Page 1 of Spring Break with a One Night Stand

Chapter One

Four months earlier…

Las Vegas, Nevada

Perched on a stool at the end of a chrome and glass bar, Odette Bell swirled her cocktail straw around her untouched raspberry lemon drop. Coming to Las Vegas alone was a bad idea. The music was too loud, the nightclub too crowded, and the men too aggressive. What was supposed to have been a fabulous Galentine’s celebration with her best friends was turning into one big regret.

When she, Willa Leigh, Ginger, and Jezzy booked the trip a year ago, they were all single. That changed when Willa Leigh reunited with her high school sweetheart and the father of her ten-year-old daughter last summer. They were married in the fall, just a few months before Ginger went head-to-head with her grumpy boss. Before the Christmas holidays were over, Ginger was head over heels.

Willa Leigh and Ginger offered to honor their commitment to the wild girls’ weekend–not very convincingly, truth be told–but Odette knew they’d always regret not spending their first Valentine’s Day with their guys so she let them off the hook. Jezzy was the very definition of unreliable so when she texted some vague excuse the day before they were supposed to fly out, Odette wasn’t surprised.

That’s how she found herself alone in a deluxe suite overlooking the neon river otherwise known as the Vegas Strip. After sleeping in and indulging in room service–bananas foster French toast, an icy pitcher of mango mimosas, and a silver carafe of to-die-for dark roast coffee—she booked a full body massage and mani/pedi at the hotel spa. She filled the hours before her appointment strolling through the shopping galleries and people watching from a sidewalk café that served salted lavender lattes and vegan pineapple cheesecake muffins.

She’d debated staying in the room to binge watch Married at First Sight but didn’t want to admit to her friends that she’d wasted the weekend getaway hiding in the hotel room because she was afraid to venture out on her own. They’d make all kinds of guilty apologies, and while Odette was a little miffed they hadn’t objected more vehemently when she offered them an out, coming to Vegas alone had been her choice. It was her first night out on the town. She’d follow the itinerary they’d created together, and if it was an epic fail, she could spend the rest of the weekend in the suite, developing a relationship with the room service delivery guy.

She’d been at Inferno for two hours, slowly sipping her way through lemon drops–first a blueberry, then a strawberry, now a raspberry–fending off drunk assholes whose eyes were plastered either to her cleavage or her plump ass that overflowed the LED barstool. It was the dress—a gold lace corset held up by two tiny straps atop a gold satin skirt that hugged her hips and thighs like a second skin. It was so not her style, but Jezzy insisted it was perfect for Sin City.

It was definitely getting Odette attention, just not the kind she appreciated.

“My husband is in the bathroom,” she said, deterring yet another hound dog who’d come sniffing around, hoping to get lucky with her.

“I thought you were here alone.” The bartender, a slender Asian woman in her early forties with hair slicked back in a dark ponytail and perfect winged eyeliner, refilled Odette’s water glass.

Glancing around to make sure none of her sleazy admirers were listening, Odette grimaced. “I am. Just tired of getting hit on by horndogs. Where’s Denzel when you’re in Las Vegas for a girls’ only weekend?”

“Did the rest of your girls already meet their Denzels?” The bartender lifted Odette’s untasted drink to swap out the damp napkin for a fresh one.

“You could say that.” Odette took a sip of ice water. “A year ago, we were all single. Now I’m the only one without a ring on my finger. Well, technically, there are two of us without rings, but Jezzy is a confirmed…what’s the female equivalent of a confirmed bachelor-slash-womanizer?”

“Someone who’s afraid of commitment.” They shared a knowing laugh.

“Yeah, that’s Jezzy.” Odette scanned the bar dispiritedly. There were plenty of attractive men…all paired off with attractive women.

“Next drink is on the house.” The bartender winked at her. “It takes a confident woman to venture out solo on Valentine’s Day. I appreciate a strong, beautiful Black woman, even if she doesn’t play for my team.”

“Thanks.” Odette smiled, completely at ease with the woman’s tactful come-on. At least the weekend wasn’t a complete waste—she’d had one decent offer.

“Let me know when you’re ready for a refill.” The bartender turned away to fill another order.

“Hey, mama. Looking good.” A blond-going-gray man twenty years her senior leaned against Odette’s shoulder, reaching behind the bar for a lime wedge. The bartender, stuck taking an order a few feet away, frowned at him.

“Not allowed,” she said over the thumping bass. “I’ll help you in a sec.”

“No worries, Chang.” He grinned, dropping the piece of fruit into his drink and purposely fumbling for another slice.

Great. Not only was he a dick, he was a mean, racist dick.

“Saw you sitting here all by your lonesome and decided that was a problem I could fix.” He tilted his hips, the ridge of his cock pressing into her thigh.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” She poked her index finger into the center of the man’s chest, hoping he’d back off without creating a scene.

“Aw, come on, baby.” He flicked his tongue suggestively. “I’ve been watching you. No boyfriend. No takers. And you looking all delish. I want a taste of your caramel–argh!”

The man gave a strangled cry and then was gone.

Odette spun on her barstool as a tall, broad-shouldered guy gripped the front of the other man’s shirt, leaning in like they were two pals exchanging a conversation. Stumbling to keep from tripping over his feet, the older man backed up until he hit the wall. Eyes wide, hair mussed, the leech nodded fast, agreeing with whatever Odette’s rescuer was saying. The younger man released his hold and smoothed the other’s shirt, patting the older man’s chest in what looked like a friendly manner but up close, was hard enough that the guy grimaced.

Arms folded over his chest, the nice guy–who could have passed as Henry Golding’s twin–watched the lech hightail it out of the nightclub before approaching Odette.

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