Page 3 of Against The Rules

A group of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen make their way to the bar, leaving stunned people staring in their wake.

“Dibs on the one with long black hair,” Luke calls out, surprising exactly neither of us. Luke has a type, after all.

“I give him ten seconds before he’s embarrassed himself in front of her,” Ben mutters to me.

I grin into my drink, taking another long sip. There are two redheads, long-legged and tanned, a gorgeous black woman with a great body, but in the middle…

I inhale deeply, watching her.

Unable to look away.

A curvy blonde with well-muscled legs, bright blue eyes, and one of the sweetest smiles I’ve ever seen, more covered up than the rest of the women she’s with, but all the sexier for it.

I swallow hard. “Blonde’s mine.”

“You are both boringly predictable.” Ben thanks the bartender, taking a sip from his fresh beer.

I hardly hear him, the blonde tipping her head back and laughing, the sound lost in the chaotic frenzy of the casino bar, but the genuine amusement in it clear.

That’s a woman who knows how to have a good time.

I’ve set my drink down and am moving through the crowd to her before my brain’s caught up to my body.

It’s clear these women have already been to a few bars before they got to this one, their laughter a little too loud to be totally sober. Good for them.

The blonde is deep in conversation by the time I make it to them, talking earnestly with one of the redheads, who listens with a sympathetic expression.

“Hi, ladies,” I say, using my patented grin and turning the charm up as high as it will go. “Can I buy you a round?”

The women laugh, and I’m greeted with a chorus of yeses as Ben and Luke catch up to me. I motion to the bartender and the women waste no time giving their order for my tab. Except the beautiful blonde, who is completely distracted by her conversation.

“I’m Ty,” I say, feeling somewhat stupid. Usually this works, but maybe the blonde isn’t in the mood to party like I thought. “These are my friends Ben and Luke.”

“I’m a brain surgeon,” Luke says at the glossy-haired girl, who looks unimpressed.

“What are you all doing in Vegas?” I ask, trying to catch the eye of the blonde, despite one of the redheads clearly trying to get my attention.

“We’re here for a conference.”

“Oh, is that right? What do you do?” Luke asks, and I clear my throat meaningfully because I’ve learned over the past few days that Luke is seconds away from launching into explaining how he’s a brain surgeon. Again.

Ben laughs, sipping his beer.

To my surprise, though, all the women offer up different jobs.

“Savannah,” one of the sexy redheads says to the blonde, jerking her head towards me. “Remember what we talked about?”

Savannah. An unusual, pretty name. It fits her.

She looks up, blinking owlishly, like she’s surprised to be called out. “Huh?”

“I was just curious about what you all are doing in Vegas,” I say, too loudly, much more loudly than I would like, trying to be heard over the pulse of the music. I wince, hoping like hell I don’t resemble the meme of the guy screaming in the girl’s ear in the club.

“We’re here for work,” the redhead yells back.

I hold back a sigh, because yes, that’s been established. What kind of work, apparently, doesn’t matter at this point in the night,

One of the bartenders delivers drink after drink on the bartop, the women passing them out amongst themselves, swaying to the music like they can’t help but dance.

---