Page 5 of One Big Little Secret

I hope he takes the hint.

But he doesn’t.

He laughs, throwing his large head back until he resembles a horse. His Adam’s apple bobs and I try to catch the cutebartender’s eye in case he’s willing to rescue me, but he doesn’t even see me.

All because Kayla’s gone, probably.

“Are you here because you’re a friend of what’s her face? Kylie?” he asks. “The one from Old Mizzou? Surprised you ain’t trying your luck with her. Good times for a college girl.”

“Actually, I didn’t go to college.” And it’s my turn to laugh as my drink—a toxic cocktail that’s the same fading orange as the sunset—gets delivered. “I’m not here to gamble because I’m basically broke.”

He cocks his head and stares. My liquid courage has gotten me this far, and now it’s time to finish the job.

“My last three businesses almost bankrupted me. Ilostmoney on a job walking a hyperactive rottweiler. The kids with lemonade stands have turned a better profit this summer than I will. I even tried to sell fresh-made Italian freezes. That went up in flames when the secondhand ice cream cart I bought off the internet started on fire. Literally, I mean. That was a bad day, but it’s hardly the worst. Want to hear about them?”

“Hell no,” he mutters, but his body language has changed. His shoulders hunch and he turns away.

Thank God. All this dude wanted was a young, fun college bimbo.

They’re all the same and I’m so not his type.

“So are you married? Or just divorced?” I ask, playing it up as I nod at the white line on his finger where his wedding band usually sits, surrounding the tan.

“Enjoy the party, doll.” Grumbling, he pushes himself up and staggers away.

He throws a look back like he’s afraid I’ll chase him.

Hey, at least we’re havingfun.Isn’t that the whole point?

I take a triumphant sip from my cocktail and wait for my next victim.

Surprise,surprise.

It turns out being single at a floating casino bar attracts the grossest, most arrogant men on this side of the Mississippi. The adjustments Kayla made to my dress are only partly to blame.

Most of the guys who drop by offering free drinks don’t bother hiding the fact that they’re drooling at my cleavage.

Normally, I’d be happy I don’t have to buy drinks.

The downside is Kayla has my drinks covered.

But the real losers here are the gobs of leering old bachelors and obvious cheaters looking to poach a girl half their age.

“Yep, I just turned eighteen! One more year of high school,” I lie to the latest guy, who’s nudged his chair close enough so his knee bumps mine.

I shuffle back again and giggle.

“No foolin’? You look mature for your age.”

I almost flinch. Huge ick that my fake age just encourages the pig.

“I can look like a lot of things. But, um, aren’t you a little old? No offense.”

“Age is a hell of a number. Say, you’ve got pretty eyes.” His hand drifts to my thigh and I swipe it away roughly. “Such long legs, too. Don’t be a tease, little lady.”

I shrug.

“Thanks. I grew them myself, but they also have an age limit. Sorry.”

---