Page 54 of Gamble
Apparently, Tristan wasn’t smart enough to realize how serious Elijah’s warning was since he spouted back, “I’ll touch any part of her body I want to since I’m her boyfriend.”
“Ex… her ex-boyfriend. You lost the honor of her being yours the second you put your dick into another woman and then were stupid enough to show up a day late smelling like you’d just left a whorehouse. God, I hate little pricks like you who pretend to be a big man when you don’t know the first thing about taking care of a real woman.”
“Oh, and you think you do, old man? I bet you can’t even get it up without popping a fistful of blue pills. You’re delusional if you think a chick like Reagan is going to give you the time of day.”
She could feel every eye in the expansive Vegas restaurant pointed in their direction. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a man who looked like a manager rushing in their direction.
Trying to defuse the embarrassing situation, Reagan reached out to pull on one of Elijah’s arms. She could feel his taut muscles as he effortlessly held a man half his age up in the air.
“That shows what a piss-ant you are. First, she is not a chick… she’s a woman. And not only did I get the pleasure of Reagan’s company all day yesterday, but all night as well. And believe me, with inspiration like her, I didn’t need the help of any blue pills to keep a smile on her face.”
If she wasn’t ready to crawl under the table due to the embarrassment of the spectacle, she might have burst out laughing at the shocked disbelief on Tristan’s face.
“I don’t believe you. She’s too much of a prude to have sex with an old man she barely knows.”
Elijah finally let the younger man’s feet hit the ground but only so he could pull his right arm back and plant a fist directly into Tristan’s gut, doubling him over in a groan of pain.
Leaning over Tristan’s bent body, Elijah continued to school him. “I see you have a learning disability. Let me make this easy for you. Not only are you not to touch her, but you won’t speak to her, and you certainly won’t be calling her any names, at least not within earshot of her, me, or any of her friends or family. You’re done. History. And take those two cowardly jerks you call friends with you.”
Elijah finally released Tristan, taking a step back into Reagan’s embrace.
As embarrassing as the scene was, she recognized that not all the blush she felt on her cheeks was embarrassment. No, it was pleasure. No one had ever stood up for her the way Elijah just had, and damn did it feel good knowing he was her protector against an asshole who hadn’t been man enough to deserve her.
She almost felt sorry for Tristan standing there looking like a deer in headlights. Almost.
Then he spoke.
“Good riddance. I was ready to be done with you, anyway. You’re way too clingy and insecure to be with a man like me.”
It wasn’t Elijah who responded this time. She couldn’t have stopped the bark of laughter from erupting from her if she’d wanted to.
“You keep telling yourself that, Tristan, if it makes you feel better, but we both know you have the emotional maturity of a teenage boy. You did me a favor this weekend by showing me just how much better my life could be without you in it.”
“I really need to ask you folks to take this disagreement outside. You’re disturbing our other diners,” the frazzled manager said, wedging himself between them and her red-faced ex.
“No need,” Tristan spat. “I’m out of here. Good luck getting to the airport for our flight home on time,” he said with a sly smile, reminding her they had seats right next to each other.
Reagan made the snap decision, hoping Elijah had been serious when he’d offered to drive her back to L.A.
“You don’t need to worry about me. Elijah will be driving me home.”
Tristan flinched, unable to hide his surprise. Maybe he’d been planning on trying to woo her back on the flight home, but with relief she realized it didn’t matter. She was sure that Tristan was in her past.
If only she could see her future as clearly.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ELIJAH
The desert air shimmered with heat waves as Elijah loaded Reagan’s suitcase into the trunk of his cherry-red Mustang. The car was a beauty. A 1975 convertible that had called to him from the classic car lot with the same magnetism he usually felt for expensive bourbon or perfectly crafted leather restraints. Fifty grand for a fifty-year-old car on his fiftieth birthday had seemed a bit like kismet. Now, watching Reagan run her fingers along the pristine chrome bumper with obvious appreciation, he knew he’d made the right choice.
“She’s gorgeous,” Reagan said, genuine admiration lighting up her voice. “I can’t believe you just bought her before this trip.”
“Yeah, what can I say? I’m a walking, talking, midlife crisis cliché,” Elijah joked, unable to resist the grin that tugged at his lips. “But I’ll admit, having a beautiful woman appreciate my taste in classic muscle cars is an unexpected bonus.”
Reagan laughed, that melodic sound that had been driving him crazy all weekend. “Muscle cars, huh? Should I be worried about becoming the other woman in this relationship?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her face broke into a grin of sheer joy he was quickly becoming addicted to.
The word ‘relationship’ hung in the desert air between them, and Elijah felt his chest tighten as a wave of unexpected longing swept through his gut. Acting nonchalant, he flipped the valet a generous tip before holding open the passenger door for Reagan.
