Page 4 of Vegas Baby

“Okay. In the room, you said I was unexpected.” She picked up her water glass and drank deep, the lines of her neck exposed.

Redness from his beard marred her otherwise flawless complexion and he wished things hadn’t turned south. If not for the sleeping pill, he might still be in bed with her and not in a dumpy restaurant drinking weak coffee.

Raina lowered the glass and palmed the sweating sides, a noticeable quiver to her hands. “What did you mean?”

How to lay this out without it coming back to bite him in the ass? They were work colleagues, end of story. If he were smart, he’d leave it there. Except sitting there with his overly large jacket over her shoulders, she appeared small and vulnerable. Damn, she’d found his Achilles heel. He hated to see anyone in pain but it wasn’t his place to comfort her. “Well, you made some pretty ballsy bets.”

“I gambled? First I slept with you, and now this? Wow, this keeps getting better and better.”

He gritted his teeth at the insulting accusation, and tried to quench the spark of irritation. The state of affairs was absurd enough without losing his temper.

She reached out and placed a hand on the back of his, smoky blue eyes raised in apology. “I’m sorry, that was bitchy. Please tell me what happened, and start from the beginning.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this? The phrase ignorance is bliss is used for a reason.”

A single tear fell from the corner of her eye, challenging his resolve. She wiped at it with her finger, glancing down at the tablecloth. “Ideally, no, I don’t want to put myself through this but I…I lost a good chunk of memory and I have a feeling it will drive me insane.”

The need to escape hit him and he wanted to find some excuse to leave. He could take a lot of this in stride but tears were his ultimate downfall. Clearing his throat, he arranged his jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order. The sooner he told her everything, the faster he could get back to his purpose for being in Vegas, to sign a player to his team of choice. “Veer texted me from the bar and when I arrived, Anaya was explaining to you how stressful the wedding with her large family was, all arguing non-stop. You went off on how wasteful weddings can be, and since they were in Vegas, they should get married and get it over with.”

Raina exchanged the water glass for her coffee, adding cream and sugar to the cup. “They are a waste of money.”

“I agree,” he said, pleased she’d stopped crying.

She flashed a wry grin. “It’s a miracle, we actually agreed on something.”

Her teasing brought a smile to his own mouth. “After you dragged me on the dance floor, Veer agreed with Anaya to get married by a Michael Jackson impersonator.”

“An M.J. impersonator, really? That’s hilarious. I’ve always said it would be a blast to get married by an impersonator. What decade of Michael?” She sipped at her coffee, once more a composed, self-assured, woman.

“1980s M.J. was your idea and it was also your idea for us to stand up with them as their witnesses.”

“I wish I could remember that. It sounds like fun.” She bit her lip, a touch of remorse in her voice.

It had been fun because of Raina. She had a dry and somewhat goofy sense of humor he’d never noticed before. He couldn’t recall when he laughed as much as he’d done the night before, or hadn’t given a shit about what other people thought of him. It was enjoyable in the dead of night but in the light of day, grim reality intruded. “We went with them to the marriage license place. After Veer and Anaya bought their license, the clerk mistook us for a couple and asked us if we wanted one.”

“Of course, we said no.”

“Not exactly.” It had been a challenge wrangling three drunk people, especially when he was equally as inebriated. Not his finest moment. “Keep in mind, we were all wasted. You—”

“One egg over easy and a slice of toast,” the food runner started to set the plate in front of Raina.

“That’s actually mine.” Except Howler didn’t want it. The sulfur smell of the eggs turned his stomach, punishment for a night of heavy drinking. He had hard and fast rules to keep himself disciplined. He rarely drank, except when he had to fly, never gambled when he knew he’d lose, and never had sex with a colleague. Apparently, he was three for three in breaking his own rules. And the woman sitting in front of him, looking completely mesmerized by the food had instigated his downfall.

“Sorry,” the food runner said. “The Lumberjack special for the lady with a side of pancakes. Be careful, the plate is hot.”

Raina picked up her fork and knife, glancing about the table, the worried frown between her eyebrows disappearing. “Can I get some syrup?”

Howler handed her the container, amazed by the sheer size of the breakfast plate before her. Pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, and cottage potatoes. For a tiny woman, she had a healthy appetite.

“Is there anything I can get you? More coffee?” the food runner asked.

“I’m going to need more butter and more syrup, thank you.” Cutting her sausage patty into pieces, she shoved it into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chewed.

She was definitely full of surprises. Careful, controlled, contained, were traits he’d always associated with Raina, but she’d shed those stereotypes at the bar and again this morning. Last night in bed, she’d attacked him with the same gusto as she did her breakfast. Wild and demanding, sex with Raina was explosive. Reality or wishful thinking on his part? He’d been pretty wasted. For all intents, they’d had a one-night stand. One being the key word. For many years, civility was the single thing they had in common.

The waiter returned with the butter and she picked up the small container, smearing it on the first of three pancakes. “Please, continue telling me what happened. I believe you left off with the license.”

“You bet Veer we’d get the license if he signs with the Pioneers. Granted, we could have convinced him to sign with the Pioneers without a marriage license. That’s beside the point.”

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