Page 7 of The No Try Zone
“Trouble seems to find me when I drink, so I shouldn’t do it. Except I do love a glass of wine, so…” She shrugs. “Thus, the one-drink rule was born.”
“Fair enough,” I concede. “And, yeah, I’m usually a two-drink guy.”
“We’re a couple of cheap dates,” she teases.
“At a hotel bar on the Strip in Vegas,” I finish.
“Yeah. But that just means we’re multi-faceted, right?”
I grin. “Right.”
“I’m Sam,” she says, leaning into my space as she speaks.
“Matthew.” My middle name comes out on instinct, because I never use my first name when I’m traveling. Another rule.
“Nice to meet you, Matthew.”
My name sounds equal parts right and wrong coming out of her mouth, and I want to take it back. Tell her my real name. Ask her to say it. Listen to how it would sound in her accent.
Instead, I jerk my chin toward her book. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“It’s a prop,” she says.
Another laugh bursts out of me. When was the last time I had this much fun? “You’re lying.”
She smiles again, that tiny gap showing and taking another swing at my dwindling willpower. “I’m not. I bought it at the airport before I boarded the plane. Seemed like something I should have.”
I finally read the title, and yet another amused chuckle leaves my lips. “The Miracle of Flight: 100 Deadly Crashes? You really thought it was a good idea to buy a book on plane crashes before you get on a flight?”
“Not my finest moment,” she admits. “I don’t usually have time to read, and this was in the clearance bin.”
“Can’t imagine why,” I deadpan.
“Do you read?”
“Not much. Usually too busy with my…” I hesitate.Don’t get involved.“Work stuff,” I finish.
The bartender reappears. “Another round?” he asks.
We look at each other. She bites her lower lip, those ice-blue eyes of hers seeming to issue a dare.
Fuck it.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my lucky quarter. “We’re in Vegas.”
“That we are.” Her eyes dart to the coin as I let her see both sides. When they meet mine again, it feels like I’m standing in the sunshine.
Sunshine.The word rolls around in my mind as I speak. “Heads, we have another drink. Tails, we call it a night.”
“Mischievous,” she declares, pointing an accusing finger at me.
I lift my shoulders. “Maybe a little.”
She hesitates. “I shouldn’t.”
“I get it,” I tell her, then start to put the quarter away.
“Let’s do it.”
