Page 25 of Parker

“Um…I—Sure,” I murmur.

She hops out of my car, slams the door shut and gets into the back seat of the Uber. A moment later, the car’s red taillights disappear, headed back to Vegas. I lean back in my seat, resting my head and sighing loudly.

But in a weird sort of way, I also feel good. I feel like the hope that scared me so much at the beginning of our drive isn’t so deadly now.I might even survive that hope, I think,if Parker keeps smiling more and hating me less.

It makes me want to do something for her. Something nice. Something to keep these warm feelings thawed out before they ice up all over again.

Hmmm. I have an idea!

There’s a posh boutique at our hotel. I glanced through the picture windows of the store when I exited the food hall with Skylar earlier today. Now I beeline back to it. I pull my car up to the front of the Aria, throwing my keys to the parking attendant like I’ve seen high rollers do in the movies, and stride into the lobby. I head downstairs, walking purposefully into the store, where I am suddenly surrounded by women’s clothes, shoes, and jewelry.

Talk about feeling out of place. Dressed in my T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, I am a big ’ol fish, and there is absolutely no water in sight.

“Can I help you?”

The saleswoman who approaches me is young and pretty.I’ve got this.I turn on the charm.

“I just bet you can,” I say, grinning at her. “I’m looking for a turtle.”

“I’m sorry?”

“A turtle.” I look at the sexy white bikini to my left—marked $1300,what the fuck?!—

and feel my plan falling apart.Nothing in this dang place is gonna have a turtle on it.I shrug sheepishly. “You got anything with a turtle on it?”

“A turtle,” she repeats, grinning at me like I’m adorable. After a beat, she turns to her associate. “Valencia, do we have anything with a…a turtle on it?”

“A turtle? Like, the animal?” asks her friend.Is there another kind?I’m about to ask, but she points to a jewelry counter. “I think…yes. In the Pandora collection.”

“Ah! Yes! The pink tortoise charm.” The younger salesclerk turns back to me and smiles. “Come with me.”

I follow her across the boutique where lots of sparkling items sit on white fabric under a glass counter. She reaches intothe sparkles and extracts a tiny charm: a silver turtle with a light pink crystal shell. Holding it in the palm of her hand she shows it to me.

“Here you go.”

It’s oddly perfect, this little turtle charm. Feminine and small, it will serve as a reminder of our drive around the loop, and the apology I meant from the tips of my toes and the depths of my soul.

“I’ll take it,” I tell her.

“Shall I wrap it?”

“Yes, please,” I say. “Is it possible to have it sent to someone in the hotel?”

“But of course!” She smiles at me, her bright red lips as shiny as patent leather and about as appealing. “There are note cards over there. Write whatever you like and put her name on the flip side.”

As she wraps the small token, I grab a card and pen and puzzle over what to write.

I think and think, but in the end, the words come easily.

When I said I was sorry…I meant it.

When you asked if we should stay strangers tomorrow and I said, Sure…I didn’t.

--Q

I write her name on the card, pay for the turtle, and head back to my room. There’s a spring in my step and hope in my heart as I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Chapter 4

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