Page 31 of Gamble
“That’s because I don’t feel upset,” Reagan said.
“I’m so glad. You deserve so much better than him.”
While Reagan didn’t disagree with her best friend, she also knew finding better was hard.
“Are you coming home today then?” Meena asked the million-dollar question.
The level of genuine excitement she felt thinking about the day she had planned in Sin City was telling.
“Maybe later. I’m not sure,” she hedged.
“Does your staying have anything to do with Mr. Keaton?” Meena asked. When Reagan failed to reply, Meena started pelting her with the kind of questions a good friend should considering where she was. “How did you meet him? Doesn’t he seem a bit old for you? Would I approve of him?”
Reagan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Whoa! One question at a time.
“I met him yesterday when I was checking in. He helped convince the front desk guy to let me have Tristan’s room even though Tristan wasn’t here yet. I’ve bumped into him several times since then, and when he found out I’d finally thrown Tristan to the curb, he was nice enough to invite me to spend the day having fun with him in Vegas today.”
“Fun… what kind of fun? Is he a pervert?”
“Stop! He has been nothing but a gentleman so far.” The bonus round of orgasms aside. “He’s here to celebrate his fiftieth birthday, and his friends ditched him, kinda like Tristan ditched me. I’m sure he’s just being nice, but honestly, I’ve enjoyedtalking with him so far, and we’re going to take a ride on the enormous Ferris wheel and then go to a show together. It sounds like fun.”
“I agree, as long as he isn’t trying to just take advantage of you.”
“It’s not like that. Or maybe it is like that, but at least I’m going into this with no expectations. And look at it this way, spending the day having fun here with Elijah is better than my coming home and laying in my pajamas all weekend eating ice cream out of the carton.”
“True facts,” Meena laughed. “I just don’t want you to be hurt again, is all.”
Elijah’s odd comment about there being a good and bad kind of hurt resurfaced, giving her a moment of pause.
“Don’t worry,” she answered. “In a way, it’s kinda freeing. Because of our age difference, I’m just going into this looking for a fun day or two here in Vegas. He’s helping me forget about how disastrous things with Tristan turned out, and I’m helping him celebrate a big birthday milestone. Then at the end of the weekend, we can each go on our own way with fond memories of a fun reset weekend for each of us.”
“So… what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” Meena asked.
“Something like that,” Reagan agreed, hoping she did feel reset by the time she made it back to Los Angeles.
“Okay, but I want you to be careful. You don’t know this guy. Check in with texts so I don’t panic, thinking you’ve been murdered by a serial killer.”
Reagan laughed. She may not know Elijah well, but she instinctively knew he was a good man. Something she’d never felt about the previous men in her life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELIJAH
Elijah was just hanging up the phone when Reagan emerged from the bathroom. Despite talking with the hotel’s concierge for the fifteen minutes she’d been behind closed doors, he’d still heard her talking on the phone. He may not have been able to make out what she had been saying, but he was worried whoever she’d been talking to might have talked her out of the fun day he had planned.
“You look amazing,” he said, his breath hitching as their eyes met from across the room.
Christ, she is beautiful.
“Thanks. I decided to throw a bit of makeup on so I didn’t look like death warmed over,” Reagan said flippantly.
Closing the distance between them, Elijah grabbed her biceps. When he saw a flash of concern in her eyes, he made sure not to squeeze too hard, but there was no way he would let her comment stand.
“Are you listening to me?” Elijah said, using his best Dom voice.
Reagan’s eyes widened before answering with a quiet, “Yes.”
“Good, because I only want to say this once. I don’t know who the fuck has messed with your head in the past, but youneed to evict them from your thoughts right now. You could have a cold… or the flu… hell, the Bubonic plague… and it would be impossible for you to look like death warmed over. Wear make-up… don’t wear make-up… wear a fucking potato sack for all I care. I’m honored to be seen with you today.
