Page 31 of Never Date A Player
She rests her elbow on the edge of the bar, waiting patiently for me to leave, as if there’s no doubt I’ll ditch my station to seek advice about a rogue triathlon.
So of course I go.
I glance back nervously as I exit the sports bar. Nessa flitters her fingers above her head and saunters toward the bachelor party. “Say hello to Zach for me.”
I speed-walk across the casino, determined to make this quick.
Zach looks up as I near his blackjack pit. “It’s the hot dog girl!”
So not how I want to be remembered.
The customer in front of him turns and does a full body scope. Excellent. Really don’t want to know what that guy is thinking.
“Hey,” I say quietly, attempting to dampen the attention. “Nessa says hello.”
A wide smile spreads across Zach’s face as he clears cards. Why don’t these two just date? Zach obviously has a thing for her, though I’m not sure about Nessa… Then again, who am I to judge? I have a bad history when it comes to men and relationships.
He deals a new hand. “How are things in the sports bar?”
“There’s a bachelor party perving on Nessa. Other than that, it’s slow.”
Zach’s gaze goes flat and he stretches his neck as if he’s suddenly tense.
That was an immediate reaction. If he really likes Nessa, he should do something about it before another guy swoops in. She’s too pretty and wonderful to stay single for long.
“Do you have time to chat about the Alpine Mudder?” I ask, changing the subject. “Nessa said that you participated last year.”
Zach’s cheeks tighten into a deep grin, replacing the dark look that stole his features after I mentioned Nessa and the bachelor party. It’s not natural for him to be angry, which solidifies my belief that he has a thing for Nessa. “That was a blast,” he says. “I electrocuted my ass off.”
Yeah, I read about that online. Supposedly, there’s a field of electrodes. Nothing that could seriously harm, but still, what the hell?
Stepping out of the box, I remind myself.
The pit boss lays three new decks on Zach’s table. The one customer sitting there glances warily at them and knocks back a watered-down drink before leaving.
Gamers hate it when new decks come into play, or when a dealer is replaced. They think it ruins their luck.
“I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it, because I signed up,” I say. “It takes place in a few weeks and I’m trying to figure out how to prepare.”
Zach’s gaze cuts eagerly to me. “Some of the guys and I are doing it again. We’ll help you train. To start, you could probably get information on this year’s obstacles from Sallee Construction. On the down low, of course. You know who?—”
The pit boss taps Zach’s shoulder.
Zach gives the man a knowing nod before his gaze returns to me. “Sorry, Gen. Talk later?”
“No problem.” I scribble the name of the construction company on my ordering pad. It couldn’t hurt to talk to them. I’m trying to not think about what other guys are participating with Zach this year, but I’m afraid I already know one of them.
I turn to leave—and freeze, my hand flying to my chest. Maryanne is standing two feet away and I’m in her section. She was nice last night with the Drake situation, but I don’t want to push my luck. Casino waitresses are highly territorial. I scan for a discreet escape route.
Before I make a run for it, a loud, nasally “Hi, Snoooww” blares from behind.
Amber, my least favorite waitress. She kept the high-paying table she should have handed over to me the one time we were stationed together in the lounge, and was all-around miserable to work with that night.
Amber stops a few feet away to talk to a change clerk—and to watch the fireworks she set off by blaring my nickname in front of Maryanne.
Maryanne glances between Amber and me, her expression puzzled. She has every right to chew me out for being here when I should be in the sports bar. Instead, she snaps back to hyper-multitasking mode: empty glass sweep, napkin placement, drink dispersion.
What? No set-down?
