sworn I was walking on air.
“Come on,” I said, pressing the button to cash out of the machine. “Let’s take our winnings and go celebrate.”
* * *
The Lobby Bar at the Hard Rock showcased a live band every night, usually a local Jersey band.
Tonight, it was The B Street Band, a Bruce Springsteen cover band.
That didn’t surprise me. New Jersey loved its native-born talent, and a lot of the homegrown musical acts were tributes to either Springsteen or Bon Jovi.
As The B Street Band launched into a pretty faithful rendition of “Glory Days,” Xander and I made our way into the space. The tables were all taken, but we found standing room at the bar.
“We should have some kind of fun cocktail,” I decided, grabbing the drink menu. Although, the truth was, I hardly needed the alcohol. I felt practically drunk just on Xander alone.
While I was scanning the list of signature libations, the bartender came over and put a couple of coasters down in front of us. “What can I get you folks to drink?” he asked.
After our success at the slot machine, I had the confidence to take other risks too. I turned to Xander, feeling especially flirty. “How about Sex on the Beach?” I asked, wondering how he’d reply.
A mixture of shock and intrigue flashed across his face. “I think I’d enjoy that very much,” he said. “But it might be too cold outside for you.”
I laughed. “It’s the name of a drink,” I said, playfully swatting him with the drink menu. Then, I turned back to the bartender. “Sex on the Beach, please. Times two.”
As the bartender went off to mix our cocktails, Xander slid an arm around my waist. “Are there other drinks in your world that have provocative names?” he asked. His tone may have been casual, but the way he was looking down at me was not.
“Well,” I said, leaning into his side. “There’s one called a Slippery Nipple.”
“A Slippery Nipple,” he echoed, letting his eyes glance briefly down at my chest. He tugged me closer into his orbit, and I felt the heat of his body against mine. “I would love to taste that sometime.”
In response, I felt my own nipples pebble against the lacy cup of my bra, and my knees went a little weak. But two could play this game.
“Then, there’s also a shot called a Blow Job,” I said. I dragged my index finger lightly down his chest, down to his abdomen, letting it drop off when I reached his waistband.
“I’m not sure if my translation charm got that one right,” he said gruffly as his pants began to tent.
I grinned. “Oh, I’m pretty sure it did.”
“Sex on the Beach,” said the bartender, plunking down our two drinks.
By this time, we both needed to cool down. I removed the little paper umbrella from the tall glass and sucked down about half of its contents in one gulp. Xander drank too, but his imbibing was more restrained.
“How’s your cocktail?” I asked.
“Good,” he said. “But I think the name overpromises.”
I giggled and took another big swallow from mine.
The band was just playing the opening strains of their next song. A slower song. When the vocals started, I recognized it. “Jersey Girl.”
Xander noticed me listening. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.
“Do you know how to dance?” I asked.
He glanced over at the small dance floor in front of the bandstand, where a few couples stood with their arms around each other, gently swaying to the beat. “It doesn’t look too complicated,” he said. “I think I can figure it out.”
With a nod, I drank down the rest of my cocktail, put my empty glass on the bar, and slid my hand into Xander’s. I noted again how big his hand was in comparison with mine. But not too big. Just right, really. He felt just right. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s dance.”
I let him lead me out onto the floor. Then, I reached up and looped my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers under his collar so I could feel his warm nape beneath my fingertips. He wrapped me up in an embrace. That felt just right too.
Soon enough, we fell in sync, moving to the music as one.
God, I wanted him.
When the lead singer got to the chorus, to the lyrics about being in love with a Jersey girl, Xander peered down at me and smiled. “I like this song,” he said.
Smiling back, I let my head rest against his shoulder, and he pulled me closer. Close enough for me to feel that he wanted me too.
As we continued to dance, I tried to relax against him, but my body wouldn’t cooperate.
Every inch of me was restless and needy, craving the kind of attention that a public dance floor wouldn’t permit.
When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I lifted my face so I could whisper in Xander’s ear. No risk, no reward, I told myself.
“How about sex at the Sunny Side?” I asked softly.
He pulled back a little so he could look me in the eye.
“Is that another drink?” he asked.
I met his gaze directly. “No.”
This time, his smile had a wolfish edge. “Then, yes,” he said. “Yes, please. I would love to try sex at the Sunny Side.”