Page 9 of Harbored by the SEAL
She yanked down the arm again with satisfying force.
A cheer went up from deeper in the casino but she didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the machine in front of her.
Stupid fucking Cowboy.
How could he do this to her? That man was practically famous for fucking anything with legs, but he wasn’t willing to fuck her. Like she was defective or something.
The machine beeped and whistled, lights flashing as it spit out coins. She pulled on the lever hard, sending the wheels spinning once more. The room was full of noise, the steady cacophony soothing her mind like a washing machine soothes a baby.
She had a choice now. She could be hurt and offended and appalled at what she had done, or she could be angry.
Charlotte chose angry.
So what if that bastard wouldn’t sleep with her? Just because she’d come all this way and gotten on this stupid goddamn cruise ship to be with him didn’t mean her whole world was falling apart. Screw him.
There were lots of fish in the sea, and she was on a freaking boat, for Christ’s sake.
This worthless feeling reminded her of Rick.
Fuck Rick.
Would that man have a hold on her forever? Couldn’t she rebuild and start fresh, without the shadow of that giant dick covering every inch of her world?
He wasn’t even here, hadn’t been here in a long damn time. But having Cowboy turn her down today was a slap upside the face, and every slap upside the face reminded her of her ex.
Pull. Bells. Whistles. The sound of change falling. It was therapeutic. Every dollar she spent was one more Rick would never see. She pulled again.
A man’s arm came out of nowhere, resting on the side of her machine as a toxic dose of spicy cologne invaded her breathing space. She turned her head to the offender who flashed an overly white smile.
“Looks like your lucky day, sweetheart. And you’re winning at the slots, too.” He chuckled at his joke. “I’m Trent.” He held out his hand.
“I’m not in the mood for company, Trent. I’m sorry.”
“You just met me. How can you know if you’re in the mood for me or not? What do you say you and me—”
She put one hand on her hip and turned to face him fully. “You’re not listening. Go away.”
His stare hardened. “Bitch.”
She got in his face. “This is a couple’s cruise and you’re hitting on me. Fuck you, asshole.” He jerked back, then walked away.
Charlotte turned back to the slot machine, but the therapeutic spell had been broken. That loser ruined her mojo, and nothing about pulling this lever was going to make her feel better tonight. She collected her coins in a small bucket and made her way up a few steps to the casino bar.
“What can I get for you?” asked the bartender.
He was black and handsome, with a thick mustache. She looked at his name tag.
Isaac.
She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”
He held out a hand and shook hers. “I’m Malik. I get better tips with this name tag on.”
“I like it. I’ll take a scotch on the rocks, please.”
She felt like she’d been through a war. She could still see Cowboy’s bare chest, feel his arms around her holding her tightly. She’d been so close to getting everything she wanted, yet it slipped right out of her hands.
Malik brought her drink. “A lot of people ask me for advice on their love lives, too.”
