Page 32 of All Bets Are Off

“No, I do not.” She shook her head. “I think this is going to be great.”

I could only hope she was right.

AN HOUR LATER, TALLULAH WAS THREEdrinks in, and I was nursing a second for looks. I had no intention of drinking it. The bar had turned rowdy thanks to the NBA playoffs, and we were surrounded by yelling men, most of whom had careened past tipsy and were well into drunk territory.

“High-five,” Tallulah said to a twenty-something dude with a backward ball cap. He was attractive, young, and effervescent. In other words, he was exactly her type.

The guy—his name was Kevin—gave her the obligatory high five. “Right on.” The way he was looking at her—as if he were just coming off Lent and she was the juiciest porterhouse on the menu—told me that my friend was going to get lucky tonight.

Well, good for her. She deserved it. Hopefully, if she got some, then she would stop obsessing about the possibility of me seeing Zach naked. I needed her to give up that crusade. Plus, Kevin seemed like a decent guy.

His friend Deacon was another story, though. Since Kevin had glommed on to Tallulah, Deacon had decided that meant I was his best option for the evening. He’d planted himself on the stool on my left and had proceeded to say stupid sports stuff to me for the past hour.

“So, he’s what’s called a shooting guard,” Deacon offered. He was one drink away from slurring his words. “Look there.” Deacon’s hand landed on my bare back as he pointed toward the television screen. “The other guy is the point guard, and he’s going to pass to the shooting guard.”

I gave Deacon an “are you kidding me” look. Was he seriously mansplaining basketball to me as if I was some airhead who didn’t understand anything other than nail polish colors and thongs? “Yes, and that’s the power forward,” I said, pointing. “That’s the small forward. Technically, Ramirez is playing center right now, but he’s another power forward. They’re behind so they’re going for scoring, not defense.”

Deacon blinked. Then he blinked again. “You know basketball.”

“Yes.” I shifted on my stool to get away from his hand but that just caused him to move in closer.

“That’s kind of hot,” he said, licking his lips.

Before I could tell him what to do with his observation, I felt another individual move in at my back. Whoever it was, he was tall, because Deacon suddenly shrank away from me.

“Am I emitting some sort of musk to draw in drunk guys?” I demanded as I turned.

It wasn’t some random drunk sports enthusiast, though. No, it was Zach … and he didn’t look happy.

“Oh, there’s my husband,” I crooned, opting to take advantage of the situation. “I was wondering where you got off too.”

“Husband?” Deacon looked as if he wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

I held up my left hand, which he’d had plenty of opportunities to ogle since he’d sat next to me. “Yup. I’m married. This is my Snookums.”

Zach gave me a dirty look. “Okay, I retract what I said earlier about the nicknames.”

There was no hiding my smirk. There was also no reason to comment. He was clearly taking control of this situation, and as much as I wasn’t going to kowtow to him, I was suddenly tired and nothing sounded better than curling up on my ridiculous pillow top mattress and calling it a day.

“Sorry, Snookums.” I also couldn’t help poking him one more time.

“How many of these have you had?” He gestured toward my untouched drink.

“One,” I replied.

Zach tilted his head before shooting the bartender a questioning look. Well, that wasn’t very nice. Was he calling me a liar?

“One,” the bartender confirmed. “Her friend has had a few more.” He gestured toward Tallulah.

“I’m not worried about her friend,” Zach replied. “Although…” He moved away from me and positioned himself directly in front of Kevin. “Hey, this is Tallulah.”

“I know,” Kevin said happily. “She’s awesome.”

“She’s … something,” Zach agreed. “She’s also under the protection of this casino. She’s not going back to your room with you.” He turned back to the bartender. “Get her a room. Don’t let her leave alone. Have the front desk put it on my account.”

The bartender nodded. If he found the situation odd, he didn’t say anything.

“As for you, my lovely wife.” His eyes moved back to me. “I think it’s bedtime.”

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