Page 2 of The Last Dance You Saved
Once upon a time, trophies had meant something to me. Now, with the rush of the win having dissipated so quickly, I was left solely with the pleasure of knowing the twenty-five-thousand-dollar purse would be in my bank account by the end of the night.
I smiled as the cameras flashed and took a moment to answer a couple of questions sent my way. It took all of five minutes for the media to get what they wanted. As they finished up, my two fans made their way down to the last level of seats in the amphitheater-style bar. The two men waved me toward them with Sharpies and programs in hand.
When I looked up at Rafe, his lips were twisted upward again. Not quite a grin, but something close. “Your fans are waiting.”
“Who knew a has-been like me could still draw them in.”
Surprise drifted over his face before his hungry gaze traveled slowly over me once more, taking in the prim blue button-down top, dark dress pants, and black shoes I’d worn to meet competition regulations. Every place his eyes lingered, I felt as if he’d touched me, causing my body to all but vibrate with an unexpected need, and making me wonder what it would feel like if those eyes and hands were resting on my bare skin. I thought the fire might just burn me to ash.
Maybe that was exactly what I needed. To be burned down to nothing so I could reemerge like a phoenix. But then again, maybe I’d already had my chance to reemerge and missed it. Or maybe I was still ash waiting to be transformed.
Rafe’s voice lowered an octave, a sensual rhythm to it as he said, “I’d have to disagree. It would be practically impossible for someone as stunning as you to be a has-been, Ms. Hatley.”
When his stare locked with mine once again, I nearly drowned in those deep, chocolate pools. It took an enormous amount of effort to tease back. “Washed up at twenty-three.”
The hunger in his look disappeared behind that blank curtain again. “Twenty-three.” He shook his head as he said it, and I tried not to be annoyed that my age had somehow washed away his desire. His next words were cool and aloof. “Enjoy the fans. Try not to spend all your winnings at the casino’s tables.”
The words were spoken as if he was giving advice to a child. Embarrassment ran through me. It took far too long to come up with a response, so by the time I finally choked out, “Thanks for the advice, Dad,” he was already gone, heading into the depths of the darkened club.
Pop music replaced the quiet. A crew worked to disband the dartboards and tear up the carpet and mats to reveal a shiny black dance floor, likely to be crowded with swaying bodies in a few hours. The sleek, modern club was a complete contrast to my bar back home. Here, rows of chrome tables and tufted, black-leather seats wound up to where pastel-neon strips turned the alcohol bottles into hidden gems behind the bar. One entire wall of the club was glass, displaying the sun as it set over the Las Vegas Strip. Bright lights flashed from every casino lining the street as the world-renowned fountains sprayed upward.
The Marquis Club was tucked into the top, right tower of the newest Las Vegas casino. In the two years since it had opened, it had drawn the young, rich, and famous to its doors like kittens to milk. A dart tournament didn’t quite fit the vibe of the place, but the competition’s sponsor certainly had.
No arguing with the fact that Rafe was as smooth, charming, and sexy as the bar. My hormones were still skittering around inside me with unfulfilled longing from merely being in his presence. But that longing was layered with irritation, knowing he’d walked away simply because of my age.
He wasn’t the first person who couldn’t see past the number on my driver’s license. Hadn’t I encountered it repeatedly since taking over Uncle Phil’s place? The vendors who patted my arm. The fire marshal who explained things like I was two. Very few people could see past my exterior to what lay behind it. Even fewer knew that my near-death experience had left me feeling wrinkled and gray, even if the mirror didn’t show it.
I shook myself out of my reverie and made my way over to the burly brothers who’d waited patiently. They congratulated me, had me sign their stomachs in blue ink, and offered to buy me a beer. I thanked them with a large smile and said I had plans but maybe next time.
When they disappeared with hang-dog expressions, I experienced a momentary wave of homesickness. It was ridiculous to miss Tennessee when I’d only been gone three days. In a week, I’d be back. And with the money tucked into my account from this win and the little discovery I’d made while going through Uncle Phil’s things after he died, I might just be able to finagle the bank into giving me a loan for the project I’d been dreaming up.
I grabbed my bag from a nearby table before heading for the exit and the bank of elevators waiting just beyond. As the doors slid open and I stepped inside, I marveled at the antique birdcage-inspired design with the green screens behind the brass bars, displaying an exterior view of the hotel.
While The Fortress wasn’t the largest hotel and casino on The Strip, it was the trendiest and, in my opinion, the most elegant. Built to resemble the tidal island of Mont Saint-Michel in France, it had a five-star hotel tucked into the spirals and towers of the island’s abbey and a casino, stores, and restaurants hiding behind the façade of the village and seawalls.
As the door of my room slammed shut behind me, my phone buzzed, and when I swiped it open, I found a handful of messages in the group chat with my siblings. Over the last few years, the chat had grown to include not only my brothers and my sister but their spouses also. Ryder, Maddox, and Gemma had all found love at unexpected moments, and sometimes, their ludicrously happy faces made my heart ache for something I’d never anticipated wanting.
RY: Sassypants, do I have to catch a plane to Vegas in order to find out what happened? Or are you celebrating by losing yourself in a shirtless fan?
I rolled my eyes at Ryder’s dig. My fans had been fun and enthusiastic, but it wasn’t their shirtless chests that immediately flashed in my mind at his words. No, it was the annoyingly attractive Rafe Marquess. Why was it the touch of a man who’d so easily dismissed me that my body craved?
GEM: How many times do I have to say this to you? I don’t need to know about any of my siblings’ sex lives.
I smirked, tempted to torment Gemma just for the fun of it, but Maddox beat me to it.
MADS: I feel sorry for Rex, Gem-Mine. Does he even remember what sex IS after being tied to you for so long now?
GEM: Rex is completely satisfied! And damnit, you used to be on my side, Woody.
I snorted at Gemma tossing out the nickname Ryder had given our brother. Maddox hated it, even though, as both the sheriff of our small county and a life-long do-gooder, it fit.
RY: If Rex is truly satisfied, it should have removed that stick from your butt, Gem-Mine.
GEM: Keep it up, Dipshit, and I’ll make sure all the olallieberry pie is gone before you get here tomorrow morning.
The fact that my sister and her A-list-actor husband were at the ranch for a few days was just another reason I was missing being home. When I’d entered the dart competition, I hadn’t known they’d be stopping in Tennessee before heading home to LA after filming had wrapped on the movie Gemma had written.
But then again, it wouldn’t have mattered if I had known. I still would have come to Vegas. I’d needed to be here for more than the dart competition. My family just didn’t know it. I glanced over to my carry-on bag and the secrets it held. With the competition behind me, I could finally devote some more time to my research. I’d dot some more I’s and cross some more T’s, and then I’d tell them about the whole knotted mess.
